Yet again, my goal to post more often has not come to pass! It’s been many months since my last entry. One reason is that my father passed away in December 2023, and I have been preoccupied with grief and busy with being the co-executor of his estate. In preparing our family home for sale, I have had to go through so many mementos and photos. Some of them bring back memories of my childhood and youth, and others are from before I was even born. It is a strange feeling to look at snapshots of the life of relatives you never knew, or those you only knew when they were older.
One thing that has been really interesting for me is an album that my maternal great grandparents on my grandfather, John Farr’s, side put together. I love looking at old photos, and it’s been very special seeing shots of my grandfather and his siblings as babies, children, teens, and young adults. I’d seen some of the photos of my grandfather before, but many of these photos are new to me. There are people I recognize, and there are others who remain a mystery, as some of the photos are not labeled, and all who knew those pictured in the oldest photos are long gone. I already had some gems from my maternal great grandparents on my grandmother, Sally Davis Farr’s, side and have loved looking through them.
I recently shared a few photos on social media of my great grandparents on their wedding day and around the time they got married. Several people commented that they were surprised to see my great grandparents being affectionate in the photos–perhaps they had only seen photos in which everyone looked serious, or even dour. It is sweet and somehow comforting to see displays of affection or silliness in historic photos. I will share a few of my family favorites here.
Late 1800s/early 1900s: My maternal great grandparents, Wally Davis (top center) and Mattie Davis (on steps behind man with arm raised) goofing around with friends, probably in Wilkes-Barre, PA.Late 1800s/early 1900s: My maternal great grandparents, Wally Davis (top center) and Mattie Davis (on steps facing camera) goofing around with friends, probably in Wilkes-Barre, PA.
Late 1800s/early 1900s: My maternal great grandparents, Wally Davis (far right sitting in barrel) and Mattie Davis (front, center, facing camera) goofing around with friends, probably in Wilkes-Barre, PA.
Late 1800s: An unknown woman with a child who may be my great aunt Jean with a puppy, probably in Wilkes-Barre, PA.
1902: My great grandfather, Edward Farr, kisses his new wife, Sara Rae Morris Farr, on the cheek. They are probably on the Farr family farm in Forkston, PA.1902: My great grandfather, Edward Farr, and his new wife, Sara Rae Morris Farr, holding hands. They are probably on the Farr family farm in Forkston, PA.
1910: My grandmother Sally Davis (Farr) with dog, probably in Wilkes-Barre, PA.
Around 1912: My grandfather John Farr with friend Claire McKown. My grandfather looks pouty because he wanted a bicycle, not a tricycle! Tunkhannock, PA.
Around 1920: Grandmother Sally Davis (Farr) in a canoe on Lake Carey, PA.
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
–Robert Frost
I went to a holiday choir concert yesterday, and one of the pieces sung was “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” by Robert Frost. I hadn’t realized there was a melody someone had written for this classic poem. It was lovely and also melancholy.
In researching some of the possible symbolism of the poem, I found a lot of theories, many based in psychology and mythology. One was regarding what winter represents. It’s a time of year when the days are colder and shorter, and (at least in many places) trees and plants have shed their leaves and gone dormant until spring or have died. It is a time of year for reflection, hibernation, and quiet. It can be a lonely and sad time of year for many. As a psychologist, I know many people (both in my clientele and in my personal life) who experience seasonal depression linked to the lack of daylight and limitations on outdoor activity in the late fall and winter. Some also find the holidays challenging if they are from families that don’t get along or are distant, if they have lost people close to them, or for many other reasons.
Winter also has some more joyful or hopeful associations, such as the fun of playing in the snow as a child, the wonder of a quiet and sparkly night after the snow has fallen, and the magic of holiday celebrations when the holidays are pleasant and meaningful. Stepping back to view the cycles of the year in a more holistic way can remind us that everything is impermanent, and although winter can be seen as bringing death, it can also be seen as bringing the preparation for new life: Winter can represent the pregnant pause between harvest and a lush spring, when things are getting ready to germinate and creativity is brewing.
