Born and raised in Orange County, I never considered leaving California until I got married.
We wanted to buy a house and start a family, but generally, the ones we could afford were fixer-uppers in neighborhoods we didn’t love.
So, we began looking at other states where we had family. My husband, who moved from Michigan to Los Angeles in middle school, swore he would never go back — and I couldn’t identify Michigan on a map or tell you one fact about it.
We didn’t want to be beholden to a big mortgage, though, and in Michigan, we could purchase an affordable home in a town known for having some of the state’s top public schools. Even better, we’d be welcomed by my husband’s big Italian family, who lived nearby.
When we told our friends we were moving to Michigan, they were shocked. All any Californian knew about Michigan was that it was cold and snowy — why would anyone choose that?
Now, 20 years later, I can confidently say it was a great decision.
When I first moved to Michigan, I experienced some culture shock
Kristi Valentini
In Orange County, I was the kind of person who would bury my nose in a magazine to avoid chatting with a hairdresser. I rushed through the checkout line and never said, “How are you doing?” to someone I didn’t know.
If small talk was ever forced upon me, I gave away as little about myself as possible. I never understood the point in discussing my life — or even something as simple as the weather — with someone I didn’t know.
In Michigan, though, small talk is unavoidable. I quickly learned that there’s no getting around friendly cashiers and shop owners. I was begrudgingly polite, but it initially took some effort to hide my impatience.
Chatting with neighbors feels much more commonplace here, too, especially because my subdivision doesn’t allow fences.
I was shocked to go from Orange County’s 6-foot cinder-block backyard walls to wide-open lawns and zero privacy, practically forcing me to interact with my new neighbors any time I gardened or enjoyed a glass of wine on the patio.
Over time, I noticed that having friendly neighbors and being a part of a community made me feel safer and more relaxed
Kristi Valentini
The kindness of Michiganders started to change me.
In my first year of living in Michigan, our mailbox got hit by a car while my husband and I were at the gym. Our neighbors had cleaned up the mess and gotten the driver’s info for us by the time we got home.
I was so surprised they would do that for us; it struck me as something that probably wouldn’t have happened back in California.
Then, when we had a baby three years into living here, another neighbor further down the street — one I hadn’t even met yet — brought us dinner just because she saw a baby announcement sign in our yard. I was touched that a stranger would go out of their way to do that for us.
When we started taking our kids trick-or-treating for Halloween, I discovered that Midwesterners do that differently, too. They didn’t just spoil the kids. They set up tables of spiked hot chocolate and Jell-O shots for the adults and invited people to warm up by their driveway bonfires. It became a community event.
Eventually, I found myself initiating connections with neighbors, too — and even starting up some small talk. It began with other dog-walkers in my neighborhood as our pups sniffed each other, and at the grocery store as a pleasant way to pass the time while being rung up.
Living in Michigan has changed what I value in a hometown
Kristi Valentini
When I visited California to see friends and family a few years after living in Michigan, I could tell how much I’d changed already. It seemed rude to me when people didn’t say hi when passing me on a sidewalk, or when cashiers didn’t make chit-chat.
Because now, I’m the kind of person who makes caramel apples for my neighbors. I chat with fellow shoppers about candle scents in Crate and Barrel and know about my hairdresser’s children and chickens.
I even decorate my front porch — something I’ve noticed that nearly everyone in my neighborhood does. Seasonal wreaths and flowerpots, chairs with pillows and throw blankets, encourage people passing by to come on up and say hi.
I do sometimes miss California’s backyard privacy, and I’ll never stop using SoCal slang like “cool” and “dude.” Still, I’m glad I moved to a place that helped me become a friendlier person and taught me the value of community. I couldn’t imagine raising my children anywhere else.
