by Howard Mohr
* * *
You are happy for once. You are in your car headed for the airport. In the top pocket of your short-sleeved shirt is a round-trip ticket to the Bahamas. You have two weeks. As you turn left at Ninth, a man runs out in front of you, waving his arms. He is wearing only Minnesota Vikings boxer shorts. He appears to be about thirty years old, he is painted purple from the waist up, and red from the waist down. His nose is green. He needs some help, he says. You park the car and go into the house he says is his and you find three people there. One is the wife of the painted man, one is the wife’s brother, and the third is the brother’s step-uncle. Each is carrying a paintbrush and a can of paint. They are laughing a lot. They say they are interior decorators. What color is the paint on their brushes? Where did you lose the ticket?
* * *
You are a normal, law-abiding consumer looking for a way to fit good food into your shrinking budget. When the government began requiring expiration dates on foods, you were pleased. Now you could buy something with the confidence that it would last until you got it home. Grocery store owners clearly like the old days better, when the customer took undated food home, though it had an odd taste, but ate it anyway, not knowing it had become the leading character in a science-fiction movie. You have been buying dated food for a few years, wondering if you hadn’t died and gone to grocery heaven, when you notice a new problem—besides the fact that some items have as many as four price stickers, one on top of the other. The problem is twofold, as it often is in sermons. In the first place, food seems to be getting fresher and fresher. That is, the date on the package is further and further into the future, which is where you would like to be eventually. However, two or three weeks before the expiration date, the package swells up and emits strange gases, like your uncle in Oregon. In the second place, you might buy, say, a tub of cottage cheese on January 9 that has an expiration date of June 12. You take it home, lose sight of it in the refrigerator behind the economy-size jar of pickled-herring chunks and rediscover it on June 7. You open the carton and find the cottage cheese edible, in a manner of speaking. Have the expiration dates on groceries been made longer so that people will buy the food when it is past being edible and eat it anyway, like in the old days? Or are they putting something in it to make it last longer? Will this make you last longer?
Though, Groves, Seniors, and Poker Parties
THOUGH
In the grammar business, of course, we’ve all been told that it’s bad to have dangling participles, and I believe it, though I have never understood exactly what they are. But I do know that in the Minnesota language we have a lot of things that dangle. To me, danglers are words and phrases that are glued on to sentences—they may seem to have no more purpose or meaning than a floating cylindrical article in a bucket of milk, but they are part of what distinguishes a native speaker from an outsider. Though is in that category.
—“Did you see her new husband?”
—“He’s a good guy, though.”
In that exchange, for my money, though dangles. The information that would explain the meaning of though is missing—and I hate to tell you this, but there’s a good chance you won’t ever get that missing information, not in this go-around. Those two sentences could be the extent of the conversation about the new husband. The subject would be changed. He’s history.
Though is also used in Minnesota to reverse the flow of a longer statement.
—“Those paintings by that guy in town. Ducks, lakes, cabins, sunsets, trees. He’s not too bad at it. They say he sells everything he paints. They call him the Picasso of the county, you know. He’s better than some of those guys that slap the paint on in streaks and then give it a title like ‘Confusion I.’ This guy’s interested in real stuff. I’ve never seen any of his paintings, though.”
Here’s another example—it’s the conversational equivalent of being nailed from your blind side when you hear it.
—“Yes, Professor Tidly, I’m doing my essay on capital punishment, the pros and cons of it, and I’m moving along. I looked up the word punishment in Webster’s and started there. The encyclopedia would be a good source, too. Plus I’m gonna interview the sheriff and ask my dad and mom about it. I haven’t actually starting writing things down on paper, though.”
Here’s another example:
—“Barney, what a wonderful date. Cheeseburgers. Movie. Riding around in the car. Taking off fast at stoplights. Talking about your plans for the future. I don’t want to see you again, though.”
Practice with the following one-liners. Though should not be pronounced clearly—make it almost “dough,” and clip it off.
—“It’s hard to row with one oar missing, though.”
—“The firetruck got there in time, though.”
—“How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm once they’ve seen St. Paul, though?”
—“Somebody told me they saw him out in the yard in his underwear with a rifle, though.”
—“A guy don’t want to move too much in this humidity, though.”
—“That sermon had some good points, though.”
—“It sounded familiar, though.”
—“I just don’t know, though.”
Further Practice
Try alternately tacking though and you bet on to the end of as many of your Minnesota sentences as possible. Keep doing it until it sounds natural to you. Then try using both at once.
—“I’ve lived around here all my life, though, you bet.”
