In 1996, when the girls were six, four, and one, we relocated the family from San Diego to Minnesota. In some ways, this made no sense. We loved San Diego. We were living in a small but lovely home, not at all bothered that we were bursting at the seams with more daughters than bedrooms. Francine’s parents would come every summer from Texas to visit, living out of an RV that they parked about 30 minutes away, and enjoying the mild weather and the proximity to their daughter and grandchildren. Other than their benevolent presence for a month or two each year, our extended families left us alone for the most part, which was profoundly healthy for our new marriage.
So you might ask, who in their right mind would move from San Diego, the city with statistically the best climate in the U.S., to the Twin Cities, a place famous for its brutal winters? Well, hear me out. Weather matters, but it’s not the most important thing when deciding where to live. I know there are millions of people in California and Florida who would not agree, but I have a theory about that. Two theories, actually, one for each state.
My theory about Florida is that people from the Midwest have a latent gene, which lies dormant and unexpressed for the first 55 years of life. Minnesotans may go to Florida for vacation in the winter, but it’s just a seasonal escape. They wouldn’t actually live there. It’s too hot, too flat, and too crowded. It’s filled with old people and trailer parks. And then, they reach their mid-50s, and suddenly the gene switches on, and the gene says “Florida is nice, maybe we should move there.”
My theory about California is that when people move there from a place like Minnesota, they all have the same reaction at first, which is that they have moved to paradise. They bliss out, especially when winter comes to the Midwest and the weather stays mild in California. This is a perfectly natural reaction, because California is fantastic. Many of the transplants become permanent converts, and who can blame them? But for some of them the magic eventually rubs off and they have second thoughts. I was one of those. As time passed, I got increasingly tired of the freeways and strip malls and high cost of living. San Diego’s climate is lovely, but it doesn’t vary much, at least compared to Minnesota's. I began to miss the change of seasons in Minnesota, and the forests and lakes.
In any case, there were at least two other considerations of greater importance than the weather when it came to our decision to move back to Minnesota. The first was my career. I had stalled out at the law firm where I worked, and I felt the need to make a change. The second was the gravitational pull of my extended family. It’s not a perfect family—no big extended family is—but there is simply no substitute for the lifelong web of connections that a large family provides. I had left the Twin Cities in my twenties because I wanted an adventure, and because I needed some space from a family that, at that point in my life, felt suffocating. But ten years later, things were different. Above all, I was different. I had established my independence, I had matured considerably, and I felt I could return on my own terms. So when I got a good job offer at a company in Minneapolis, I took it.
Minnesota turned out to be a great place to raise the girls. The extended family has proved to be a huge blessing. With a big family, you are exposed to a broad range of human imperfections, and you can’t just opt out. You have to learn how to navigate relationships. As they grew up, our daughters gradually learned to distinguish between the “normal” relatives and the “crazy” relatives, and they have come to love them all.
One of the many things that makes Minnesota a great place to raise kids is its natural beauty. We don’t have mountains, and we don’t have an ocean, but our great North Woods are just a few hours from the Twin Cities. Even closer we have rivers, lakes, paths, and lovely state parks. As the girls grew up we took them out into the lakes and woods at every opportunity. This was pretty close to a parental no-brainer. Kids love the outdoors, and it does them a world of good to run around outside and explore their world. It’s cheap, too, and they have more fun than they could at an artificial indoor amusement destination.
Francine was a bit trepidatious at first. She is from Texas, and for her, winter was something that you visited for short periods, usually involving a ski vacation. She didn’t like cold weather (she still doesn’t), and California’s climate suited her perfectly. The idea of moving to the coldest metropolitan area in the U.S., where she would be surrounded with in-laws, gave her some pause. But Francine also has a keen sense of adventure, and she likes to travel and try different places. So, despite the strong element of bait-and-switch involved, Francine consented. Since then we have had many wistful moments—especially in the depths of winter—thinking of the life we left behind, but we have never regretted the decision. And, now that we’re retired, we spend a couple of months a year back in California during the winter, among old friends and old haunts. You might say we have the best of both worlds.
The first relocation, then, was a big success. The second, not so much.
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