We were all chatting in the line to get passport photos. “Where are you traveling?” the nice lady behind me asked.
“North Dakota,” I said brightly, and then everyone got sort of quiet.
But indeed to North Dakota I did go. That’s where my cousin Don lives, and we were having a cousin reunion, with four out of five first cousins on my mother’s side in attendance. The last time we were all together was almost sixty years ago at our grandma’s farm in Balfour, population not-so-many. Everyone in my family is nice as pie because that’s what you get in North Dakota. It’s almost as if my mom’s side never met anyone rotten in their lives, so they assumed the best of everyone, and you know? People respond to that. Don is probably the nicest of us cousins, because he didn’t stray far from the Grandmothership, whereas the rest of us got contaminated to some extent by living elsewhere. Don might be the nicest man in North Dakota, now that our Uncle Clifford is gone.
Minot, I’m sure you’ve heard, is where the annual Norsk Hostfest is held, the largest Scandinavian festival in the country. It’s popular. You have never seen so many gosh-darn nice white people in one place in all your life. In fact Dave and I have a friend here in Portland named Bruce Johnson who is just about the nicest white guy we know, and by golly if he wasn’t there at the Hostfest too. And you will never see so many people in one place who are not staring at their cell phones. No sir: these were people comfortable with eye contact. And, to be fair, mostly on the riper side of middle age.
There was music, and food, and arts, and crafts, but what really perked my blood was the little group of authentic Vikings they had imported from the eleventh century. They were outstanding. For the first time in my life I felt as though my maligned fashioned sense has been validated, with its emphasis on pajamas and maybe a kicky T-strap shoe in soft leather. The men wore simple tunics over baggy pants, although there were a few T-shirts in evidence–I know!–and if authentic Vikings can show up in T-shirts a thousand years before they were invented, is it so hard to imagine they also discovered America way before anyone else except the people who already lived here? I submit it is not.
Most of them had holes in their clothes, but those were authentic, too, and come from their hobby of slicing each other up with massive axes and spears and what have you. You’ll find none of your dainty arrows and epees here. We were treated to a demonstration of Viking fighting techniques which left no doubt that the standard outcome was death and gore and finality all around: clobber and cleave all the way to perdition. Consequently, all of the violence has long since been carved out of the gene pool and only the inoffensive and amiable remain, some of us still wearing our heritage pajamas.
The Vikings who survived being cleft down the middle, or who were pre-cloven, also displayed their sunny side with games of all sorts. All right, there was only one sort, with several versions. They involved one form or another of jumping on each other really hard, and then trying to pull each other apart. These games were done in teams, except for that one wherein two men sat cross-legged on a bench and took turns slapping each other into kingdom come, or off the bench, whichever came first. Awesome. Winners of any given game celebrated with a mighty shout, a vestige of which remains to this day in modern Norwegians on bingo night.
Cousin Don also treated us to a splendid tour of northern North Dakota, and anyone who dismisses the landscape as flat and dull needs to have his soul taken in for repairs. Here is a banquet of rolling green and gold, slathered in pelicans and cranes. Even at night, sometimes God throws northern lights over the place just to show his approval. Of course we also made sure to visit Goodness Central, the Home of Grandma, and found it still faithful to our memory. Except that the current owners–no doubt slaves to comfort–replaced the old farmhouse with a tight and tidy ranch, displaying a cruel indifference to our nostalgia for that drafty old sucker with the colossal coal furnace we knew and loved but didn’t have to live in.
Then it was on to the stately and provincial International Peace Garden, where my shiny new passport allowed me to poke a toe into Manitoba. I lingered, hoping my Canadian friends would sense my presence, but having an attractive and sensible Prime Minister has made them complacent. Ah well: farewell Canada! See you in November, maybe!
Next up: Norwegian Cuisine. Ooh ja.
They'd better start on that wall.
We have but we want you to pay for it.
The grandmothership….. I love it!
I love HER.
We lived near Minot a few years ago… volunteering at J Clark Salyer NWR….. was introduced to lutefisk. I will add that we never did become close friends….
True confessions: I've never tried it because I don't like it.
"Nice as pie. . . It's almost as if my mom's side never met anyone rotten in their lives, so they assumed the best of everyone."
