I am no stranger to Minnesota, as we recently packed up the car and the dog, and headed to the north woods for a weekend family celebration. I spent a couple of weeks every summer of my childhood in the family station wagon, as we wound our way north on our annual vacation. My dad, who manufactured and sold grain equipment, used the opportunity to stop at farms along the way to service his clients, so much of the road trip was spent at hot, dusty silos, with my great hope that the farmer had a horse to pet, or a cool shade tree, while we waited for Dad to do his work and move on. But, our final destination was my grandparents’ house in Minnesota, where my dad grew up, in a sleepy small town with a co-op, a water tower, a movie theater, a mysteriously forbidden, dark and smoky pool hall, and a Coast-to-Coast store. And, of course, a lake.
This time, I saw my trip up north not only as a family reunion, but a prelude to our upcoming Norwegian cruise in late June, 2016. There is a surprising number of Americans with Norwegian heritage. In fact, I am one, as a descendant of my father’s ancestors from Trondheim. And, Minnesota is considered, arguably, to be the unofficial capital of Norway in the United States. More Norwegians live in Minnesota than in any other state, and the number of Americans with Norwegian heritage surpasses the native population of Norway today.
It was an unseasonably perfect spring weekend, and the drive north took us through the farmlands of Iowa, into Madison County, whose covered bridges were made famous in the romantic movie with Meryl Streep and Clint Eastwood. The countryside is Americana picturesque, with tidy clapboard farmhouses and cupola-topped barns next to black and white checkerboard rimmed silos. The fields were freshly plowed and combed with a pale green hint of young seedling rows.
We arrived in Bemidji, on the shores of its namesake lake, about one hundred miles from the Canadian border. Tourist season is still a few weeks away, so even on a Saturday, the streets were quiet. But, we had a free afternoon with our dog in tow, to explore the town, which boasts a sculpture walk with local art on every corner, small boutiques, an organic grocery where we bought native wild rice, antique shops, and stopped at a quaint cafe for a streetside alfresco lunch. The people here tend to be friendly, stoic, fierce patriots, fishermen, and hunters. It is not uncommon for anonymous strangers to pay for the meal of a veteran, come to the aid of an elderly person, or to greet passersby with a cheerful “Hello!”
As the troll legends are to Norway, Paul Bunyon and Babe the Blue Ox are to Minnesota. Originating in the oral tradition of North American loggers, Paul Bunyon is a giant lumberjack in American folklore, whose exploits revolve around the tall tales of superhuman labors, and he is customarily accompanied by Babe the Blue Ox. Their towering figures loom over Lake Bemidji and are a featured attraction of the town.
After a weekend of family, friends, and an easy rural pace, we headed back south. I visited Norway as a college student many years ago and now look forward to my upcoming return, taking with me a little bit of Minnesota.