Ow, my ears!

Friday, 4 July: Today was jam-packed with fun Fourth activities. I spent the day with my Uncle and his girlfriend, who grew up in the area and seems to pretty much know everyone. It helps that she is related to many of them, as she has 13 siblings. Dang! I had the pleasure of meeting her mother, who is a cut-up.

We started with biscuits and gravy, thanks to Jick's deliciously decadent cream cheese filled recipe. We went to the parade in Greenbush, then had a picnic in the park with some of Uncle's Girlfriend's family, who were fun and nice and introduced me to my new favorite ambrosia: cookie salad. That's right, cookie salad. It is vanilla pudding, cool whip, pineapple and mandarin oranges, topped with crumbled fudge stripes cookies. I couldn't get enough!

After the picnic, we went to the motocross races, where only one person was taken away in an ambulance. I heard later she had broken her rotater cuff. Then we went to the stock car races, where there was a spectacular mini sprint accident involving three vehicles, two of which flipped. Mini sprints are teeny tiny little ultra light cars with motorcycle engines, and they go super fast, so when they get airborne, they can really fly. Only one person was taken away in an ambulance. While there, I was spotted by a sweet woman who I had randomly met on the road to Roseau the day before. She had also been at the parade and motocross. Her fiancee races stock cars, and his grandson races motocross. The grandson had had a small crash with someone else that day, and sprained his wrist.

We stayed after the races for the fireworks, which were right out on the track area. They were super close, and huge, so that was pretty sweet.

Saturday, 5 July: Greenbush Rescue Pancake Breakfast Fundraiser, then some straight up chillin'.

Please enjoy this essay I wrote when I was about fifteen miles into Minnesota, while keeping in mind that I have met a lot of really kind, generous, helpful people since I wrote it.

Four Fingered Wave

When I left Highway 2 and headed into the far north of North Dakota, the frequency of four fingered waves increased until there was mutual waving with every single driver I passed. It made me think of a rural drive with my friend Jackie, when she invented "the wave wave," where you wave your fingers in sequence to make a little wave, like sportsfans in a stadium.

As I approached the border between North Dakota and Minnesota, I noticed the wave return frequency diminishing. On the Minnesota side, it was probably around ten percent. I had crossed the border jubilantly-- I was returning to the land of my birth! I was only a day away from seeing my Uncle, after 59 days of not seeing a single person I knew! But the lack of return waves started to get me down. "This is the stock I come from?" I thought. "These stoic hermits who pay no attention to anyone outside their own head?" Well, that wasn't exactly news to me, but a reminder of how difficult it has been to shed that frightened, inwardly-focused little girl I have been for most of my life, and how easy it would be for her to return if I didn't keep trying.

By milepost 8, I was ready to stop waving altogether. It was another reminder, a powerful one, of how much other people can affect our mood, and vice versa. It's why most of the people in a given city act differently from most of the people in another city. It's why the towns of Munich and St. Thomas, both in far northern North Dakota, both of similar size, located about 70 miles apart, can feel so different. It's why everyone in Seattle is polite, but not friendly, and everyone in Boston is friendly but blunt (Seattlites would say rude). When everyone around you behaves a certain way, it's very easy to join the crowd. When in Rome...

Of course this was all very easy to extrapolate to my differing relationships, or lack of, with various people in my life. When I reach out to someone and get rebuffed, or just plain ignored, it's way too easy for me to say "whatever. That person is not worth my time and energy." Then it becomes a vicious cycle, where I give up and don't respond to others when they reach out; where I apply the actions of a few to many, and decide no one is worth it. Then I'm left with nothing.

So, to all you infernal hermits: fine. Ignore me. Don't make eye contact. I'm going to keep waving my happy ass off.