“The dark wood” often represents the unconscious in Jungian or Freudian psychology. When a story involves going into a dark wood, this often means that the protagonist must face a challenge or learn a lesson before they can re-emerge into the light of everyday life. Perhaps Frost’s hero is reflecting on his life and finding the meaning and motivation to face what he must before he is ready to move forward. The fact that the horse “must think it queer” may allude to the protagonist typically living a more pragmatic life, not pausing to introspect very often, but simply doing what he must and avoiding going deep into his emotional, spiritual, psychological life. If the horse represents work and duty, self-reflection may seem a luxury that cannot be entertained often.
A darker meaning to Frost’s poem is that the narrator is tired of living and is contemplating suicide–the dark and quiet woods may represent a fantasy of his going to sleep forever and leaving the struggles of his life behind. What keeps him going is the realization that he has obligations in his life that he must honor; the time for death is not now.
Examining these potential meanings of the poem made me think that it was not necessarily a sunny and joyous choice to include this as a song in a holiday concert. But on the other hand, the holidays can be a time to contemplate what is meaningful to us and to sit with our whole range of thoughts and feelings.
I’ve been visiting the Morris Arboretum & Gardens in the bucolic Chestnut Hill neighborhood of Philadelphia pretty often, having bought an annual membership. Not only is is a beautiful and historic arboretum, but the brother and sister who founded it, John Thompson Morris (1847-1915) and Lydia Thompson Morris (1849-1932), were first cousins to my great great grandfather, James Wilson Morris, so I have a family connection. The Morris Arboretum is also the official arboretum of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania.
My great great grandfather, James Morris, 1888
Lydia Morris on the porch of Compton (the Morris’ home) with dog, around 1890. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
John Morris, around 1880. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
The Morris Arboretum & Gardens began as Compton, the private estate of the siblings. John and Lydia had purchased farmland in the Chestnut Hill area of Philadelphia in 1887 and began planning a garden that would combine art and science and preserve various trees, flowers, and other flora.
Compton in the 1930s. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
The land was initially barren, with many steep slopes. From the beginning, John and Lydia shared a vision for Compton to become a public garden and educational institution one day. Over time, the siblings bought adjacent parcels, including the farm across the street, improved the land, and planted collections of exotic and native trees and shrubs from across the temperate world. They also had walls and other features built and added statuary. They traveled a lot and often were inspired by gardens they visited. John was interested in growing plants from China, including those collected by British plant collector E. H. Wilson around 1900, and many of the plants currently in the arboretum date to Morris’ original plantings.
John Morris in Flower Walk Trellis, late 1880s. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
John and Lydia Morris by the Love Temple on Swan Pond, 1908. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
Swan Pond with Love Temple, 2023. Photo by Blair Davis.
In addition to all the plants, John added some outbuildings and several distinctive structures to the grounds, including the fernery (now the only remaining freestanding Victorian fernery in North America), a log cabin built as a private retreat for Lydia, and the Mercury Loggia, constructed in 1913 to commemorate the Morrises’ 25th anniversary at Compton. There was also an old springhouse that was there when John and Lydia had purchased the property.
Log Cabin, 1911. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
The Log Cabin in 2023. Photo by Blair Davis.
Workmen laying rocks in Ravine Garden with the Loggia in the background, 1913. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
The Mercury Loggia in 2023. Photo by Blair Davis.
Inside the fernery, 2023. Photo by Blair Davis.
John died in 1915, leaving the estate in trust to Lydia. The plan was for Compton to eventually become a botanical garden and school for horticulturists. Lydia continued to cultivate the grounds until her death in 1932, when she bequeathed the property to the University of Pennsylvania. From then on, it was known as the Morris Arboretum of the University of Pennsylvania. The Compton house was used as a research center for many years, but after it began to deteriorate, it was demolished in 1968.
