last one: why here

[mrissa]

Those of you who follow Twins baseball probably already know that Kirby Puckett is dead tonight. Those of you who don't follow Twins baseball probably don't care beyond the general wishing all humans well, or even know who I'm talking about. He was a baseball player from my childhood. He was, in some ways, the baseball player of my childhood. And look: Puck and Kent Hrbek were playing a game. They played it as well as they could, and they took it seriously. When you were watching them, you never got the sense that they thought they were curing cancer or ending hunger in the Third World or fighting government corruption. They were having fun. They loved baseball, and they knew that doing something extremely well and having a good time with it were not trivial elements to combine. And that was a good thing for a sometimes over-serious kid to see.

The last question I have left to answer from my sleep-dep night is, "I'd like to hear about why you relate to Minnesota(ns) so well." And I think in many ways, the answer is, because I choose to, and in other ways it's not so much of a choice.

I was raised by wild Minnesotans -- exiles, and exiles are often more attached to the place they feel exiled from than the people who still live there. Minnesota people and events were the cast and calendar of my childhood. So one of the things it means to me, living in Minnesota, is that when public figures as different as Paul Wellstone and Kirby Puckett die, I can be around other people who know what it means. I'm not saying that it means the same thing. Not at all. Their work, their personalities, their personal lives -- very different men. But I was glad beyond measure to be home in Minnesota for a visit when Wellstone died, and I'm glad to be living here today. And every time I considered this question over the last two months, I had different reasons, a different focus, something else that makes it special for me, something else that makes it worth the time. Whether I was worried for dear ones or mourning a stranger, humming through a quietly perfect day or bouncing off shiny delights, I could always come up with different reasons to be glad to be doing it here. That seems like it should count for something.

I choose to take delight in the vowels, in the weather, in the communicative silences. I choose to blow a kiss to the skyline whenever I cross the Mendota Bridge. I choose to have picnics at the Falls and walk around the lakes and keep track of what's thawed and what's still frozen over. It is an utter pain in the ass to have to throw salt on the driveway at 5:15 a.m. on my way to taking markgritter to the airport. But it is my own utter pain in the ass. There are interesting artists of various kinds elsewhere, but more of the ones here feel like mine. There are festivals and events elsewhere, but these hit the rhythms of my blood. The words sound right in my ears, Aquatennial and Fest, Holidazzle and Winter Carnival. The air smells right, shifting temperatures off standing water. It hits my blood and my bones, and here I stay.

Not every Minnesotan shares every experience of Minnesotanness, and that's okay. Tonight, not every "real" Minnesotan is thinking of how Kirby Puckett used to bob around like a little ballooon on the field, or how funny his legs looked motoring around the bases when he pulled it out for them in the 9th again; not every "real" Minnesotan's childhood prayers featured Kirby. Not every "real" Minnesotan had childhood prayers at all. Not every "real" Minnesotan eats lefse or herring or wears Dale of Norway sweaters while shopping at malls that all end in -dale. Not every "real" Minnesotan has had all-you-can-drink milk for cheap at the State Fair. Not every "real" Minnesotan has spent alternate weekends at Fest dusty and hot, then muddy and freezing. But these things all go into a pool, and we draw out what we can, and put in what we can. And some of us look down when we dip into it and say, look how clear the water is, look how cool, look how sweet. "But other lands have sunlight, too, and clover," as the song says; other places have their own pools. But this one's mine, and I have the right rings to get in, but I'm not sure I have the ones to come back, and I'm not sure I want them.

Comments

[laurel]

Yeah. Well said.

[juliansinger.livejournal.com]

Oh, well, damn.

Puckett just /enjoyed the hell out of himself/, which was why I liked him. I hadn't heard he'd died; I knew about the stroke, though.

(I'm a Red Sox fan, but y'know, some players transcend team.)

[dreadmouse.livejournal.com]

Absolutely. When Kirby was on the field, he was having fun. You could see it; the man took joy in the game. I'm not much of a baseball fan, but I had a soft spot in my heart for Kirby Puckett.

[juliansinger.livejournal.com]

Oh, and aside from Puckett, I also wanted to tell you that I've never wanted to live in Minnesota, but this was a really wonderful and evocative couple of paragraphs on why you, in particular, love it. Thank you.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I labor under no delusions that it's everybody's home or should be. But it's mine.

So many yesses

[markiv1111.livejournal.com]

Thank you for writing this -- all of it. I tried really hard not to make a big deal about Puckett's death, last night, but found myself tearing up anyway. I am an adopted Minnesotan, true enough, but I am a Minnesotan and Kirby Puckett was a very visible part of our community. And, despite my not being a baseball fan, I saw him make that incredible catch -- was that the 1987 World Series? -- and walking home from Denny and Terry's, pedestrians gave me high fives and cars honked happily at me. And I knew what it was all about.

The Minnesota culture is part of my blood now. I say, "Yeah, you got that right." I am more likely to say "hot dish" than "casserole." When friends come into town, I take them to see Minnehaha Falls. And I have been to plays at the Guthrie more often than every other theater in the world put together. Yes, we are Minnesotans. I do get homesick for Vashon Island, Washington, occasionally -- but I lived just over 6 years on Vashon, and 35 of the last 38 in one Twin City or the other. It's in my blood now.

Nate B.

Re: So many yesses

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yes, birth and background don't always determine these things. One of the people who has been trying to understand why I'm so at home here is a friend who was born in Minnesota and grew up in Minnesota and has moved away and does not intend to move back. Her home is elsewhere now, regardless of her early years, and I'm glad she's found a good place, even though I wish everyone I love lived here.

For me the difference between missing here and missing other places is that I miss other places in bits and pieces, and I miss here all in a big lump, the whole shebang. I don't think "Miss the Mississippi and You, Dear" was written for the river this far north -- "muddy" is not the adjective I'd choose up here -- but we used to sing it when we lived in California anyway.

[sylvery.livejournal.com]

So lovely. Beautifully said. I'm not a writer, so I couldn't write that about my heart-home, Idaho--but you wrote it.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Thanks. Glad you liked it.