We tend to assume that where we grow up or where we live is just like anywhere else. The foods are the same, the activities are the same, the thought processes are the same and so on. But that isn’t true at all. There are a lot of things that are regional. For us, since moving to Northeast Indiana a year and a half ago, we have found many things that seem strange.

          As an example, food is different. Marsha and I have, for I don’t remember how long, had grilled cheese sandwiches for supper on Sunday nights. I think it started out as a quick and easy meal for me back when I first started doing youth on Sunday nights. So that goes back a long way. When we came here we found out we weren’t eating grilled cheese. We were eating toasted cheese or cheese toasties. It is the same thing, but called something different. It is the same with what we called chili dogs. A hot dog with something on it that somewhat resembles chili. The best ones, made at home, have actual chili on them. Here, they are called Spanish dogs. Makes sense, seeing as how chili is kind of a Spanish dish. It just takes some getting used too.

But some things are either totally different or missing altogether. On Sunday I walked up on a group conversation after church. I stood and listened as various ones talked about the fair foods they really liked. Someone turned to me and said, “I bet you like elephant ears best, don’t you?” Just the question confuses me. Why does everyone assume I like elephant ears? I may look like I can suck an elephant ear down in a micro second, but truth be told, I have never liked the nasty things. My reply, “No, actually, I really like the Belgium waffles.” This was met with a half dozen blank and confused stares. One person said, “Now, what exactly is a Belgium waffle?” Assuming it was just called a different name here, I started describing it. About two inches thick, paper thin crust, a geometric design inside. No filling or any such thing, just the paper thin crust, slightly sweetened, deep fried. No one had ever seen such a thing. Last year Marsha and I went to the fair here before any food concessions had opened, so I didn’t get my yearly fix of Belgium waffles. Now I find out that I will likely never enjoy another of the crispy treats again. I am disappointed.

 One food that I will likely never eat is pork tenderloin. For us, a tenderloin is a cut of beef. A good cut of beef. You can get beef tenderloin here, too, I suppose, but here in Northwest Indiana it is all about the pork tenderloin. It might really be very good, too. I’ll never know. I can’t eat pork. I am down to just two or three strips of bacon without getting sick. I grew up eating pork and loved it, but as an adult everything changed. So, of course, the Lord brought us here to Pork Central, USA.

 Another thing that is different is the county fair. The difference is wrapped up in the name. Where we come from, in fact, everywhere we have ever lived, it is called the county fair. Here, it is the 4-H county fair. When we first moved here we heard of the 4-H county fair and thought that there would be two fairs; a 4-h fair and a regular county fair. Which pleased us. Where we came from, they had 4-H exhibits at the county fair, but it was no big deal as far as the fair was concerned. Most of our kids in our church were 4-H kids, but that really was the exception. The fair there was all about rides and exhibits that had nothing to do with anything interesting. One long building was devoted to political things. You could go in to register to vote or get information on your party or sign up for right to life and things like that. Another building would feature Culligan water, walk in bathtubs, travel agencies, job fairs, a Wal-Mart booth and so on. One building would feature the county’s history. 4-H and livestock were just a sidelight. If it wasn’t for our kids in 4-H, and later Marsha having the assignment to photograph the events, I doubt we would have even gone.

 But here, it is really cool! You start walking around the buildings and you can ask anyone any question about the animals, and they know. Even a little kid. Here, the rides are secondary. If I saw a political candidate anywhere, I didn’t know it because he/she wasn’t there to campaign. To me, this is what a county fair should be. Marsha entered a couple of photos and did well and was much more excited than she would have been in Ohio, because this is really a county fair! My only regret is that I couldn’t eat a Rich Valley tenderloin and there were no Belgium waffles.

 We have lived in Tennessee, Alabama, Florida (pursuing education in those three states), Ohio and now Indiana. We have been to fairs in all five places. All different. We have been to eateries in I don’t know how many states. They all have their regional things. (At a Cracker Barrel in Fredericksburg, Virginia the waitress asked us if we wanted sissy sticks with our drinks. At our confused looks she kind of rolled her eyes and said, “I guess you would call them ‘straws.’) We have been to, and preached or sang in, churches in New York, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia, Tennessee, Alabama, Florida, Ohio, Georgia and Indiana. All those churches were different. But in every one of those churches, in spite of all the differences in the people and the locales, when you say, ‘turn in your Bibles,’ they take their copy of the Word of God, they reverently open the Book and they settle back to hear the Word read.

           So, it’s not all different. Still, I would really like to have a Belgium waffle.