Elisabeth Kwak-Hefferan: Rallying some regional pride for the Midwest

Until I came to Penn, I'd never heard the term "flyover country." Now, though, after mingling with representatives from all regions of this sweet land of liberty for two and a half years, I can regretfully report that "flyover country" refers to the vast stretch of land between the west coast of California and the Eastern Seaboard. Apparently, these states serve no other purpose than to provide space to fly over as one journeys from one cultural hotspot to the other. Ahem. Those who take note of the end of my column will see I hail from the middle of the middle: Illinois. So on behalf of the entire Midwest, I'll reveal the best-kept secret of American regionalism: there's just no better place to live than in the lovely area spanning Minnesota to Missouri, Iowa to Ohio. I'm sure the four other Penn students from the great Midwest will appreciate it. Now, I realize every other region has to deal with its own set of negative stereotypes. New Yorkers are rude. Californians are all pot-smoking, granola hippies. Southerners are backward, redneck racists. New Jersey just smells. But these unflattering assessments betray an important fact: insults prove they're worthy of attention. Therefore, the relative lack of barbs against Midwesterners is a scorching dismissal -- c'mon, the best you can do is to accuse us of tipping cows for fun. What we Midwesterners face, then, is not so much an image problem as a lack of image. Granted, that doesn't bother us much, since we're substance-over-style people. But since regional attributes seem to matter so much around here, and since it would be nice for the "valley of humility" that is the Midwest to get some respect from the "mountains of conceit" that surround it, I'll rally some regional pride. The main misperception about the Midwest is that there's nothing important there, nothing worth seeing -- just miles upon miles of cornfields punctuated by the occasional overalls-clad farmer selling tomatoes on the side of the highway. Okay, the land is flat. We do have some cornfields. But we also have beautiful, varied landscapes with fantastic forest preserves and parks. We've got rivers and sand dunes and beaches, too. Oh yes, beaches just as great as those on the coasts, except you won't have to jump out of the water yelping when the salt water gets into a cut. Nor will you be eaten by a shark. So the Midwest is full of natural wonders, but even those who dwell in the farmland enjoy their cornfields. Nothing completes an evening of shucking corn at a hoedown like taking the city folk out into the fields for a "snipe hunt" and sneaking away, leaving them lost and helpless in the dark. Physical attributes of the land aside, the Midwest can claim plenty of importance. Illinois, for example, is a key political state. Don't forget that everyone's favorite president, Abraham Lincoln, chose to spend his younger years there -- and it's just foolish to argue with Honest Abe. We also hold our own in the cultural sphere. Chicago, one of the finest cities on the planet, offers all of the cultural amenities you can dream up. Arts? We've got a huge Picasso statue. Theater? It rivals Broadway (and shows often get their start there before moving to New York, such as the recent smash hit, what's-it-called, the one with the Billy Joel songs). Culture? The Midwest boasts such vital institutions as the Gerald Ford Museum. Our music is superior as well. That band of the ages, the Smashing Pumpkins, came out of the Midwestern scene. Hell, Bob Dylan himself hung around Minnesota before he headed east. But the very best part about the Midwest is simply the Midwesterners. I've noticed some slight cultural differences that set regions apart. Basically, Midwesterners are friendly, open, salt-of-the-earth type people. Not that you East or West Coasters are deliberately unfriendly, that is -- you just don't strike up conversations easily or get off your cell phones while conducting business or move out of the way when approaching someone on the sidewalk so that she has to leap out of the way at the last minute or be trampled under your boots. So you New Yorkers can keep your black pants and your stock exchange. Ditto for you West Coasters and your tofu and dreadlocks. Philadelphia is a nice place to be for a while, but there's nowhere I'd rather live than in the heart of the country. If you've got a problem with that characterization, by all means, come visit and we'll talk about it. I've got a snipe I'd love to show you. Elisabeth Kwak-Hefferan is a junior communications major from Wheaton, Ill.

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