MPR's Minnesota Scrapbook - State Fair 2000

August - September, 2000


	Minnesota Scrapbook Quick Audio
		It's the Fair (Song)
		It's the Weather
		It's the Language

WHAT MAKES MINNESOTA special? We invited the public to submit their favorite Minnesota and State Fair stories to the MPR Minnesota Scrapbook. We've recorded a few and include the rest here to show the enduring impact of Minnesota in the hearts and minds of many.

Dwight M. Anderson, Warren, MN

One of the best things about living in the Red River Valley of the North is the season of Spring. We go from boring winter with dull grays and browns to an explosion of green, which is quite remarkable as this occurs as we are tilling and planting our black soils. This sight is unique to our area.

Karen Morrissey, Mounds View, MN

I have many favorite places and scenes in Minnesota. Though born in North Dakota, I have lived in Minnesota since 1955. The first time I left the state for a vacation I flew out west. Upon returning and in the flight descent I was in a position to see the Twin Cities from the air, and the Metro skyline. I felt a sudden surge of homecoming joy and knew that this is where I belong.

Jenaya Van Horn-Dobberstein, St. Paul, MN

Five years ago November I moved to MN from Kansas. After a few weeks I noticed severe muscle pain in my arms and mentioned this to my friend one night on the phone. She suggested I clench all aching muscles to figure out what activity might be causing this pain. I did and realized that the pain was a result of trying to keep warm while walking to work!

Jorge Froilan GONZALEZ, Mar del Plata, ARGENTINA, BSAS

Just to say hello from Argentina. We (that is, my wife and I) have fond memories of our
days in MN, where we did our graduate studies. We lived in the married student
housing close to the Fairgrounds in Falcon Heights, on Commonwealth Ave. and still
remember how impressed we were with the State Fair the first time we went there. By the way: do they still have fireworks at close time every Fair day?, are the Sky Riders still performing?

From MPR we miss both the classical music broadcasts and the Prairie Home companion
stories on Saturdays. Greetings, from an Argentinian couple with very good (very good indeed) memories of MN.

Catherine McCloud, Farmington, MN

I had been seriously considering leaving Minnesota for greener pastures and was on the brink of making the decision. "You won't be able to listen to the Morning Show every morning then," a voice said. I had to say hmmmmm to this since I start to feel tense when Dale Connelly goes on vacation for just a week. "You won't be able to see the Prairie Home Companion in person anymore." That was true. I'm on the phone to Ticket Master at five minutes to twelve on the day tickets go on sale to MPR members and secretly gloat over my first row seats until it's time to use them. "You won't be able to see the snow falling through the bare branches in the winter or be able to smell the way things grow here in the summer." "You won't be able to go the State Fair or take long bike rides down deserted trails.""You won't be able to..." I ignored the voice since it was obviously speaking from an irrational, nonlogical viewpoint, with no concern for economic realities. I stayed in Minnesota for entirely different reasons but I can't remember what they were right now.

John D. Bradford, Minnetrista, MN

I asked my father, John, what he remembered most about the State Fair. This is it. Please feel free to contact him. Thank you. Kate Bradford

The State Fair was nostalgia to me when I was a kid, connecting with the times
of my parents that I heard about but could not live. At the Fair, it was almost
there.

The animal and agricultural setting was a way of rounding out my country
existence. Even though I lived in a comfy house and walked across a golf course
(that forbid Jews) to loaf around a swimming pool, I pretended I was in the
country. And farming stuff was supposed to be part of that.

In truth, I never liked the city stuff. I felt more rested and safe around the
dull rural thinking of the fair people. In my youth, Blaine and Fridley did not
exist. The swelling lower middle class was not even a pimple. The only place for
beer was the Beer Garden and nobody under 45 was in there.

Teenagers were not invented yet.

One year I went nine times. Every day. I rode the bus into town, took another
one out Snelling, and wandered around the same damned streets all day long,
listening to the cars race on the track and going down to the Midway to watch
the Snake Man eat a light bulb.

I never ate the food much. Still don't. The cheap wienies and milk are a good
deal - used to be better.

My grandfather's publishing company (Webb) published The Farmer, which was the
nation's standard for farmers. They had a booth - first up by Machinery Hill and
then later over by the Old Mill. I went there, got a copy of the Farmer,
wondered how the hell anyone could write about sheep and pigs, and went on to
the Grandstand exhibits to get my glasses cleaned with the stuff that prevents
fogging. They never knew who I was when I went to the Farmer booth and I never
knew who I was talking too. He retired in late 50's and died in 1963 - so even
his name would not have perked up most employees there.

