In the Air
I knew as we headed north that the language we’d be hearing would change again. The slow southern drawl of Mississippi would tighten up and become more nasal as we turned toward Ohio and on up to Minnesota. And I was eager to listen for more versions of something that first struck me in Greenville and has become what I’ve come to think of as the Question.
The Question: Put yourself in a social situation, with people you don’t really know but are trying to get to know a little more or maybe just have a conversation with. This is the question that comes after some version of “How do you do?” or “Nice to meet you,” or “How are you?” We can call it the conversation opener or, more specifically, the second question.
I first realized we were onto something in Greenville, South Carolina. Two women, both transplants to Greenville, reported to us in surprised tones that the question people asked them after the first question was “Where do you go to church?”
They were flummoxed; we were flummoxed. Does that sound a little bit presumptuous, or personal, or prying, or audacious, or even offensive? Or is it exactly what those of you from Greenville would expect to hear? Well, besides a general consensus (in my unscientific polling) that this is the Question in Greenville, I also heard from people from smaller towns in Idaho, Virginia, Maine, Kentucky, and all over the South who confirmed that this is how they get their conversations rolling, too.
In Chicago, older people told me that the variant “What’s your parish?” was so ubiquitous in their parlance growing up that even the folks who weren’t Catholic knew exactly which parish they lived in. Some said the same for Boston.
Then there is St. Louis. I challenge each of you to ask someone from St. Louis about their question. Without fail—and I’ve tried it with hundreds of people—the answer is “Where did you go to high school?” If you draw towns into a Venn diagram of this question, the entirety of St. Louis fits inside that circle. I’m told the school question is also popular in Cincinnati and Charlotte, Louisville, New Orleans, Baltimore, and the island of Oahu.
What we are really intending with a question like “Where do you go to church?” or “Where did you go to high school?” is to find a rather gentle, regionally and socially acceptable way of sizing someone up. We are using the question to gather valuable information about their socioeconomic, cultural, and historical background. The question is a veiled probe of “Where do you fit in my world?” or “Let me understand who you are.”
One person wrote me that the answer to “What’s your parish?” is used “as a social marker for everything from your baseball team to your likely politics, to your geographical desirability as a candidate for a movie on Friday night.” A woman from Texas said the answers carry a political overtone in her hometown of Waco, since everyone knows which churches are left- or right-leaning.
A second culturally loaded question asked in many sprawling metropolitan areas—like D.C., New York, Boston, Chicago, San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Houston—is “Where do you live?”
The more granular the answer, the better, say the folks from the big cities. Boston becomes Cambridge or Somerville, and then shrinks farther to the nearest square or subway station: Davis, Porter, Harvard, Central, Kendall, et cetera. Chicago becomes North Side or South Side, then a smaller slice, like Near North Side or South Loop. In our hometown of Washington, D.C., the generic answer of “D.C.” is usually followed by some divvying up into the quadrant or sections of the district versus the suburbs of Virginia or Maryland.
One person from New York suggested that the question may just be an excuse to lead into everyone’s favorite subject: real estate. Someone from the Low Country of South Carolina, in the southeast part of the state, said the calibration becomes “Which bend?,” as in which bend of the river.
I’ve been asked the default question in Washington, D.C., countless, truly countless times: “What do you do?” or “Where do you work?” The question reflects the currency of the town. The answer, according to many who offered their interpretation, suggests a measure of a person’s power and connections. I would add politics, passion, and money to that mix as well. It’s a New York question, too, and probably common in other cities with a predominant industry, like tech in the Bay Area, or academia in Boston, or “the industry” in Los Angeles.
Some younger people told me that they shy away from that question because it reeks as too sensitive or judgmental among a generation of those who are having trouble landing jobs, or don’t have a direction, or are just taking their sweet time figuring it out.
“Where are you from?” is a popular opener in Seattle, Austin, Madison, San Francisco, Los Angeles, Atlanta, and the entire state of Florida. It makes sense since so many people have moved there from elsewhere, maybe for a tech-rich environment or a guaranteed liberal culture, to stretch for the golden ring, or simply for the weather and absence of taxes.
Two places avoid this question: Alaska and Hawaii. Why? The Big Island of Hawaii is a relocation spot for the federal witness protection program. Alaska is well known as a place where people can start troubled lives over. “Where are you from?” can be an unwelcome foray into dangerous or uncomfortable territory.
“What are you?” This blunt question is after a description of ethnic or racial heritage. In Philadelphia or Boston, or more rural towns with big European populations, the question assumes that someone will say Irish, Polish, Italian, or German. Or maybe Hispanic or Native American. A lot of folks told me that they cringe when people ask this question.
At first, I thought it was a joke when I heard “Who’s your mama?” Until someone explained that in New Orleans, where everyone seems to know everyone else, they know who your daddy is from your last name, but your mama, now, that’s another matter. So the question really means “Who are your people?” or “Who do you belong to?” Folks from New Orleans also told me that a variant of “Who’s your mama?” is “How’s your mama ’n’ them?” That’s probably more for people you already know, and it strikes me as being soaked in southern personality.
Finally, there is a grab bag of geographically specific openers, many of which reflect a strong local culture or preoccupation. In fun-loving meccas of the country, like Burlington, the question “What do you do?” actually means “What do you do for fun?” Answers often circle around winter sports. In Denver, the question may be “Where do you ski/bike/hike?”
In Los Angeles, it’s about cars and driving: “How did you get here?” The answer usually takes the form of “I took the 10 to the 405…” And there may be a follow-up: “What do you drive?” In San Francisco: “What will we be eating?” or “What smells great?” or “What did you bring?” In Chicago, in response to “Who do you like?,” there are only two possible answers: the Cubs or the Sox. In Birmingham, the question is “Alabama or Auburn?” In Laramie: “Did you get your moose yet?” I’m not kidding you.
In orange-growing Redlands: “Do you have a citrus tree?” There is an expectation, nearly an entitlement, that every backyard will have a citrus tree. Once, when I replied that our little rental house didn’t have one, a kind of pained look fell across the face of my questioner, and he asked again, just to be sure: “Really, are you sure there’s not even a small orange tree?” Later that week, I found a few bags of oranges, grapefruit, and kumquats on our front step.
A lot of people told me that they dislike every one of these possibilities. As a questioner, they feel intrusive. As a respondent, they feel boxed in and, often, judged. A few people suggested that they are more comfortable asking an open-ended question, one that invites a person to take any number of directions to answer. It’s a question something like “So, what’s your story?”