The Morris contains more than 11,000 labeled plants from temperate regions of North America, Asia, and Europe, with a primary focus on Asia. The Morris has identified 17 trees in its collection as outstanding specimens, including a massive katsura tree and a grove of redwoods. Newer additions include a miniature railroad and the Tree Adventure exhibit, which includes the Tree Canopy Walk, a giant bird nest, and a net platform. In 2023, the arboretum changed its name to the Morris Arboretum & Gardens to honor its renewed focus on colorful flower gardens as well as trees. If you haven’t visited, you should!
My parents with a statue of Lydia Morris, 1990.
Me with statues of Lydia and John Morris, 2021.
John Tonkin (head gardener from 1913-1975), with his daughter, Margaret Tonkin Medlar, and wife, Margaret Williams Tonkin, by the Love Temple, 1919. Photo courtesy of the Morris Arboretum archives.
Swan seen through Love Temple, 2023. Photo by Blair Davis.
Spring is here. This is the first full East Coast spring I have experienced since I moved from Pennsylvania to California in 2005. As you may know if you know me or have followed by blog, after living in northern and central California for 17 years, I moved back to Pennsylvania in July 2022. It’s been a big adjustment in many ways, some of them difficult, but the spring has brought me a lot of happiness and hope, despite some tough personal and national events. The experience of the transition from winter to spring is something I had forgotten about. In the parts of California where I lived, it felt like perpetual spring–it rarely got below 50 during the day and was rarely above 75. There was often sunshine, and flowers bloomed everywhere. True, there was little rain, but in other ways, it was spring-like much of the time. I never took for granted the mild climate and natural beauty of California, but living there, I did lose touch with how wonderful the change from winter to spring can be.
Now that I am back in Pennsylvania and lived through winter, my least favorite season (although thankfully, it was not a very cold winter this year), I remember how amazing the spring feels. The shift from darker to lighter days, the soft rains, the sudden exuberance of forsythia bushes and daffodils and cherry blossoms, the golden-green haze of leaves starting to sprout on the trees–it’s so magical.
As a psychologist, I often work with people who get depressed in the winter. Even in California, the land of perpetual spring, a lot of the clients I treated would start to get more down when the time changed in fall and begin to feel better come March or April. There, it was mainly the daylight that played a role. But here, it’s not just the longer days that can give us a mood boost, it’s also the warmer weather and emergence of flowers and tree buds. I would not say I get depressed in winter, but I definitely feel lower, less energetic, and at times a little stir-crazy when it’s too dark or cold to enjoy the outdoors. Spring brings more comfort and safety to being outside after work hours. It allows for more enjoyment of getting out and about, being more active. The switch from the browns and grays of winter to the brighter colors of the season stimulates the eyes and the emotions.
Spring is a season of rebirth (especially here in the northeast and other places with four distinct seasons), with the plants coming back to life after the dormancy and death of winter. Many animals give birth. People begin planting flower gardens and getting ready to plant vegetables that will grow throughout the spring and summer. Throughout written history, humans have seen this time of year as one that brings feelings of hope. Christians observe Easter as the celebration of new life and resurrection. Jews celebrate Passover, which acknowledges liberation from oppression. Muslims participate in Ramadan, which calls for self-reflection and sacrifice, then Eid al-Fitr, which celebrates gratitude and blessings. There is an element of starting anew in all of these religious holidays.
It’s harder to feel hopeful at the moment with many of the things happening in the United States and the world. It’s painful to see more and more gun violence, more crime, and the erosion of rights for LGBTQ people. It’s difficult to be mired in this era of division and polarization. The past month has also brought some losses to me, friends and family, and therapy clients. But seeing the renewal of spring reminds me that change can happen, growth can happen, and life does go on.
Spring makes it easier for me to engage in one of my favorite self-care activities: walking and hiking in nature. I plan to make the most of the mild days and sunshine, as well as my boost in energy and mood. It’s easier to face the pain and challenges of life when the sun is out and the flowers are blooming.
A week or two ago, one of my therapy clients was talking about regrets related to her late mother, which of course stirred up memories and feelings for me about my mom, who died from complications of cancer in 2020. After that therapy session and a few other coincidental things that were bringing up grief for me, I suddenly realized that I may have old voicemails from my mother in my phone. I am not sure what prevented me from realizing that prior to recently, but I immediately started searching in my phone, and sure enough, there were a few messages from her in my “Deleted Messages” folder.
