Allison Campbell Jensen

Coming in August to Minnesota for the first time, we headed the next day to Lowertown St. Paul to roam the farmers’ market stalls, heavy with vegetables and fragrant with herbs. I bought sweet corn fresher and more delicious than any I’d ever had before. (That first time, did I eat just two ears? Or maybe it was three? Memory doesn’t serve, except for butter dripping off my fingers.)

Then the end of August rolled around and we visited the State Fair. “Visited”? How about dove into the Great Minnesota mosh pit?  My then-husband and his Norwegian-heritage family were famously introverted — except brother Brad, who lived in Wisconsin, and, well, maybe you know about small-town Wisconsin? Seems like there are two bars for every church? Brad knew. (Anyhoo.)

So many people! Thousands of people. In crowds. Some not wearing a whole lot of clothing. By afternoon, many of them sweaty, yet happy, or determined, or leaning over to wipe butter or milk or chocolate or cheese curds off the chin or shirt of a younger family member. Sometimes even jostling a bit, seeking a better look at the Northern Pike or Walleye in the concrete pond outside the DNR Building.

Minnesota’s State Fair crowd scene was infamously, decadently described by Jonathan Raban, an otherwise exemplary writer in “Old Glory: An American Voyage.” The Brit captured the scene well enough to make a person cringe (particularly an adopted Minnesotan). The January 2022 death of Louie Anderson, beloved Minnesota comedian, still fresh in my mind, I suggest you read about the beginning of his voyage down the Mississippi River with Louie’s fat jokes in mind. On the other hand, I highly recommend “Bad Land: An American Romance.” It is a brilliant book of history, reportage, and Americana.

Ooops. A little tangent there. Steering away from the detour to Tangent, Oregon, let’s return to the three things.

Compared with the State Fair crowds, it was only when I ventured out at intermission during my first Minnesota Orchestra concert that I was more overwhelmed by Minnesotans in proximity that they otherwise typically seem to avoid. I mean: These people may have invented the sideways, stiff-arm near-hug (useful to express affection in our pandemic times)! But during intermission, they mingled, crushed, hollered into each others’ 6 foot off the ground ears, and towered over me.  So loud! And the orchestra wasn’t even playing. I couldn’t hear actual words; just a Minnesota Scandinavian-accented low mumble or grumble. Hard to tell from 5 foot, 1/2 inch.

(Minnesota’s one-time Miss America, Gretchen Carlson, claims she is 5’3” Humph; in heels, I guess). These classical music lovers all seemed to loom at 5’10” and above — way above. Gosh, some of them seemed to be about 6’6” !!??

It was a relief to regain my seat. Maybe the other short people knew to stay out of the lobby. Whew.

Finally, the IDS Crystal Court, which my friend Rick Nelson reminded me of today on his Facebook posts with many historic photos and images of a newly renovated heart of downtown Minneapolis. Whoever heard of a town square indoors? Weelllll, when January’s low temps dip below zero and the wind is howling south from the Arctic, it begins to seem like a smart idea. I first saw it in fall, which tends to be a clement, even beguiling, season the land of 10,000 Lakes and quite a few maples turning scarlet and orange and yellow, so the penny did not drop for me right away.

Later, when I was working downtown, hustling through the skyway habitrails to grab lunch or check out a sale at Dayton’s (oh . . . Dayton’s), the expanse of space and sky and water in the Crystal Court was a welcome to a larger embrace, a bigger influence, a place to slow one’s steps and take in all the people. Like the State Fair, except most folks were in their suits or dresses or heels or Hubert White shirts.

It was a classy place to rendezvous — you do know there’s a Mary Tyler Moore table overlooking the Crystal Court from a balcony in the Basil’s restaurant? Named for a woman who never lived in Minnesota but came to represent Minnesota to the rest of the country: Smart, charmy, corny, a little goofy, and, by gum, good-hearted! Time to toss your tams, everyone!

Well, the Crystal Court still strikes me as a bit ostentatious for a people who work so hard to appear humble and to pretend they don’t have a $5 million home on Lake Minnetonka, a nice pontoon boat for a ride around The Lake, or a swanky Summit Avenue address in St. Paul. But, when company is coming, we like to get spruced up a bit.

Ope! I titled this “Three Things,” but I’ve included at least four. Just got carried away; even after quite a while living in Minnesota, I’m still “not from here.”

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