Another Trip To The Home World Under My Belt

Be it ever so humble, it's good to be home

(A slice of Minnesota: credit- the late Dick Guindon)

After a very long day yesterday, I’m back home, and it feels good to have slept in my own bed. Today I’m back at work and back to something resembling normalcy. I haven’t been gone long enough to forget anything, but it still feels odd. After spending a week reprising Driving Miss Daisy and enjoying unseasonably warm and sunny weather, I’m back to rainy, cool, and dreary.

I do enjoy going back to Minnesota. Perhaps part of it is knowing it’s a short-term stay and not during the winter. I’m never back there long enough to re-acclimate myself, but it’s always long enough to remind myself that I can’t go back home again.

Things look the same, I know my way around, but it all feels different, which shouldn’t be surprising. I left 40 years ago, I’ve returned intermittently, and much has changed. Again, that shouldn’t come as a surprise, and yet it always does.

Whenever I travel north to my hometown of Walker, it looks exactly the same yet completely different. The bones feel the same, but there’s a stoplight on Main Street now, and the houses all have addresses, which wasn’t the case when I lived there. Walker’s about the same size- slightly under 1000 people- but some significant differences exist. It’s also distinctly Trumpy, which has soured me on my hometown. I may visit again at some point if I have the opportunity, but I’m profoundly ambivalent about it.

In general, I do love the people of Minnesota. There’s a term used to describe their demeanor that I’ve heard since I was a kid- “Minnesota Nice.” And there’s something to that. People in Minnesota are friendly in a way I’ve not experienced anywhere else. It’s not easy to explain, but if you’ve seen the movie Fargo, you have some idea of what I’m referring to. The slow, laconic, drawn-out sentences, the long, rounded vowels that seem to hang in the air forever, and the lack of judgment are all part of what makes “Minnesota Nice.”

Every time I return to the home world and experience “Minnesota Nice,” it gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling. That’s when I feel at home again.

This was a “work” trip to take care of Mom, so no Vikings game, no catching up with friends, and no fun side trips. I wanted to focus on Mom, and it turns out that she’s in a better place than I thought, so perhaps I could’ve had some fun, but I was content to leave that for the next trip.

It’s good to know she’s in a good place and in good health. For an 81-year-old woman, she’s holding up pretty well, all things considered. I’m grateful for my brother and sister-in-law who are just a few doors away and who keep a close eye on her. Mom’s not a recluse or a shut-in, but she doesn’t move well or quickly and so doesn’t get out much. Once winter sets in, going out will become more difficult for her, so having people so close to look in on her is crucial.

Sometimes I feel guilty for being so far away, but there’s nothing I can or am willing to do about that. My life is in Portland and that’s not going to change. So I’ll continue to visit when I can, hopefully every 2-4 months depending on how Mom’s doing. I hope that will be enough, but for now, it’s going to have to be.

I still love Minnesota. My ex-wife used to tease me by saying, “You can take the boy out of Minnesota, but you can’t take the Minnesota out of the boy.” And there’s something to that. It’s where I grew up and spent the first 23 years of my life. Minnesota is where I became who I am and learned the values that define me. There’s a lot of that still inside me. You don’t just dump that once you move away.

I may have lost my Minnesota accent, but if I’m back for long enough, I start to pick it up again, and I can hear it returning. It’s gratifying to learn that I can still speak the language, even though I spend so little time back in the home world anymore.

One thing I did learn over the past week is that the political ads are every bit as bad- and perhaps even worse- than they are in Portland. The ads I’ve seen in Portland stop just short of referring to a candidate’s opponents as “the spawn of Satan” or “Satan Incarnate.” In Minnesota, they cross that barrier, though they don’t explicitly refer to their opponents as “Satan.” They don’t need to; they make their point eloquently.

The words “dangerous,” “irresponsible,” “dishonest,” and several other pejoratives are casually tossed around as if they’re nearing their expiration date (I suppose they are). From the sound of some of the ads, you could be forgiven for thinking that some of these folks ARE Satan Incarnate.

So much for “Minnesota Nice.”

Of course, one of the nice things about being home is that I don’t have to listen to Mom bitch about Donald Trump anymore. That’s still one of her favorite pastimes, and sometimes I’m not sure she fully understands that Orange Jesus is no longer President.

Then again, at least I know where I get my interest in politics from, eh?