Because I hadn’t realized the voicemails were still there (I regularly delete messages and didn’t know they were still stored in “Deleted Messages”), I hadn’t heard them since my mother left them in 2018, 2019, and 2020. I listened to a couple and was flooded by sadness, grief, and longing to talk to my mom again. One message in particular, from New Year’s Eve 2019, was so painful to hear, as in it my mom said “2020 sounds pretty good.” She had said similar things a few times around the end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020, as the prior year had been challenging due to her declining health, contentious U.S. politics, and other things, and she was optimistic that 2020 would be better. Little did she know that 2020 would bring the COVID pandemic and her further decline and death from multiple myeloma. It was one of the worst years ever for our family.
My mother, Penny Davis, at the bed and breakfast where she and my father spent every New Year’s Eve. This was taken on December 31, 2019, my mother’s last New Year’s. It was also the day she left me a voicemail expressing her optimism for 2020.
I often think of my mother and wish I could call her, but hearing her voice in those messages was so powerful. It took me right back to the moments when she left the voicemails, bringing up memories of small day-to-day things and “bigger” events, both good and bad. It got me thinking about how profoundly sound can trigger emotions.
A Little Science
There are a few reasons auditory stimuli are emotionally evocative. One is that the human brainstem is hardwired to respond to certain sounds for survival reasons–think of the jolt of fear you get when you hear a crash in the middle of the night that wakes you from a sound sleep. So, sounds can trigger fear, anger, love, and other strong feelings that can help us react.
Another reason is that we have “mirror neurons,” brain cells that are activated both when we perform a task (e.g., talking about something personal while tearing up) and when we observe someone else performing the same task (e.g., seeing someone else cry while telling us something). Mirror neurons allow us to feel emotionally connected to others.
Additionally, the ways in which our brain stores memories create this strong connection between sound and feeling. We are conditioned to associate certain sounds with certain times in our lives. Also, one type of memory called “episodic memory,” which has to do with long-term memories about specific experiences we’ve had, is often vivid and emotional, allowing us to re-experience things we’ve done. The hippocampus, a part of the brain, is involved in storing, processing, and retrieving long-term factual and spatial memories, and it is also a part of the limbic system, which controls our emotions and our fight-flight-freeze reactions.
Reflecting on Sound and Grief
It’s so interesting–and sometimes very difficult–how sounds and other stimuli can trigger strong feelings and grief. Anyone who has lost a loved one knows that a seemingly innocuous or trivial activity, like watching a rerun of a TV show that has nothing overtly to do with the person we’ve lost, can cause us to be flooded with emotion: We suddenly remember watching the show with our lost loved one, or someone in the show is wearing a sweater that reminds us of the person. Given that unrelated stimuli can bring strong feelings, I guess it should be no surprise that hearing my mother’s voice and particularly listening to messages she left in the last 8 months of her life would stir up a ton.
So, I’m sitting tenderly with my emotions and memories and have tried to give myself time to listen to the messages again when I was feeling more prepared. Be kind and gentle with yourself if you are also experiencing grief and missing someone close to you. My heart is with you if you are holding grief, too.
Well, 2022 is over! In some ways it went quickly and in other ways not. It was a memorable year, in that I moved back to Philadelphia after 17 years living in California. There’s a lot to enjoy in Philly, and I made the move to be closer to family and old friends, but there have also been a lot of challenges. I am not the sort of person who quickly adapts to new situations, although I do always try to make the best of things when possible. So, even though it’s been 5 months since I moved, I am still getting used to my new life back in PA. With all the changes, I’ve felt optimistic and excited at times and sad, anxious, and homesick for California at other times.
One thing that usually helps me to cope when I am feeling down is to get outside. That has been more challenging for me in Philly (especially now, in the winter) than it was in CA, as I prefer my weather mild and gentle, which is not always the case here. Another thing that often lifts my spirits is taking photos and then editing and sharing them. I was feeling off this weekend, so I spent some of today walking in a beautiful nearby park and taking some shots. Lucky for me, it was 55 degrees and sunny!