I don't really like the Fair much anymore. But I have to go. I have to
re-connect. I see the same damn cow and same stupid chicken or turkey. I go into
the horse barn and find it impossible to see or visit the horses - always has
been. But I still go thru there.

When I took you kids there, I felt I was doing the duty of bringing you to the
place where the earth connects to our brain, thru our sense of history and place
as farm type people. Minnesota seems to me to be farm type. I know we make
pacemakers and sticky tape - but when I am 500 miles away, I think about the
Glewwe's vegetable farm down the road on Delaware - and the cows that used to be
dumped in Grandpa's back fields for a season of fattening.

Once I got some books and thought about buying a farm as a hobby. Someone told
me I had to feed the chickens 5 times a day. Forget that.

Back to bed.

Meet you by the Lizard Lady.

JDB

Eunice M. Abresch, Rochester, MN

What makes Minnesota special to me are the many bike trails that are available within driving distance. Each trail is diverse, well-maintained and unique in some way. One can enjoy the change of seasons, surprise wildlife sightings, and welcoming destinations. Biking the trails, while occasionally have heavy bike traffic on the weekends, usually can offer a perfect getaway for as little as 2 hours to more extended trips of 5-6 hours depending on final destinations. Flowers and birds can be enjoyed in abundance from April to October. I'm always reminded that we have been given a beautiful world that needs to be taken care of with thoughtful use, here in Minnesota! Praise God for His many blessings so evident on the bike trails.

Kate Bradford, St. Paul , MN

This is some of what I sent to my friend, Heather, a St. Paul native, who has just gotten her masters in film direction from Columbia in NYC. She is tired of New York and misses Minnesota. We've been friends for 17 years.

You know what I think about New York? It's been done. I think that is partly why "Fargo" had such an appeal. Everyone expects scandals with lascivious details and plenty of gore. In Minnesota you expect, normal. What is most interesting about Minnesota, is how strange our concept of normal is. Take it out, to a Stranger In A Strange Land perspective. There are many aspects of Minnesotan culture, that many would find ghastly. The State Fair is a perfect example. Where else do you think you'd feel okay eating while you trudge through cow and pig manure? Somehow, the State Fair makes it okay to do that. Another thing, the Midway. Most people find it rude to stare, but at the Midway, and actually all around the fair, that's part of the show. We see the same damn cows, tractors, 4-H quilts, radio shows every year. The food makes us nauseous, but we still want more. This is the emergence of an instinctual need by many peoples of Northern descent, that has developed over centuries, to "pack it on" before the long winter. Of course, with pollution, our winters are becoming shorter and shorter, but our northern genetics have not adapted as quickly. You could probably write a whole thesis on the psychology of food, tying it back to the Roman festivals of binging and purging, further back to Egyptian rites, and even further, to our nomadic ancestors.

So what makes it special for you. Is it the smell of mildew and various airborne particles in Ye Old Mill, or how none of that mattered when you were small. It was the closest thing to Wonderland that Minnesota had to offer.

Is it that familiar burn in your chest that you miss, or the memories of watching the mechanical taffy-puller as you walk with your parents past the food building?

Do you miss the experience of vertigo on the Ferris Wheel? or the tickle in your stomach as you roll around on the Tilt-a-Whirl?

I like all of these things.

Here's another great thing about the fair, that's a little secret......you don't have to pay $2.50 to see bearded ladies there! They're walking right past you!

Cecilia and Francesco Di Caprio, Mendota Heights, MN

My name is Francesco and I am 5 and a half. I'm Cecilia and I am 7 and a half. We like the State Fair. We like the Giant Slide, corn dogs(!), hot dogs, the Kidway roller coaster, the mazes in the Kidway, the River Ride, the giant pumpkin, and the Berry-Go-Round. Cecilia would like the Bumper boats if she were shorter. We also like the Sculpture Garden. The Sculpture Garden is not at the State Fair, in case you did not know. We also like our school and the teachers in our school. This was typed by their mother. Thanks!

James Stock, Brooklyn Park, MN

My love of Minnesota is in the memories of waking up in the morning and looking down at Lake Superior from Carlton Peak and seeing the lake so still it looks like the sky starts at the shore.

Rosemary Oftelie, New Hope, MN

Our family has always enjoyed cars trips "up north." When our son was about 6 years old we were driving on Hwy #2 enjoying the beautiful trees against the intense blue sky when we spotted a small opening in the forest. There was the most beautiful cozy log home nestled among the pines. My husband and I said, "Wouldn't that be a wonderful place to live?" It was very quiet for a moment and then our son, Joel, piped up, "But who do they play with?" Joel has since enjoyed much of the "up north" experience, but a home in the woods may never be his "cup of tea"!

