Home Town

Thanks to Numenius, I ran across the photoblog Everydot from my part of the world:

Every dot on the map interests me, especially the little tiny ones. Some “towns” are no more than an intersection, possibly with a store or a town hall. A few towns seem to be gone without a trace, though sometimes the tiniest evidence remains. I have photographed over 300 towns, mostly in Minnesota and North Dakota. I also have photographed a number of towns in Manitoba, Ontario, and Washington, as well as a couple in Wisconsin, South Dakota, and Iowa.

His attention to "every dot" counters the tendency of maps to impose an abstract system of valuation on places, a system in which big dots gather power and attention at the expense of little dots. While his statement "I’d like to finish North Dakota first, as it seems the easiest to conquer" seems to run counter to the more egalitarian premise of his project, I'm trying to not take offense as a North Dakota native. I suppose its just a matter of quantity in this case, not quality.

In case I didn't have enough reasons to be proud of my home town, I discovered that Zach Warren will be conducting his second attempt to break the World Record for "The Most Miles on a Unicycle in One Hour" in Fargo this August.

"Why Fargo, North Dakota?" you may ask. Zach's response:

It's Flat! On a unicycle, rain grading and turns on the road make riding and balance at high speeds (15 mph +) very difficult. Fargo was chosen by recommendation from fellow unicyclist Lars Clausen ( www.onewheel.org), who has ridden across the USA more than once on a unicycle. Tom Smith, owner of Island Park Cycles in Fargo, has calibrated a closed-circuit track of 3.8 miles according to USATF qualifications. Zach will need to complete roughly two and a half laps to break the current record.

This ends a nationwide search for the perfect terrain. Previous tracks reserved for the attempt include: the Kissena Velodrome in Queens, NYC, the MIT track in Boston, and the NASCAR track in Dover, Deleware. http://www.unicycle4kids.org/kinesis/template.php?section=cRecord

I first learned of Zach when he "joggled" the Boston Marathon (he owns the world record for running a marathon while juggling three objects at 3:07:46). And now I found out that he attends St. James's, though I haven't had a chance to meet him there. Our rector sent the parish an email letting us know that he had just arrived in Afghanistan where he's working to help children through the Mobile Mini Circus for Children.

You can read more about him at http://www.afghanmmcc.org/pages/about.htm and http://www.unicycle4kids.org, and listen to an interview with him at http://www.itconversations.com/shows/detail921.html.

From Orion Magazine:

FOOD FIGHT: A Revolt in the Breadbasket of Democracy by Ted Nace

"Monsanto already controls 91% of the GM seed market worldwide -- corn, rice, soy beans -- and have now set their sights on taking over America's wheat.

But the brave wheat farmers of North Dakota have other plans. So far, and against all odds, they've prevailed."

Growing up North Dakota, I was raised on hotdish.  If you’re new to hotdishes, this excerpt from How to Talk Minnesotan: A Visitor’s Guide, might help introduce you to its cultural significance:

On your visit to Minnesota, you will sooner or later come face to face with Minnesota’s most popular native food, hotdish.  It can grace any table. A traditional main course, hotdish is cooked and served hot in a single baking dish and commonly appears at family reunions and church suppers. Hotdish is constructed on a base of canned cream of mushroom soup and canned vegetables. The other ingredients are as varied as the Minnesota landscape. If you sit down to something that doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, it’s probably hotdish.

I was pleased to find Hotdish entry in Wikipedia, just one more testament to the brilliance of this collaborative encyclopedia (eat your heart out, Encyclopedia Britannica).

The last couple months, I’ve been getting in touch with my roots by cooking more hotdishes myself (as well as crock pot dishes, which I consider a sister to the casserole). Wednesday night I decided to try out a hotdish standard—tuna hotdish with peas—though embellished with a few different ingredients (a butternut squash soup base and farfalle noodles).

I based my dish on a recipe from Epicurious.com, which included this remarkable review from japanesesteve from Agusta, ME:

(Too disgusting for words. I would rather eath cockroaches on fear factor. Bottom line, tuna cassarole is food from hell. (in the background, vomit spewing) Sorry about that people, I just want to emphasize my absolute hate for your weird tuna trash. Why can't we eat sushi? Why can't we eat sushi? Hacks should stop selling their trash on the Internet. I have a good recipe: my world famous C-Dawg's pizza with bbq sauce and all kinds of vegies and meats. Now that is food.

Such display of bile is impressive, and I found it oddly satisfying that tuna hotdish could inspire such vitriol. Clearly, japanessteve has some unresolved issues here, perhaps even a secret attraction for casseroles that he lets slip in the last line: his recipe sounds more like a casserole than a pizza (who really slathers “all kinds of veggies and meats” with bbq sauce and throws in on a pizza?).

Just stop fighting your natural urges, my friend--throw it all in a casserole dish, turn the oven to 425, and be at peace.  I’ll look forward to the recipe for C-Dawg’s bbq pizza hotdish when you finally come to your senses.

I almost didn't make it out to hear Tom Brosseau play at Club Passim tonight. Elaine emailed me from CA a couple of days ago, urging me to go, but when I got home from work the humidity wrestled me to the ground and pinned me. The power was out when I walked in the door, and I was no match for the heat that had settled in. I walked around in a daze, trying to muster the energy to make a decision, any kind of decision. I finally made my way to the PC Cafe, thinking I would at least get out of the heat and get some work done. But once there, I felt that hearing a folk singer from North Dakota was too good an opportunity to pass up, and I was soon on my bike heading to Cambridge.

As usual, once I got to Passim I knew I made the right choice.  Tom's voice and style made me think of first of Jolie Holland, then Johny Cash and Woody Guthry, then finally a bit of Jeff Buckley. I quickly warmed to his unassuming demeanor, his self-deprecating humor. And soon I was moved by songs of about North Dakota, of wandering, of missing places, of lost love, of the struggles of ordinary people.

Tonight I needed someone to sing about where I'm from. As Boston changes around me and old feelings of dislocation seem to be returning, maybe I depend more on external reference points to get my bearings. I smelled North Dakota in the grass in front of the Kennedy School and in the fields near Harvard Stadium as I biked home.

Thanks, Tom.