Since it is New Year’s Day, I was reflecting on 2022, which made me want to look back on some of the photos I took over the year. So, I am sharing some of my favorites with you! I chose these based on aesthetics, not sentiment, but many of them do give me the warm feels. I hope you enjoy them.
January 2022: Lake Merced, San Francisco, CAJanuary 2022: Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, Moss Landing, CAJanuary 2022: Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, Moss Landing, CAJanuary 2022: Fitzgerald Marine Reserve, Moss Landing, CAFebruary 2022: Kayaking in Alameda, CAFebruary 2022: Kite-flying on the beach in Alameda, CAFebruary 2022: Sunset over the Bay Bridge, Oakland, CAFebruary 2022: On Fort Funston Beach, San Francisco, CAMarch 2022: Palm tree, Maui, HIMarch 2022: Hula dancer, Maui, HIMarch 2022: St. Patrick’s Day festival, Maui, HIMarch 2022: Sunrise on the beach, Maui, HIMarch 2022: Yellow flowers, Maui, HIMarch 2022: Maluaka Beach, Maui, HIApril 2022: Guo Pei exhibit at the Legion of Honor, San FranciscoApril 2022: Guo Pei exhibit at the Legion of Honor, San FranciscoMay 2022: Sunset in Oakland, CAJune 2022: Mural in Oakland, CAJune 2022: Yuka and Felicia at Sunday Streets dance performance, The Mission District, San FranciscoJuly 2022: Chinese lucky cats in window, Outer Sunset neighborhood, San Francisco August 2022: Lock and canal on Schuylkill River, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Forbidden Drive, Wissahickon Valley, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Henry Got Crops Farm, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Art in Manayunk, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Sunset over the Schuylkill River, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Chinese Lantern Festival, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Chinese Lantern Festival, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Bridge on Manayunk Canal Towpath, PhiladelphiaAugust 2022: Barnaby Greenwald Park, Cherry Hill, NJSeptember 29022: Mountain lion at Elmwood Park Zoo, Norristown, PASeptember 2022: Kite-flying at Cape May, NJOctober 2022: Gift shop in Albany, NYOctober 2022: Nippy statue in Albany, NYOctober 2022: Window detail in Albany, NYOctober 2022: Fall in Tunkhannock, PAOctober 2022: Ruby glass in Tunkhannock, PAOctober 2022: Fall at Lake Carey, PAOctober 2022: Valley Forge National Park, PAOctober 2022: Valley Forge National Park, PAOctober 2022: Lazybrook Park, Tunkhannock, PAOctober 2022: Day of the Dead festival at Fleisher Art Memorial, PhiladelphiaOctober 2022: Day of the Dead festival at Fleisher Art Memorial, PhiladelphiaOctober 2022: Day of the Dead festival at Fleisher Art Memorial, PhiladelphiaOctober 2022: Day of the Dead festival at Fleisher Art Memorial, PhiladelphiaOctober 2022: Day of the Dead procession, PhiladelphiaNovember: Holiday display at Longwood Gardens, Kennett Square, PANovember: Hungry squirrel in Manayunk, PhiladelphiaNovember: Holiday display at Longwood Gardens, Kennett Square, PADecember 2022: Plant shop cafe in Manayunk, PhiladelphiaDecember 2022: Art installaion in Manayunk, PhiladelphiaDecember 2022: Tiles in Chestnut Hill sidewalk, Philadelphia
This holiday season, I have been thinking about giving–giving of time, love, money, and gifts. At Christmas, I like to shop for gifts for friends and relatives. It’s fun to pick things out that I think others might like. My holiday present-buying this year got me to thinking about why giving can feel good from a psychological perspective.
What does the research say? One finding is that giving stimulates the brain’s pleasure circuits, releasing the same endorphins as during exercise, eating, sex, and getting a massage! Due to some of these physical effects, giving can even be good for your health, as the endorphins related to pleasurable acts like giving can lower blood pressure and reduce stress. Giving can also strengthen our connection to others, which is good for our mental, emotional, and physical health.
