I live in a state where all my life I've heard, "It's a wonderful place to raise a family."  I guess I never really questioned it.  I mean, it's Middle America.  Not too far south, not too far north.  A border state in the Civil War.  I grew up in a town with low crime, made up of mostly working families.  Why wouldn't it be a great place to raise a family?  Nothing ever happens there.  Nothing.  And that is just how the locals like it. Growing up there, I always felt like the square peg squeezing myself through that round hole.  I'm the only person in my family who left.  I'm the only one to get married older than 20.  I'm the only one with a college education.  Thank the Gods I don't live there anymore!

Now that I'm out of that environment in a larger city within the same state, I mostly don't worry about what goes on there.  From time to time I do have telephone conversations with non-thinking, conflict-avoidant, God-fearing relatives and I have to stop to shake my fists in frustration.  But mostly I try to just be tolerant of their beliefs and remember that those unchangeable beliefs work for them.  After all, my husband and I can ignore it.  We know the truth even if they are incapable of seeing it.  But what about our son?