But now we are all strangers and pilgrims, travelers and Sojourners.

This is the inscription on the plaque which marks the square where "the Pilgrims" (of American Thanksgiving  fame) lived for the twelve years immediately preceding their journey to the New World aboard the Mayflower. Although these Pilgrims were of English descent, several of the younger ones were born here in the Netherlands. Several of the couples were married here in the Netherlands. And a number of their group died and were buried here in the Netherlands.

I didn't always realize the Dutch connections to the American Thanksgiving story -- but it's actually a pretty significant part of the story. After experiencing religious persecution in England for their anti-Anglican, Reformed theology, a community of these "Separatists" decided to move to Leiden, in the Netherlands, under the leadership of their pastor John Robinson. There they were granted religious freedom and opportunities for economic stability (through the booming textile industry of the period), and eventually they established a commune of sorts on this square in the shadow of the big Pieterskerk (Peter's Church) in central Leiden. For twelve years, they lived and worked in the Netherlands -- until they started to fear that their children were getting too assimilated into the surrounding culture, and they ultimately decided to send all of the able-bodied members of their community on to North America, where greater freedom, greater isolation, and greater economic opportunities awaited them.

But the Pilgrims certainly left their mark on Leiden. And Leiden -- it would seem -- left its mark on the Pilgrims, too. Most intriguingly, historical records indicate that the Pilgrims greatly admired the Leidenaars annual religious / civic holiday, along with its traditional feasting, designed specifically for the purpose of thanking God for His deliverance of the Dutch against their Spanish oppressors in the Eighty Years War (celebrated every year in October). Some historians have even theorized that the early Thanksgiving feasts in New England may have been inspired by the Pilgrims' time in Leiden! I honestly don't know how much stock to put in these theories, but they are certainly interesting to consider...

In any event, our family was privileged to visit Leiden on Thanksgiving Day this year (the kids were even granted the day off from school!). We went together with several American friends from Amsterdam, and we all joined in a larger celebration put on by the American Embassy in the Netherlands. The service itself was all right (a kind of typical patriotic / pseudo-religious, ecumenical church service)... But more than anything it was just cool to be in that place, together with a group of other "strangers and pilgrims, travelers and sojourners."

It's ironic that we now live here in the Netherlands, having moved from North America seeking to establish a spiritual community: kind of Pilgrims in reverse (although our goal has always been to engage with the surrounding culture, not to separate from it). But to say the least, we felt a special appreciation this year for the connection between the Netherlands and the United States of America, on Thanksgiving Day.

And after our visit to the Pieterskerk, of course we had to go out to lunch. We had Dutch pancakes instead of a big turkey dinner. But that was OK. When you're strangers and pilgrims, travelers and sojourners, improvisation is always a part of the story. :-)

Don't think too much about your answer.

Just go with your gut feeling: What name would you give to the color above? Or to the grid of variations in color here below?

To me, the color swatches above seem yellow. But that might just be me. Or it might just be Americans. I'd be especially curious to know what Dutch people think of these colors -- if they would also naturally trend towards "yellow" or possibly more towards "orange."

All of these colors are lifted from photographs of traffic lights, both in the United States and in the Netherlands. I used Photoshop to select a sampling of color from the brightest, most intense part of photograph featuring a traffic light with the middle segment of the signal illuminated, and that's how I generated the swatches above.

So the reason I ask the question about identifying this color is that I'm intrigued by the cultural differences on this particular point. Americans talk about this part of the traffic light as being the "yellow light," whereas Dutch people (or my American children, raised here in the Netherlands) talk about the same segment as being the "orange light" (oranje licht).

Honestly, I don't think of it as a question of accuracy but rather of perception. I just think it's interesting that the two cultures see it two different ways. It's true for a lot of different elements of culture, not just the color of traffic lights.

So what color would you say it is? Yellow? Orange? Or something else entirely?

I've heard that the American media have been overloaded with retrospectives all week, observing the ten-year anniversary of the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington. Here in the Netherlands, however, we're just starting to tune into the collective remembrances.

I'm finding it really interesting to hear the international perspectives on the the September 11th attacks. On television this evening, they're showing clips of Dutch people sharing the memories of where they were and what they were doing at the moment that the news from New York started filtering in. One Dutch man tells that he was just getting ready to start a meeting at which he would be serving as chairman, when he heard the news of the attacks on New York; so he started off their meeting by sharing the news item with the rest of his colleagues, many of whom immediately burst into tears. Another Dutch woman says that she learned about the attacks through a panicked phone call from her hysterical mother.

Of course, everyone has their distinct memories. Still I was surprised to hear the level of emotional impact that September 11th had on Europeans, not just Americans. I honestly don't know if there'd be the same level of sympathy today, if there were similar attacks on the USA. Over the last ten years, the Americans have come to be seen as more of a bully than as a victim (primarily because of the American response to the attacks, eventually leading to the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq). But back then, Europeans were still willing to cry and become hysterical for American tragedy. And this weekend, it seems, perhaps we're all willing to re-live the moment again.