Gift-giving (especially at Christmas) is not always all good, however. Sometimes, people go overboard with the quantity or value of the gifts they give, which can make others feel guilty or conflicted and can stimulate feelings of obligation or competition to give similarly extravagant gifts. When people focus on spending and shopping rather than other forms of connection or more meaningful aspects of the holidays, this can also undermine good feelings and be detrimental to mental health.
Gift-giving can also cause issues in parenting–when parents give their children too much, it may prevent kids from working or saving to buy things on their own. Overly generous giving to children can also make it harder for them to learn the value of things. Kids who are given everything they want may not appreciate things as much as those who have to budget and work for special items. And, from a social perspective, people who give their kids or other family members and loved ones extravagant presents may make others who can’t afford to spend feel lacking or even ashamed or resentful.
Like a lot of things, gift-giving needs to be in balance with other priorities and ways of showing caring to the people in our lives. What has been your favorite way to give to others?
As my readers know, I am originally from the East Coast but was living on the West Coast for the past 17 years. I returned to the East Coast this summer to be closer to family, and although it’s my home, it is taking some getting used to. It’s been a big readjustment going from California to Pennsylvania, and not only because any big change is hard–there are some real cultural differences between the West and East coasts. On top of that, there are major differences in geography and weather, but this post is more about the psychology of the people and how they differ. (Note that in this post, when I say “East Coast,” I really mean the northeast, as I feel that the southeast has a very different culture than the Mid-Atlantic and New England regions.)
Stereotypes
Most folks would agree that people on the two coasts have different general styles, personalities, and temperaments. Of course, every region, state, and city is diverse–all people in one location are not the same–but that said, there are trends. Movies, TV, and other media are full of stereotypical depictions of the laid-back California surfer or hippie versus the Type A New Yorker, patrician Main Line heir, or uptight New Englander. And just spending time in California, Oregon, and Washington State and then hanging on the East Coast (particularly the Mid-Atlantic and New England regions) will give most people a real-life experience of the differences in overall culture.
I wanted to do a little reading, though, to see if there is some science to support the stereotypes. After all, not all stereotypes are accurate. In fact, most are not completely accurate, or we wouldn’t call them stereotypes. So, I did a little Googling (looking for reliable sources, of course, not just opinion pieces) and found an interesting study.
Different Regions of the USA Have Different Personality Types
A 2013 study mapped clusters of personality traits in the United States and found that there were marked regional differences. The authors, Rentfrow and colleagues, were most interested in whether geographic personality trends were a factor in other trends, such as economics, politics, and health.
Personality Dimensions
Rentfrow et al. studied the “Big Five” dimensions of personality: extraversion, agreeableness, openness, conscientiousness, and neuroticism. The five basic personality traits is a theory developed in 1949 by D. W. Fiske and later expanded on by other researchers. When we examine these traits, we are looking at a spectrum of low to high; in other words, we can measure whether a person has a lot of the elements of the trait, just a few of them, or is somewhere in the middle.
Openness includes having a lot of imagination and insight. Highly open people are eager to learn and experience new things. They are creative and able to think more abstractly. People lower in openness are more traditional, less creative, more rigid, and less comfortable with new things and situations.
Conscientiousness is defined as being thoughtful and goal-directed, with high impulse control. People who are highly conscientious are structured and organized, good planners, and able to analyze their own behaviors and their impact. Those lower on this scale dislike structures and schedules and are more likely to procrastinate and fail to follow through on tasks.
Extraversion refers to being energized by socializing with other people and includes talkativeness, assertiveness, and high amounts of emotional expressiveness. People who are lower on the spectrum of this trait are typically called introverts.
Agreeableness includes having higher degrees of trust, altruism, kindness, and affection. Highly agreeable people tend to be more cooperative and more inclined to do things that help others. On the opposite end of this spectrum are people with a pattern of disagreeableness: manipulation, lack of caring, low empathy, and competitiveness.
