On the surface there is little common ground between the land of chickens, grain and cattle and the concrete of inner-city Winnipeg. It's assumed the daily routines of farmers, ranchers and inner-city preachers are unrelated.
Take my brother-in-law, Mike. When I saw him, I thought he looked familiar. Like I had seen him long ago in New York. Then I realized it was his striking resemblance to the Marlboro Man. Western hat, cowboy boots, jacket and a cigarette atop a horse against a prairie sky. He looked just like the billboards I remember by the side of the freeways in New York City.
Some of the "wild west" stereotypes seem to fit. I counted about eight guns in the house. For Christmas, their 10-year-old son got a new rifle and a spinning target. Mike and Linda own and run a motel frequented by hunters. He accompanies many of the newbies. He jokes about plans for some T-shirts to hype the hunting. On the front of one shirt is the comment "Stop the killing." The back of the shirt sports a splattered prairie dog in the crosshairs of a gun and the retort, "NOT!"
Mike's sarcasm revealed his lack of vulnerability to the political correctness solicited by our urban milieu. As we watched an NBA game, he shared his notion of employment equity. "Raise the hoops to 14 feet!"
But Mike also defies the stereotypes. Kids see through the gruff exterior and invariably feel comfortable around Mike. His quick wit and hunger for learning are fed by voracious reading and a preference for the History Channel. He patiently taught us as we walked and worked outside. Linda volunteers in the community. Both are loved in their community.
But there are a few stereotypes about city slickers as well. Some country folk feel city people don't work very hard, won't get their hands real dirty and couldn't talk plain to save their lives. Despite differences and stereotypes, however, we quickly found some similarities.
Here and there, newcomers watch where they walk. Mike probably chuckled to himself as I tiptoed through the cowpies, horsepies and other stuff in the yard and fields. The deep treads on my city shoes are great for snow, but they're real stinkers for the muck on the ranch. In Winnipeg they watch their step around dangerous riffraff or hazardous waste such as condoms and needles.
Here and there, it seems sex is right out in the open. We got more education than we wanted when walking through the horse corral. But some cats and people in our neighbourhood are not much more discreet than a "needy" horse. Here and there, the twin dangers of inner-city violence and crime headline the newscasts. The important news for farmers and ranchers, however, comes later in the broadcast, in announcements of flooding and drought or commodity prices.
Here and there, infrastructure deteriorates. On the chicken farm in Arkansas, they raise 45,000 chickens at a time. Last month, a problem with their ventilation system killed 3,200 chicks. The South Dakota grain farmer deals with more acres and machines than I care to count. Managing Mike and Linda's vehicles, buildings, land, cattle and horses is an overwhelming thought.
Yet they come here and are overwhelmed by the state of disrepair in Winnipeg 's inner city buildings and roads.
Here and there, people do their best when times are hard. Aside from raising chickens, my wife's sister works in data processing and her husband drives long-haul. Her grain growing brother also works as an electrician and his wife teaches music. Linda and Mike run a ranch and a motel, and she also works in a bank.
Over the holidays, we had no problem finding things to talk about. We talked and learned about each other's struggles to make a living. We talked about our kids, our pasts and our hopes for the future.
The wild, wild west of South Dakota and the wild, wild West End of Winnipeg are not as far apart as we thought. Who would have thought we have so much in common!
Rev. Harry Lehotsky
514 Maryland Street
Winnipeg, Mb R3G 1M5
(204) 775-4929
lehotsky@escape.ca