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We are the slow family. We do everything slowly in slow motion. We walk slow we move slow; sometimes I feel like my family is perpetually stuck in molasses. Sleeping on a decision of course — is there any other way? My kids (and even me) getting out of bed? It’s like watching a pot boil or a sloth making its way down a tree trunk.

This is most apparent when we’re on vacation. Sometimes I look longingly at other families up at the crack of dawn sandwiches in neat packages walking purposefully to their cars to get the most out of their vacation. We used to plan our days with high hopes of visiting four or five tourist attractions. We inevitably get to one. After 20 years my husband and I have become realistic. We now plan only one tourist spot and hope we actually make it.

It doesn’t help that we live in theMidwest where people pride themselves on their leisurely lifestyle. It’s like everyone here is playing “Mother May I” and the leader asked them to move in slow motion. If the Midwestern region had a mascot hands down it would be the turtle.

I haven’t always been like this. I’m from New Yorkwhere every minute is squeezed dry. The birthplace of power walking aggressive driving the 18-minute Megillah reading (no graggers allowed) fast food and speedy service. The land of the earliest possible k’vasikin minyanim daf yomi shiurim on commuter trains and a built-in aron kodesh on buses for davening on your way to work. It’s where Type A personalities are honed cultivated and revered. The phrase “running around like a chicken without a head”? Definitely has its origin inNew York.

When I first moved here I’d rush into a store with five minutes to spare expecting to shop and pay in the allotted time frame. It was a rude awakening. First people I didn’t know came up to introduce themselves “Hi are you new to town? I haven’t seen you around.”

I’d think You’re kidding — small talk in the grocery? Honey I have places to go people to see! Being friendly? I don’t have time for that!

Then people took a long time pushing their carts choosing their tomatoes checking that all the eggs in their cartons were intact. Once you finally got to the checkout counter the friendly conversations started up all over. They’d even introduce you to the other cashiers “Marge this lady just moved fromNew York… can you imagine?”

The kicker was that if you acted like you were in a rush if you showed any sense of urgency everyone moved even slower. It was like a conspiracy. You had to act slow just to get out of the store at all.