Neuroticism is defined as having higher degrees of sadness, anxiety, moodiness, and emotional instability. This includes a tendency to worry, overthink, and have trouble relaxing. The opposite of neuroticism is emotional resilience and stability, with a greater ability to relax and cope with stress.
Regional Profiles
In Rentfrow and colleagues’ study, distinct psychological and personality profiles emerged that coincided with different parts of the United States. The authors defined three main “clusters”: “Friendly and Conventional,” “Relaxed and Creative,” and “Temperamental and Uninhibited.” These traits were correlated with political affiliation.
Maps of regional personality clusters. The colored areas are hotspots for different traits. From Rentfrow et al., 2013.
As you can see in the diagram, the study showed clear differences in personality types between the West Coast and the northeast. The West Coast, labeled “Relaxed and Creative,” has a psychological profile marked by low Extraversion and Agreeableness, very low Neuroticism, and very high Openness. There are disproportionate numbers of people of color, people with higher education, wealthy people, and folks who are economically innovative in this region. Acceptance of cultural diversity and alternative lifestyles is high, and the politics are more liberal.
Looking at the northeast personality cluster, “Temperamental and Uninhibited,” we find people who have traits of low Extraversion, very low Agreeableness and Conscientiousness, very high Neuroticism, and moderately high Openness. This configuration of qualities is found in reserved, aloof, impulsive, irritable, and inquisitive people–sounds a lot like Philadelphia and New York City! There are disproportionate numbers of older adults and women in this region, in addition to affluent and college-educated individuals. The politics tend to be liberal.
So, although there are some areas of overlap (people on both coasts are more reserved and open than those in the Mid-West, and people on both coasts are more creative), there are clear differences as well. For instance, West Coasters tend to be more innovative, empathetic, cooperative, and relaxed than their East Coast counterparts, who are more competitive, less empathetic, more organized and structured, and more anxious.
As this post is about differences between the East and West coasts, I’m not really too concerned with the Mid-West. But in the interest of being thorough, I will share what the study showed about region, labeled the “Friendly and Conventional” cluster. People here have moderately high levels of Extraversion, Agreeableness, and Conscientiousness, moderately low Neuroticism, and very low Openness. This group of traits is present in people who are sociable, considerate, dutiful, and traditional, with conservative politics.
Summing It Up
I found this study really interesting, as it puts more data and detail to the stereotypes. Did anything in this article surprise you?
Garter snake in Manayunk, Philadelphia, PA. Photo by Blair Davis.
I have never loved snakes. I know I’m not alone in that, as many people fear or dislike snakes. I think there is an instinctual reaction that people (and other animals) have to snakes, since some snakes are venomous–it’s a good survival tactic to be cautious around them (although most snakes are not interested in attacking or biting, they just defend themselves if cornered). I also imagine that the Christian connection between the serpent and Satan has created a lot of cultural fear around snakes.
Although I used to be afraid of them, my perspective on snakes has changed over time. I now have more curiosity than fear when I see a snake. I still feel a little discomfort around them, but I also sort of like seeing them–as long as I don’t accidentally step on or touch one! And I am not sure I’d want to hold one.
For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about snakes lately. I think one reason may be that some people I know made some social media posts of photos of snakes they saw. Or, maybe it’s just because I am still transitioning from California back to Pennsylvania and thus have been thinking of the different flora and fauna here, including some native snake species like copperheads. So, it was both a surprise and not so much of a surprise when I saw a snake a few days ago.
It was a garter snake–harmless–but still a little shocking, as I encountered it in a residential neighborhood of Philadelphia near me called Manayunk. That area is hilly and has some staircases to get from one street to another in the steeper part of the neighborhood, similar to San Francisco, and I came across the snake on one set of steps. I was startled by it, not expecting to see a snake there. I had been keeping my eyes open for snakes when I was in parks or on trails, where it seemed more likely that snakes would be found. I didn’t think I would see one just slithering about in Manayunk.
After seeing the snake and taking a couple photos of it, I told a friend. He asked me what snakes represent spiritually, so I had to look it up. According to SpiritAnimal.info, snakes represent healing and transformation, often being connected to life force and spiritual energy. It seems fitting that I’d come face to face with a harbinger of transformation and change (and hopefully positive healing and growth) as I continue to adjust to my new life back on the East Coast.
