Tuesday, June 21

Where everybody knows your name

As a child of the 80s, I am enamored with the television show Cheers. And having, six months ago, left my own personal, real-life Cheers behind when I moved from San Diego to the Florida Panhandle, I have been a bit blue that I lost my place (cue theme song music)
where everybody knows your name,
and they're always glad you came.
You wanna be where you can see,
our troubles are all the same.
You wanna be where everybody knows your name.

It has taken some adjustment to find a new coffee shop, grocery store, neighborhood bar, and - most especially - running group. Because for the past six months no one has known my name, or much cared, for that matter.

I am not being overly dramatic here. Most of the people of this fair town have lived their entire lives within a 50-mile radius, and don't have any need to make new friends. The rest of the population, like me, will be here 3 years or less and probably annoy the locals with our constant shuffling in and out. So the locals mostly just ignore us, and I can't say I blame them.

But maybe I spoke too soon?

Tonight, while out at the local pub run, I saw some of the hashers from Sunday night. Not only did they recognize me, they shouted my name across the parking lot, greeted me warmly, and brought me into their group.


After six months of weekly pub runs, someone finally knows my name!

(cue more theme music)

Tonight I glided through the run, and the lighter-than-air feeling had nothing to do with my stride.

If you have never moved away from your hometown before, you might not understand this feeling.

If you have moved far away from home, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

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