WHERE TO GO IN MINNESOTA
Groves
If you’re driving around looking for something to do in Minnesota, you can always stop at somebody’s farm and ask to walk through their grove. Hardly anyone charges for the privilege, but watch out for the dogs. Most of the farm dogs in Minnesota are not trained to attack—so don’t worry about that. In fact Minnesota farm dogs are not trained to do anything—they’re all born with the ability to chase cars and pee on wheels and bark like it was their last chance to bark, which in some cases it is, especially if they try to pee on a moving wheel for variety.
A grove is the stand of trees planted north and northwest of the farmhouse and farm buildings. Its purpose is to protect the owners from the north wind in the winter, and to capture the snow. But since the groves are just a few yards from the house and handy, most people use them as a trash dump. The garbage man does not make the rounds in the prairies. You want to get rid of something—tin cans, baby buggies, old farm machinery, dead cars, lumber—just toss it, drive it, or push it into the grove. If the piles get too high, some people hire a bulldozer to dig a hole every once in a while and push everything in. Then they start over. The groves are built on layers of trash thrown there over the years. And that’s where your fun begins.
Wear heavy boots if you get permission to dig in the grove, because broken glass and sharp metal are the standard. What you’re looking for out there is the great treasure. Old bottles. Alarm clocks. Anything you can use that the people who threw it in there didn’t have any use for. We are born, we throw things away, and then we pass on. It’s a funny deal, but that’s the way it is.
A shovel is handy, but you can borrow it from the owners.
When you drive into the yard, just say where you’re from and then ask:
—“Can I dig in your grove?”
If you find something you want, check it out with the owners before you haul it off.
—“You got any use for the handle off this old corn sheller?”
—“Nope—what’s it worth to you?”
—“How’s a quarter sound?”
—“Good idea—and you can have the bottle for nothing.”
—“Thanks—it looks like an antique. What do you think was in it?”
—“Ketchup.”
Grove digging. The white man hasn’t been in Minnesota long, but he’s thrown more trash into the groves and buried it than the Egyptians. So why visit the pyramids when you can walk around in the discarded
history of the Minnesota prairies. It can be real instructive if you’re in the right mood.
Senior Interviews
[Note: The following article first appeared in May 1986, but has been reprinted several times around the state. I include it here because in a few words it says more about our educational system and the kinds of students we are producing than any single document I know of. Senior interviews appear each spring in local papers and are itemized lists of each high school senior’s favorite food, most prized possession, and what they would do with a million dollars, among other things. If you plan to move to Minnesota and are worried about what the future holds for your children, this should ease your mind. —H.M.]
School Board President Lauds Seniors
It’s heartwarming for me at this time of year to read senior interviews in our little newspaper. The kids put into print their hopes and dreams and fears and wishes. It should make all parents proud and happy.
The favorite subjects this year are Current Events, Shop, and English (with Mr. Borgan). Mr. Borgan comes out as the favorite teacher, but Coach Johnson is not far behind. I expected him to be on top, but this has been a rebuilding year for the fighting Bulldogs and I guess the poor season was reflected in the kids’ votes. They say it’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game, and I certainly don’t blame Coach Johnson, but getting trounced is no fun for the fans. That game with Gilmore made us the laughingstock of the district. But even then, I think Coach should’ve talked the team into playing the second half. With a little encouragement I believe they could have made a touchdown. But as it was they all piled in their cars and went home and the superintendent had to announce that the game was over after the pep band played. Something should be done about the officiating, too. I think they were in Gilmore’s pocket.
It is odd to see an English teacher so popular, especially a man. But times have changed and that’s what makes life interesting. They say he’s nice in a strange sort of way. I never did like English. I’m behind Mr. Borgan 100 percent, though.
The favorite movie this year for every senior but one is Police Academy III, a very funny movie, and if you haven’t seen it, see it. I’ve seen it three times and laughed harder every time. Darlene, though, liked Hannah and Her Sisters, which is not hard to understand if you know her parents, but that’s not meant to be a criticism.
The favorite TV show is mostly “Love Boat” or “Falcon Crest” for the girls and “A-Team” or “Miami Vice” for the boys. These are good selections and they are programs with a strong point to make.
Which reminds me. It’s good to see that the senior pictures are not those casual snapshots so popular for a while there. In my opinion it took away from the seriousness of the occasion to see a guy with an open-necked shirt just standing there. Or a gal without makeup. Great pictures this year, the boys in sport jackets and the girls all leaning against trees.
For prized possessions, the Trans Am is real popular this year with boys and girls. And nobody picked a foreign car. That’s really great. But even more heartening to me is that kids seem to care again and it shows up in their pet peeves. They all said they try to be nice and not judge people, and their pet peeves are people who think they know everything and let you hear about it every day. Or people who aren’t concerned with other people or are stuck-up. It’s good to see this insight. Back in my day there were kids who thought they were better than anybody else, but we didn’t have senior interviews so we could speak out.