There are a lot of similarities between this place where I've settled, here on the rim of the North Sea, and the place where I grew up, in the American Midwest. The two regions have a similar geography, similar climate, and similar levels of development. Yet after spending several years in both places, it seems to me that the connection goes even deeper than that.

When our family was recently traveling through the northern part of France, I was freshly struck by the parallels between these two disparate parts of the world. There we were in France -- distinctly French and foreign in its language, cuisine, culture, and architecture -- yet somehow, it was strangely familiar. The air was cool, with rapidly shifting cloud cover. The landscape was green with gently rolling hills, cattle grazing in wide pastures. The people were modest and unimposing (very different from the flashy, fancy, "Frenchy" stereotype I so quickly conjure up when I think of French people). The familiarity of northern France was striking. As I was driving along between Honfleur and Trouville, the association suddenly clicked for me: It was like driving through rural Wisconsin! That's exactly what it felt like for me. Coincidentally, I was listening to a recorded broadcast of the Prairie Home Companion, where Garrison Keillor was reporting the "News from Lake Wobegon." It just so happened that "this week's news" was about how one of the women from this small Minnesota town had decided to organize a group trip to Norway -- and then only later had second thoughts, wondering:

"Why in the world? Why did I ever suggest Norway? I mean, all you find there are people who are a lot like people here -- except even more so... Why go to a country where I'm just going to see a lot of large, white, phlegmatic people eating herring?"

Of course, Keillor's intent is comedic -- so he's exaggerating for the sake of effect. But actually only a little bit. That "phlegmatic" label, while aesthetically unpleasant, really does fit beautifully with both Europeans from the North Sea Rim and Americans from the Midwest: "Guardians who pride themselves on being dependable, helpful, and hard-working" (definition from PTypes.com). When you really stop to think about it, the motivations and attributes of people from these two far-flung parts of the world are remarkably congruous. They think alike and act alike. Emotional sobriety and down-to-earthness are highly prized. There's not a lot of glitz and glamor -- no glory-hounds. They're just hard-working, humble people who work well in teams.

Naturally, there is a wide variety of individuals, as well as a wide variety of people groups throughout both the North Sea region and the Midwest region. Even so, the generalizations generally seem to hold water.

Much of the general similiarities between the North Sea Rim and the American Midwest may have to do with migration patterns: Swedes and Norwegians in Minnesota and the Dakotas, Dutch people in Michigan, Germans in Wisconsin, Indiana, and Ohio, English and Scottish people throughout the region. This doubtless accounts for the similarities in surnames and physical attributes. But history has also bonded these two regions in distinct ways: roots in agriculture, yet relatively high population densities which carved the way for industrialization and prosperity through the last couple of centuries. Now, both regions are grappling with post-industrialization and shifting migration patterns (this time, with winds blowing up from the Middle East and Mexico). The social conscious of these reasons is being pricked in new ways -- multi-culturalism, environmentalism, social activism -- and not surprisingly, the people from these two regions are showing themselves to be clear-headed, capable, equitable (and often even exceptionally generous) players in promoting a better world for everybody.

I don't know. I'm not a professional anthropologist, by any stretch of the imagination; still, I find it gratifying to discover, and explore, and live in this resonance between my two "home" regions. I'm proud of being both a Midwesterner and a part of the North Sea Rim. These are "my people," and I revel in the connection. But for the most part, I'm going to keep my pride and revelry quiet, subtle, inward... because, well, that's why my people do.

I have a fascination with baseball caps that's similar to the stereotypical woman's fascination for shoes. I already have plenty of baseball caps, but if I see one that I really like I feel a strong urge to get it. I'm able to keep my impulses in check for the most part. However, when I was recently back in Minnesota for my grandmother's funeral, I bought a red Twins cap with the old TC (Twin Cities) logo... And I have to say, now that I'm back in Amsterdam and wearing it from day to day, I'm really liking it.

I think real Major League Baseball caps are the ultimate in cap design. The Twins' TC logo is a significant improvement (and also more original) than their "Underlined M" caps of the late 1980s and 1990s. But I have to admit that I'm partial to this cap's design because I'm also partial to the team it represents.

I was considering this recently, trying to figure out what the best Major League Baseball caps are -- and I think  that my primary criteria for consideration are color, cleanness, and timelessness (i.e. a cap gets major design points if it's stuck with the same basic design for like 100 years). So with that in mind, here are some of the top candidates (outside of my new Twins cap), listed in no particular order:

These picks have absolutely nothing to do with the teams that wear these caps (for instance, I really don't like the Yankees much at all, as a team, and I would never want to wear one of their caps personally -- but I can't deny the fact that their caps are some of the best). Purely based on cap design, I'd have to say that the red St. Louis Cardinals cap (bottom left) is the best. But what do you think? How do these caps rate, in your opinion? Or which other caps do you believe might merit consideration? Does anyone else notice this sort of thing, or am I just weird in this way?