Home territory?

As I’ve pondered my experiences in New England and Minnesota, trying to get a handle on why my affections for the former are so much stronger than those for the latter, it occurs to me that in Massachusetts, there was much more that I could do, close to where I lived, that I really enjoyed doing. In Minnesota, I can do many, but not all, of the same things but it involves much more travel.

One example that promptly comes to mind is that I could, with a half an hour’s drive, be wading a pond and fly-fishing for bluegills and small bass. Although I’ve spent a fair amount of time searching for a comparable location in Minnesota, there are few places (none I’ve found) to wade and fish a pond or lake. Things look much better if one has a boat or canoe, but that adds to the complexity of a quiet evening in the water.

Here’s one that I admit is unfair, but I could readily go clamming, fishing and duck hunting in several locations near my abode in Marshfield, Massachusetts. Minnesota doesn’t offer clamming, the goose hunting is better here but I have to drive most of the way across the state to enjoy that. Trout fishing back East was about as long a drive from home as it is in Minnesota. Turkey hunting when I lived back East was almost unheard of and only became viable in Minnesota several years after I arrived. These days I can hunt turkeys and deer in my back yard, but neither of those is a preferred outdoor activity. I’d rather be slightly more active than sitting in a blind or on a stand. Grouse hunting in both locations I’ve found to be pretty much comparable and about equally distant from home both places. 

some Minnesota trees

Photo by J. Harrington

The Better Half and I have enjoyed a number of vacations that involved some travel and trout fishing. The fishing part has been singularly unproductive. Maybe we should have hired a local guide. (Yes, I want it all: attractive surroundings and good sport.) At one point we lived somewhere that was about half an hour’s drive closer to a wonderful trout stream in Wisconsin. That was almost as good as the pond in Massachusetts, but I’m not sure about including Wisconsin in my assessment of Minnesota.

The purpose of the preceding is to compare, not criticize. I’m convinced that Minnesota, at least around the Twin Cities, has a much more active literary community than I ever found around Boston. I’m truly grateful for that. But overall, I find it much more challenging discovering a sense of place in Minnesota than I did back East. Could it be because I grew up with clam and corn chowder (chow dah) rather than tater tots? You may have noticed that I’ve not mentioned the people in either location. I have every reason to believe that New Englanders are no more or less insular than Minnesotans, but I was born there, not here, so I can’t really do that comparison. I was native to parts of New England and accepted as such. Others, not so much.

If you have any thoughts you want to share about becoming native to aa place, we’d love to see them in the comments.

Native Trees

By W. S. Merwin

Neither my father nor my mother knew

the names of the trees

where I was born

what is that

I asked and my

father and mother did not

hear they did not look where I pointed

surfaces of furniture held

the attention of their fingers

and across the room they could watch

walls they had forgotten

where there were no questions

no voices and no shade

Were there trees

where they were children

where I had not been

I asked

were there trees in those places

where my father and my mother were born

and in that time did

my father and my mother see them

and when they said yes it meant

they did not remember

What were they I asked what were they

but both my father and my mother

said they never knew

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