Green light for summer

The late May Cloud-Drizzle-Freezeathon continues.

Strangers are showing up in our coffee shops. The style conscious women use more makeup than we are used to. They don't appear overtly happy. Neither do the males with them. Aren't they supposed to be happy, having escaped one or other Metro if even for a long weekend?

Broadway is now four lanes.
Be careful in crosswalks.
People are in a hurry.
Don't expect people to expect you will blow that stop sign coming out of Southtown or the DQ.
Best park on the east side of Larry's. Come in on 11th to avoid the Lake Country State Bank construction.
The locals are traffic hindrances on 108 West and East...

.....until the Nodakers hit Oak Lodge Summer Village.....

("What do you suppose cabins are going for these days?)

.... and for the second time....

(first time was back just before the south stoplight in town where the parents should have been pointing left toward the Pelican and with the long wait for a left turn on red they might have had time to roll down the window to take a picture, but instead they were fixated on......"Look kids! Those girls are from Africa somewhere. The High School they've got here is good enough for all these foreigners. Dad drove down special that night to vote no, even with two buck a gallon gas.")

.....the brake lights come on.




("Look Honey, a lake! We're there. Oh my God, what's going on out on the island? See that? I heard in town that somebody bought it and are going to build out there!")

Suddenly, as the gawking just gets going good and all necks are craned to port.......

("Oh my God kids! It's a mudslide!")






Phil is flipping burgers. Molly is answering the phone. The bar stools and inside booths are full. There is Sprechers Root Beer and Cream Soda in the old cooler in the corner. In the window is a new sign




The Moldy Oldie Station is on the faux jukebox radio. Too cold to prop up B.B. the Bikini Mannequin to slow traffic out front. Gene sprung for new planks on the dock.




Lawn mowers are fully fueled, blades sharpened, repair bills paid. Ponchoed drivers wait in the pits for the rain to stop.

Once again, for twelve weeks, we have to share our corner of paradise.

It's what we've waited for, maybe not quite how we expected it, but it's here.
It's a four day weekend.
Fifty degrees with light drizzle.
It's summer.
Deal with it.

Weekend of the Long Lunch



The Night of the Long Lunch has morphed into The Weekend of the Long Lunch for Grad Partygoers. In a town as diverse as 56572 people eat and party at different times. The commencement ceremony last night was a bi-lingual Chevy. Due to budget cuts, the CTG, a laid off Speech Coach with a good idea and the willingness to spend time coaching a (Swedish-Norwegian) Valedictorian - youngest son of a teacher - and Co-Salutatorians - one the (Icelandic-German) daughter of a veterinarian, the other the (Norwegian) daughter of a dairy farmer - no commencement speaker was hired. Angie Magnusson shared her stage time with Ivon Diaz who cleaned up his Guanajuato dialect enough that even Spanish speaking gringos could understand his message of gratitude. Among the one hundred four graduates (the largest graduating class for the foreseeable future), seventeen languages are spoken. This is rural Minnesota 2005 friends and neighbors. No, the bus is not full, slide over and make room.

After the ceremony the Yes votes went to their parties and the CTG out in the country to theirs. Both sides talked about one another until after midnight. "It's the pits being a Grad two weeks after a failed school bond referendum. At the parties people don't talk about what I did or the Class of 2005 did. I hope that stack of envelopes is full of Cadillacs, not Chevys."

Parents are getting more creative when it comes to party venues. This is good. Last night I went to a Taco Bar in the service bay of the Old Ford Garage - not the one that became Super Valu. I also attended one in the old part of the new Library (a Cadillac) and the local Country Club (a Chevy).

Over on First Avenue SW Fartun rented tables and chairs and set them up between the two old apple trees in the front yard. The kids played soccer in the driveway - while the men danced in the basement - while the women - dressed to the nines - danced in the living room using an empty plastic gallon milk jug for a drum. I can't remember ever attending a Grad Party where the family was so happy they danced. Fartun will leave for Nairobi mid-summer, whether she will return is undecided, our loss, Nairobi's gain. She was dressed even more stunningly than at Grand March



photo courtesy of Jan Woolever

AND yesterday she had her hands hennaed something like this:



My family is throwing a party today for my niece. It will be more traditional, uncatered, unhennaed, at home with Mostly Yes votes attending. We may dance, after everybody leaves.