I'll Never Tell You My Secrets!

Last weekend, Minnesota was hit with one of the worst winter storms we've ever had. We all woke up on Saturday to a thick, drift-y blanket of soft powder that swallowed up cars and consumed city streets. Minnesotans are a tough breed, but this tested us. The snow storm was immediately followed by sub-zero temperatures. Mother nature is a real bitch sometimes.

That night, a friend of mine who lives 5 blocks away invited me over to have some wine and cheese and to just generally hunker down. 'Hunkering down', for those of you who may not be native Minnesotans, is what we call being inside during a storm. You can hunker down by yourself, but it's more fun to hunker down with others. It creates the illusion of having a good time while the weather spews its evil outside.

In any case, I bundled up, packed a bottle of wine into my bag, and headed out the door. The sidewalks weren't shoveled, and there was thigh-deep snow there and in the streets. It took me almost 30 minutes to walk the 5 blocks to her house.

This storm got me thinking about what it's like to grow up Minnesotan. For one thing, it makes you physically tough. Your blood becomes a little thicker, your skin a little rougher. The weather is something to survive, not enjoy. When non-Minnesotans talk of being cold, you scoff at them. Cold? You think you're cold? It's -30 in Minnesota! Now that's cold! Choosing to live in this weather, to endure its cold hell every year, is a badge of honor. Yes, sir, I am that tough.

But I think it does something else to a person. I think it makes people mentally tough, too. I was thinking that surviving a Minnesota winter is sort of like being a captured spy, and winter is the enemy. It pushes the envelope when it comes to testing your will. No, not with bamboo shoots under fingernails, but with icy winds and dark mornings scraping a layer of ice from your car, only to find it is too cold to start. Not with sleep deprivation and water torture, but with frostbite on the skin between the cuff of your coat and your mitten. And the thing is, we don't have the option to say 'Enough! I'll tell you the location of the uranium!' or whatever. It's something we have to endure, every year, for the rest of our time here. And if you're a real Minnesotan, you must endure it with a big smile on your face.

On Sunday, I went out to shovel my car from its icy tomb. I shoveled for over an hour and a half, and then decided to take a break. As I turned to go back inside, one of my neighbors stopped shoveling, too. At the same time, we looked at each other, gave each other the exact same 'Do you believe this?' look, and started laughing in unison.

And I think that's why we all stay in Minnesota.
xo