Snakes may also represent unconscious drives and primal instincts: When we see or dream about a snake, we are encouraged to look within and also to pay attention to where we get energy and how we use it. Although I didn’t dream up this particular snake, the fact that I had been “looking for” snakes and paying enough attention to find one (and in an unexpected place!) makes me think that these are messages and questions that I need to ponder right now. I’m not sure yet what they mean, but I will be reflecting on them as I continue to build my new East Coast routines, re-connect with the people I love here, and get to know myself in this new/old context.
Well, a lot has happened since my last post, which was in June. It’s August now, and I have moved from San Francisco to Philadelphia. While Philadelphia is a familiar city for me (I lived here from 1986 to 2005), I am in a neighborhood that I hadn’t known too well. I’m in Roxborough, which is on the northwestern end of the city between the Schuylkill River and the Wissahickon Valley section of Fairmount Park. Roxborough is a no-frills, somewhat family oriented area, although it is adjacent to a smaller neighborhood called Manayunk that is trendy and younger. When I lived in Philly before, I hardly ever came out this way, as I lived in various West Philly and Center City neighborhoods and didn’t own a car; Roxborough/Manayunk is far from Center City, 8 to 9 miles, and thus was not so easily accessible to me back then.
It’s been interesting getting to know this area better. Fortunately for me, I have a few good friends who live nearby, and they have been helpful in acclimating me to Roxborough. It’s not a flashy place, but it has some great things to offer and some interesting history.
Early History
Like much of Philadelphia, Roxborough is OLD. Prior to white settlers, Lenape Indians lived in the area, which was called Manatawna. They created a trail called Manatawny that later became Ridge Road (now Ridge Avenue). By the late 1600s, the area was considered by European settlers to be a prime location for farming and milling. The early population of Roxborough was mostly Germans, who would eventually migrate to “Dutch Country” in southeastern/south-central Pennsylvania, and also English and Scottish people.
In 1690, the area was renamed Roxburgh, likely after Roxburghshire, Scotland, the ancestral home of Andrew Robeson, one of the earliest settlers of the area. By 1707, the name had been changed to Roxborough Township. Before the arrival of railroads, Ridge Avenue, still a main thoroughfare through Roxborough, was a key travel and commerce route, running from Center City Philadelphia, through Roxborough, and beyond.
Levering School, built in 1857. Photo taken in late 1800s-early 1900s.
In the fall and winter of 1777, Roxborough, among other Philadelphia neighborhoods, was the site of bitter battles in the American Revolution. Following the war, Roxborough began to prosper again. Local waterways powered saw mills, paper mills, cotton mills, and more. A dam, canal, and locks were built on the Schuylkill River at Manayunk (a sub-neighborhood of Roxborough that was then called Flat Rock) in the early 1800s, which led to more mills and factories sprouting up.
Stone house at the corner of Henry Avenue and Wises Mill Road, taken in the late 1940s but probably built in the 1800s.
Later History
Manayunk was declared a borough within Roxborough township in 1840 and then declared a separate town in 1847. In 1854, the townships and boroughs in the region became part of the City of Philadelphia. By the mid to late 1800s, farmlands were being converted into residential streets with pretty Victorian homes. The community grew and saw the construction of a hospital in 1890.
Since the 1950s, most of Philadelphia’s major television and FM radio stations have located their transmission towers in Roxborough because of its hilly terrain and high elevation. At night, you can see the towers (near where I live) lit up with red lights. Like many urban neighborhoods, Roxborough declined in the mid to late 1900s but underwent some rebirth in the 1990s and early 2000s. Today, it has a lot of residential areas, some restaurants and other businesses centered on Ridge Avenue, and access to the trendier Main Street of Manayunk and trails and parks to the west (along the Schuylkill River) and east (in the Wissahickon Valley).
Dupont Street, a typical block in residential Roxborough.Businesses on Ridge Avenue.
