Catchy title HuH? Actually I was born here, but before you gag on your fingers, I go back only one generation: me. My parents have just started being accepted after moving here 30 years ago. It's my newly Transplanted (3 ys. now) Aunt Z and Uncle Lou that I always think about when I read your Transplant trash talk. They try so hard to blend in and be accepted. First they got on the Keep Portland Weird band wagon. I thought that was cool enough (emphasis on enough) but then they'd get all: "why are we ignored so?" or "what's with that cashier?....I go out of my way to be extra nice....but...not a blink or a nod"!

I do try to tell them don't worry those passive jerks just can't take your ebullience and are put off probably because they see it as false panache......but they never quite understand me. Who does really? Like I can't ask for better people so I just sit in Aunt Z's lap and bat her hand when she stops petting me. (Makes her feel extra loved) and I follow Uncle Lou around like he's a god....especially when he goes for that big white chilly door with everything good inside.