While others wear their local status on T-shirts or bumper stickers, I'm not that presumptuous. A preferential treatment salad perhaps, but only after a decade with the same zip code.
Just because you know shortcuts to get around town during Cherry Festival doesn't make you a local. At least not by definition of those that remember angle parking on Front Street. True local status is bestowed on those whose last name appears on road signs -- and not the private drive to the lake kind.
Although I'm considered a local columnist, the title is a bit audacious for a transplant with roots no deeper than 1996. Sure your face plastered in a newspaper brings slight recognition, but it hardly carries the weight of a cornerstone named after a great-grandfather.
I write T.C. on my return address, but I'm far from a localite.
However, I have been around the block long enough to reach the loyal customer category at a few places downtown. At one particular eatery I've been elevated to Hello-name-said-out-loud status when I walk in the door. Kind of like "Cheers" without the laugh track -- or beer nuts.
It makes me a bit self-conscious, but it's better than being on a first name basis with the jailors at county lockup.
During my latest cafe visit, I stood in line behind an out-of-town couple. No flip-flops, but she conversed on the cell phone while he tried to order off the menu for her. Although I shouldn't be judgemental -- they might have been on staycation and wanted to act like tourists for the day.
Resigned to wait my turn, something happened to change my status in the community -- or at one lunch counter line.
I received preferential salad treatment.
Another employee took my order by name and made it before Ms. Cell Phone finished her call. It wasn't a Dom Perignon first-class bump, but it felt like 'cuts' in elementary school without fear of paddle punishment.
While I didn't move ahead in line, I moved a step closer to permanent resident 12 years after unpacking the U-Haul.
However, one personal salad does not equate to the full course local label.
Now you can pass for a local after a few years, but it takes decades to achieve local character. If you want to include the adjective "colorful" better throw in several calendar years and a convincing body of work. Local gadfly means you've stuck around long enough to establish a Letter to the Editor portfolio. While local institution implies one foot in the ground and a bust of your likeness in the town square.
Aside from salad perks, my local status doesn't extend much beyond "you from around here?" direction inquiries.
Traverse City will never be my native home, but my daughter can claim that birthright privilege. However, slapping a "Don't Hassle Me I'm Local" bumper sticker on her My Little Pony bike seems a tad presumptuous.
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