Embracing Minnesota

Being a native of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula who’s now living in Minnesota, I’ve made it a priority to not forget where I come from, and this is no more evident than when you step into my house. U.P. coasters, calendars, hoodies, t-shirts, drawings, and various wall decorations can be seen everywhere. There are also several pasties in my freezer – which I keep forgetting to eat – and an “I 💗 Fulton" magnet is proudly affixed to my refrigerator. And that’s just what I own at the current moment. I’m always in the market for something new, with one of my main goals in life being to obtain some sort of U.P. night light that will help me watch out for those pesky monsters that only come out after the sun goes down.

Now, while embracing one’s roots is a good thing, I recently realized that my borderline-maniacal fixation with the U.P. may have been coming at the expense of assimilating into Minnesota culture. I mean, I’ve lived here for a half-dozen years and still say “camp” instead of “cabin,” and the words “hot dish,” “budge,” and “why do our kickers always blow it in the playoffs?” have not yet spilled out of my mouth.

And it goes well beyond adopting the vernacular, too. Despite living in the Twin Cities for quite some time, I’ve experienced very few of the things one would read about if they were planning a vacation here and wanted to soak up the local culture. For example, I have no urge to ever go to the Mall of America, with the reason being that I’d never be able to find my car afterwards, which would then force me to live there until my money ran out, at which point I’d either have to get a job at one of the department stores or try to make the desperate trek back home on foot. I also haven’t been to Valley Fair, as paying good money to let some mechanical abomination fling me around until I’m sick just isn’t my idea of a good time. And then there’s the Minnesota State Fair, a.k.a. the Great Minnesota Get-Together, which I typically avoid like the plague. I guess sweating profusely in the hot sun while surrounded by thousands of other people sounds slightly stressful to me.

Now, I fully realize that my excuses for avoiding these activities do nothing more than paint me as a crotchety old man who doesn’t ever want to leave his house, but, as a very wise cartoon character once said, “I yam what I yam!” Still, upon realizing that for the last six years I’d basically been rejecting all things Minnesotan, I knew I had to do something to show my current home a little respect. I mean, it’s a great state, and living here has allowed me to experience some truly wonderful things, such as:

• Clouds of mosquitoes that could probably carry away a cow if they ever coordinated their efforts
• Flocks (or gaggles, or hordes, or murders) of aggressive geese who can occasionally cause me to fear for my life
• Hot summer days that cause the freeways to buckle, creating jumps you usually only see in the Dukes of Hazzard
• Icy winter days where the wind has more control over your car than you

Now, before any of you Minnesotans out there decide to form a mob and throw rocks at my house, I realize that living in the U.P. is no picnic, either. I mean, where else can you see snowmen during a normal winter’s day and legitimately wonder if there might be an actual person underneath?

Anyway, back to the subject at hand. What could I do to embrace Minnesota that didn’t involve going somewhere with lots of other people? Should I start saying “Uff-da,” or perhaps refer to Duck Duck Goose as “Duck Duck Gray Duck?" No, that’d be too forced.

Maybe I could fully adopt the hockey culture by busting out my skates and honestly trying to get involved in the game? Nah, it’d be too embarrassing to have 5-year-olds skating circles around me and potentially spraying me in the face with snow.

Then it hit me. I’d break my own personal rule of only owning black Adidas hats and buy one featuring the Minnesota North Stars! I mean, for a guy to violate his own hard-and-fast wardrobe rules would go a long way in showing he's truly embracing living in the area, right? Plus, I’ve always secretly wanted to own a North Stars hat, for the following reasons:

• It’s a great team name.
• The logo is simple, yet classy.
• Since they no longer, technically, exist, I could wear it and still not be accused of rooting against the Red Wings.

So the decision was made, and I soon found myself in Goldy’s Locker Room in the Ridgedale mall, surrounded by apparel for what seemed to be a thousand Minnesota sports teams. This in itself was quite overwhelming, and I kept waiting for some of my grade school friends from Michigan to materialize out of thin air and beat me up for even stepping foot into the place. Still, it was part of the deal I’d made with myself, and so I forced myself to look around until I found the hat I wanted: Black with a logo on the front. Simple and classy.

On my way home I stopped by the grocery store for the express reason of testing out my new hat. As I wandered through the aisles, I half-expected to start getting random high-fives from strangers, as if by putting on the hat I’d be instantly accepted into some secret society of Minnesota sports fans, but things went about the same as usual. However, it was a big step for me nonetheless, and I knew I’d made the right decision.

Since then I’ve only worn the hat a few times, as it’s still a little weird to be walking around supporting a non-Michigan team. However, I’m hoping to get it into a regular rotation with the Adidas hats soon, and if you ever see me out and about with it, realize that I’m doing my very best to integrate into the state I now call home. However, for the record, don’t expect me to ever wear it when I head back to the U.P. for a visit. I still think I might get beaten up.