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
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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 knewthe names of the treeswhere I was bornwhat is thatI asked and myfather and mother did nothear they did not look where I pointedsurfaces of furniture heldthe attention of their fingersand across the room they could watchwalls they had forgottenwhere there were no questionsno voices and no shadeWere there treeswhere they were childrenwhere I had not beenI askedwere there trees in those placeswhere my father and my mother were bornand in that time didmy father and my mother see themand when they said yes it meantthey did not rememberWhat were they I asked what were theybut both my father and my mothersaid they never knew
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