Teresa Donovan, Burnsville, MN

There are so many MN treasures. One that stands out is the Boundary Waters. Surrounded by water, shore and habitat, the BWCA is a world wonder that we can all enjoy and keep close to our hearts.

Jorge Froilan GONZALEZ, Mar del Plata, ARGENTINA, BSAS

Hello,
Just to say hello from Argentina. We (that is, my wife and I) have fond memories of our
days in MN, where we did our graduate studies. We lived in the married student
housing close to the Fairgrounds in Falcon Heights, on Commonwealth Ave. and still
remember how impressed we were with the State Fair the first time we went there. By the way: do they still have fireworks at close time every Fair day?, are the Sky Riders still performing?

From MPR we miss both the classical music broadcasts and the Prairie Home companion
stories on Saturdays.

Greetings, from an Argentinian couple with very good (very good indeed) memories of MN.

Paul Landskroener, Minneapolis, MN

Another reflection from my early days in Minnesota: Listening to KNOW one morning at breakfast, my wife and I heard what was, to us, the funniest story about the young woman chosen as 1991's Princess Kay of the Milky Way. She explained that it wasn't a beauty contest and that she had to answer tough questions in an interview. She told the reporter that the hardest question was, "Suppose you're invited to lunch at the governor's mansion, and the governor's wife sets bread and oleo on the table. What do you do?" She said she'd say, as politely as she could, that she'd prefer butter since butter was one of Minnesota's leading exports etc. We howled. When we said that she was looking forward to sitting in a freezer at the State Fair and have her likeness carved out of butter, we fell off our chairs in tears.

I then went to work. My colleagues were all very intelligent and hip lawyers recently graduated at the top of their class from law school and chosen to be law clerks with justices on the Minnesota Supreme Court. All but one of the ten others were native Minnesotans, and she was an Iowan. At lunch that day, I shared how funny I had found Princess Kay. I didn't mean to, but I apparently dripped with condescention at the hickishness of it all. To my surprise and dismay, no one really joined in my laughter; the most I got was some uncomfortable smiles and the subject was changed. I felt vaguely embarassed as if I had offended someone, but didn't really understand why.

After lunch, one after the other, three of my female colleagues came into my office and quietly but FIRMLY explained that, even though I was new to Minnesota, I had better understand something right away: while growing up, EVERY Minnesota girl -- including each of them -- dreamt of being Princess Kay and having her head carved in butter and that, while there was something funny about the whole deal, it wasn't nearly as funny as I thought it was. Actually, it was kind of a family thing and I wasn't enough of a Minnesotan yet to make fun of it. They were very good about it; there wasn't so much condemnation as an understanding that, if I was going to be a Minnesotan, I'd just better understand that the Dairy Princess is not a joke, OK?

Now, after almost ten years, I have not forgotten their little talks. To me, this was a gentle and honest introduction to what it means to be a Minnesotan.

Paul Landskroener, Minneapolis, MN

Chapter 1: It was August 1991, our first weekend after having moved to Minneapolis. We walked with our 7-week old son to Powerhorn Park for the Art Fair. After a couple of hours of browsing, we walked around to the east side of the lake on our way home. As we walked, we first heard, and then saw, someone playing bagpipes under an oak tree. As we approached, we saw that the musician was dressed in a gorilla costume. He was all alone, but didn't seem the least bit lonely or shy. We nodded to him, he nodded back; we kept walking, he kept playing. My wife and I looked at each other with big smiles and silently agreed we'd come to the right place.

Chapter 2: It is the first Sunday in May, 1998. I was standing, in costume, with my section of the May Day parade sponsored by In the Heart of the Beast Puppet & Mask Theatre, waiting for it to step off. A distinguished looking older man wearing a kilt and Tam O'Shanter and carrying bagpipes stepped up to me and asked the time. I told him, and he thanked me. Then, caught up in the euphoria of May Day, I told him the story of the bagpipe-playing gorilla. He listened carefully and then said, "Well, that would have been my son. There he is over there" and pointed. Sure enough: there was the gorilla with the bagpipes. This time he was wearing a kilt and Tam O'Shanter just like his dad. The old man and I walked over and I told the story to the gorilla. The gorilla mumbled something inside his mask, held out his arms and we embraced.

Mary Ann Besser, Hudson, WI

I remember my father standing beside me while I rode the State Fair carousel. He stood by my side, doing deep kneebends, so his face would always be right next to mine, making me feel safe.