Proudest moments this year are the down payment on a Trans Am and All-State Honorable Mention. The favorite sport is basketball. But some kids—even the boys!!—picked volleyball, which we always thought was a sissy sport when I was in school.
The most embarrassing moment for girls seems to be when they showed up on dress-up day wearing jeans. The boys are generally embarrassed by their transmissions going out when they miss a speed shift. Boy, can I identify with that!
I was really surprised when the seniors said what they would do with a million dollars. They all show excellent money-handling ability and a desire to help others. They will pay off the Trans Am first and then upgrade their stereo system, but they would also send their parents on a trip to Hawaii. And they would buy things that were good investments, or put it in the bank at a good rate of return.
Favorite foods are pizza, french fries, french-fried shrimp, chocolate chip cookies, Pepsi, and cheeseburgers.
The advice to underclassmen is excellent this year. You can’t worry about everything, so don’t worry so much, and remember to have fun your senior year because you are only a senior once, and do the best you can and enjoy life or you may have regrets, especially if you don’t try to be yourself.
After graduation, most seniors plan to wait and see what they want to do.
WHERE TO GO IN MINNESOTA
Poker Parties
Poker is a popular form of gambling in Minnesota, but the style is a bit different than it is in upstate New York or downstate Florida, probably. I’m only guessing, because I’ve never put on my lucky feed cap and scooted up to a table in either place. Minnesotans are real fond of poker games that rely heavily on luck. If we played games that relied mainly on skill, we might then have to bear the burden of winning. Winning by luck is hard enough on a guy, but winning by skill is just tempting fate, and we know it.
If you find yourself in a game during your stay here, the following information should help you fit right in without asking too many questions, although if you do ask questions, it won’t be that strange, because that’s part of the game of poker in Minnesota, along with a lot of shouting and a little lunch every couple of hours.
Here’s a simple Minnesota poker test for you. If you pass, you are well on your way to becoming one of us. You are playing five-card draw and are dealt a 2, 8, 9, 10, Q, in four suits. There are three heavy raises and you call them all. At the draw should you toss that 2 and go for the inside straight?
The answer is yes in Minnesota draw. Unless you feel lucky—in which case you should draw three cards and go for the flush. Before either draw you would say:
—“I came to play poker, not watch somebody else play it.”
This is your most useful sentence when you’re out with the boys here, even if you’re a girl. Folding your hand early is considered bad manners at Minnesota poker parties—you should stay in every hand until the last dog is hung, even if you have to go to the bathroom.
Above all: There’s no such thing as a bad hand in Minnesota poker. You look at your hand, you say, “This is a pile of animal waste,” and then you bet and say, “I came to play poker.”
A Minnesota poker game is called a poker party. Calling it a party takes the sinister edge off of it and sets the tone for the good times to follow. A poker party is the men’s version of what the women do at the Lutheran church in their circles when they meet on Thursday nights, except that—God love them—the women tend to fold their hands as soon as they arrive and the men don’t quote as much scripture.
At every Minnesota poker party there will always be one guy we’ll call Orv. He’ll be easy to spot. He’ll tell you he had to get permission from the War Department to play. The War Department is his wife. She lets him go play because she’s glad to get him out from under her feet, as you may understand after you meet him. But she tells him not to come home drunk or take the checkbook with him. Poker parties are right up Orv’s alley. He can never remember whether a full house beats four of a kind or if it’s the other way around. He has the order of hands on a chart he hauls out of his billfold whenever he has either a full house or four of a kind. It’s a tip-off to most of the other players—not that it matters, since he’d bet the same way if he had nothing.
You do have to watch Orv, though. His big weakness is Corn Curls. Once he gets the bag he heads for the bottom.
—“Don’t get your head stuck in there, Orv.”
The yellow fingerprints on the cards belong mainly to Orv, but by midnig
ht not even an expert witness could tell, because the deck has close to 800 calories stuck to it, including chunks of barbecues and pickle seeds. If you don’t have to throw the deck away at the end of the evening or run it through the dishwasher you can figure it wasn’t a successful poker party.
A Few Words About Priorities at Minnesota Poker Parties
If anybody needs a beer, the game stops until he gets it. And if nobody has heard the one about the one-legged Norwegian with priapism, the game stops. Of course, just about everybody has, but you can’t hear a good story too many times. Nothing will offend a Minnesota poker player so much as interrupting a good story in order to play poker.
Remember: A poker party is an excuse to get out of the house. It might seem like the guys could just as well sit in the living room on soft chairs and tell the one about the hard-of-hearing old maid and the man from Roto-Rooter as many times as they wanted. But it wouldn’t look right, would it? A bunch of guys just talking and drinking. You’ve got to have something to do while you’re doing the other.