My People, Part II

We flew into Grand Forks, ND last Thursday. The woman at the Avis counter said, "Nice Norwegian sweater, ya." I knew I was in my ancestral home. The sweater, a family heirloom, was worn as camouflage. It was working.

We walked outside and a couple of young men drove up in our rental car. I asked, "Do you want to check our rental agreement and ID?" "Naw," they said. There were no metal stakes ready to impale us. We had landed in a twilight zone.

As we drove east, the landscape is flat as a Swedish pancake. We headed out into northwest Minnesota into the area homesteaded by our grandfather. The plan was to visit the family homestead for the first time and meet as many relatives as possible. We really had no idea what to expect.

Our family lived just north of a couple of small towns, Trail and Gully. They each have a population of 50 or 60 people. Once vital, like so many small towns in the region they have all dried up. There is usually one tavern. Maybe a restaurant. Maybe a gas station. Plenty of empty buildings.

Thursday night we ate dinner in Fosston. I had Walleye, as in Walleye Pike, a common lake fish of the region. In my big city, nuanced way, I asked the waitress where the Walleye came from. In Seattle we always want to know if the fish we are about to eat is "line caught by a sensitive fisherman." The waitress, responding to my questions said, "The Walleye comes from the company that sells us the fish." Well, alrighty then. Silly me.

Saturday night we went to the Walleye Dinner at the American Legion hall in Gonvick, population 262. It was a packed house. Walleye filet, baked potato, cold slaw and a roll for $10.

Times are tough. They have been tough forever. No jobs for young people, who all leave town. Lots of alcoholism. The economic downturn won't effect Trail, Gully or Gonvick. People were heading out to get a deer. The season opened on Saturday. Everyone was wearing the real camouflage. I had been wearing my favorite baseball cap from my daughter's Pittsburgh Ballet Theater. In Gully I felt a bit like a fruitcake wearing a ballet cap. Fortunately, our cousin runs the Gully Farmer's Co-op and graciously gave my brother and I camouflage co-op baseball caps. My brother calls them "gimme hats," as in standing at the cash register and saying, "Gimme one of those." They don't have "gimme hats" on Wall Street.

I did hear a couple of remarks about the bailout. People thought it was a bad idea. But then, they thought it was a good idea to get farm price supports and get paid to keep their land in the CRP (the conservation program where you are paid to not grow crops). Funny how that works. We are inhibited by our distaste for socialism except when it puts money in our pockets. I have an entire side of my family that holds to that oxymoronic position.

On the way home, we passed through the Minneapolis Airport. We asked the sweet 80 year old woman at the Information booth how to find the Larry Craig bathroom. She said, "That is disgusting." We chatted a bit and she volunteered that she had just voted absentee and mailed her ballot the day before. She went on to say, "I voted for Al Franken and Obama. You don't think I am stupid do you?" She was wonderful.

We spent three days off the grid. No cell service at all. It is another world. People are good and decent and hard working. The cratering of Lehman or Morgan Stanley will not, in any way that I could see, change their reality.