I was born and raised in South Jersey -- the half of New Jersey that is "The Garden State." If you walked down the street and saw someone, you said Hi, if you knew them or not. They returned in like kind. If you run out of bread, it really was fine to go next door to see if you could borrow a loaf, and then return a new loaf the next day. It was fine if all the kids huddled in one house after school, because the mothers would be calling each other to say Hi to their friends anyway, so they'd figure out who has the kids. Everyone knew everyone else. To this day, I can name all the neighbors on my block -- all sides -- except apartment-people, and they simply never really counted because they moved in and out so fast no one ever remembered their names. If Mrs. Foltz or Mrs. Allen corrected me, it was as if Mom was doing it.
And then we moved into Philly in 1991. Do you know that look a person gets when they think you're about to mug them? I do. I said Hi to the first person I saw walking down the street the first time. He had that look. He was a guy, my size, so he could have beat me up if I was going to mug him. I apologized. He scurried away. (I'm big for a woman, but I'm not scary. Honest!)
I tried to learn not to say Hi to people, but if I'm in my own thoughts, sometimes I forgot. One woman was sitting on her steps looking uncomfortable because of the heat and I remarked about the weather when I passed. Apparently, she thought I was going to mug her too. It was the short end of a block -- she on one end and I had continued on all the way to the other end -- before I heard her shout at me, "Hey! What you say?"
I looked back. She was ready for a fight if I said the wrong words. I shouted back that it was hot out. She calmed down, but continued to stare, so I kept walking.
A couple of weeks ago I was walking down the street and a strange man said Hi. I was startled, but smiled and said Hi back. Then I noticed stuff had changed in my city. People waiting for buses talk. People on buses talked, even when they don't know each other. (Three people in one trip told me they really liked my poncho. I was happy. I crocheted it. It's the famous "Martha Steward poncho" that an inmate/friend made for her when she was in prison, and I liked it. Does anyone remember that anymore? It's pretty old. lol)
On Monday we had to go to South Jersey for some shopping. A specialty store, so it's small with a staff of three. I asked them -- and they're behind a counter, so surely they should have expected a question or two from customers -- for help in deciding what to buy. You know that look a person gets when they think you're going to mug them? Same look. I had to ask three different questions and then joke when I got the answer I wanted, (I joke around a lot with people in stores -- never did lose that lol), before that look disappeared.
While we were there, we realized we didn't take any cash to pay the bridge toll on the way home. (You have to pay to get out of Jersey, but it's free to go into Jersey. lol) We stopped off at a grocery store. When I first moved into the city, grocery stores scared me because they were so big. Can I cover that much mileage? How in the world do I look for something as simple as a jar of mustard in a sea that size? Well, that store made the ones in Philly look quaint. You could put two baseball diamond, including stands, in there. HUGE! Scared me! But produce is produce, so we bought some bananas and blueberries and then went to an open line. (First person in line. That never happens in Philly. lol)
The cashier said a bunch of things to me so fast, I still don't know what she said. My only answer was, "Whoa! You talk fast." She laughed and said she'd been saying it for nine years. (I didn't tell her I couldn't understand what she said.)
So, Philly is friendly and talks at a normal rate. And Jersey got seriously unfriendly and talks like New Yorkers after a free-refill special at Starbucks. I'm still the country bumpkin amazed at the size and speed of life on the other side of the river. Golly!