You are very entertaining (and I love pie).
And now I love you, Drew.
Minot is a cultural Mecca once a year. The rest of the year no one knows where it is including North Dakotans. When you cross the border into Manitoba. you'll find that Canadians are almost just like us. They are a little more frugal and they have a different vocabulary, but in general they are a friendly lot.
I didn't meet an actual one. They're still mythical. But if I stay very very quiet, I think one of them might come out. That's the plan. Now to find some Canada Kibble to keep in my pocket. Pocket poutine?
Actually, poutine repels me. Now, a really good chocolate …
I LOVE the way you write (& reply to comments)!!
Now I'm feeling pressure. 🙂
Lovely through and through.
I took the Ancestry test to find out who I am, or whom I am from? Anyway, I was surprised to learn that I am 27% Scandinavian. No mention of Viking heritages though, but that does seem something to wish for.
Oh, fervently. For the clothes alone.
I've never heard any mention of Norwegians in my line;Danes and Swedes seem to account for my blonde goddessness.Pies feature,too.
A lot of pies do have some color in them, so that makes them different from Norwegian food.
I must admit from the photos everyone there looks truly huggable…when they are not slapping or pulling each other apart. Scandanavians are outgoing, eh? Guess you never heard the joke about the Fins. You can tell when they like you in a conversation when they quit staring at their shoes and stare at yours.
But what ARE the Finns, anyway? Scandinavian? Russian? Just really cold?
Good god! Call them Russian and you'll be condemned to an Afterlife of the Karelia Suite! I yell "Russki!" at everyone who looks like a Finn.Sadly, I'm still playing my old Cd of the music
Finns are from Finland and isn't that whole upper north region called Scandinavia anyway?
Yahbut…are they really the same?
Well I can't speak for all Finns, but the Finnish man who worked in our section at the shoe factory, did have kind of an Eskimo look to his face with slitty eyes but not Asian eyes.
Oh my god that is awesome. I'll have to tell my quarter-Finnish husband that one.
Can you tell which quarter?
Lower left. Duh.
[just visualized a little too much]
Big sigh. I miss North Dakota, and I miss you. Hope to see some of that landscape in your blog. Love you Murre.
Well crumb–I didn't really put in any of my North Dakota pics, but I sure liked it. I put in a request to cousin Don for some strutting grice even though I knew they probably weren't inflating themselves right now, and he said "we'd have to go to Bowman…" wherever that is…and maybe he knows, because he's a ground-bird hunter. (Sorry.)
I have relatives who live in Minot. They tell me that they have 9 months of snow! Also tell me there is not much there.
Well, I think maybe some Minot folks don't really explore what's there. To wit: the coulee right behind my cousin's house was FABULOUS and yet he rarely (if ever) walks in it. I loved it. Loved it.
So is that you, the littlest one in the first photo? I'd love to watch the slapping contest although I wouldn't want to do it myself … and those carved seats are awesome. As to your toe in Canada, I did notice an uptick in merriment up here recently; was that you?
Yeah, I'm the baby! And that was TOTALLY me. I plan to take credit for anything good you noticed.
what a wonderful time you've had! I'm looking forward to the Norwegian cuisine, ja!
Oh dear, really?
I like reading about food 🙂
I am headed soon to the Dakota of the South. Its my true home of my youth. I have managed to make it there slightly more than once a year for the last four years. The people are nice there, too.
They'd have to be. It would all rub off from up north. You'd have to get to the governor's office in Texas before it would be entirely gone.
Never been to ND. You make it sound like Lake Wobegon. I liked the little foray into the Vikings, too.
Well…Lake Wobegon is not that far away.
Huh. Well, I understand the state is similar to our eastern portion, but the only time I've been there is when Cary and I drove through on our way to Chicago, 71', her to finish her masters at Northwestern, me to do my internship at Cook Co.
All I remember is days where she suggested I was drinking too much Schlitz for 1pm and hauling a Uhaul with a new Land Cruiser.
Well sure, you'd remember that.
North Dakota is mostly more vegetated than eastern Oregon. Gets more water.
Thank you, your article is very good
viagra asli usa