Tolkkinen: Ten reasons I’m thankful to live in rural Minnesota

CLITHERALL, Minn. – Twin Cities residents might wonder why anyone would want to live in rural Minnesota. What’s there to do? Isn’t it mostly farms, mining and bars? Isn’t it isolating? Aren’t you afraid of wolves?

Well. In honor of Thanksgiving, and to help city people understand country folk a little better, I’ve put together 10 of the things I’m most thankful for out here. They’re not in any particular order, and it’s not a comprehensive list. But they’re important to me, and maybe they’ll provide a glimmer into life out here in the hinterlands.

Dark skies. One thing that separates rural Minnesota from urban is the way you can tip your head back at night and see the white blur of the Milky Way. The sky that inspired poets, philosophers and sailors is vanishing across the planet, but Minnesota is home to two locations so dark they have been recognized by Dark Sky International, an organization that fights light pollution worldwide. They are Voyageurs National Park and the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Other places in rural Minnesota aren’t quite as dark, but you can still see plenty of stars. Some farms have all-night yard lights, but the power company will disconnect them if you ask.

Neighbors caring for neighbors. I’m not saying city people don’t care about their neighbors, but it feels like in rural areas, we need each other more. Ambulances, fire trucks and tow trucks take a long time to reach us. And because we’re more spread out, odds are we have some connection to people who make the news for tragic reasons, so someone will host a fundraising dinner or benefit auction for them, and the community shows up. When you slide into a ditch, a nearby farmer will fire up the tractor to pull you out. When someone’s cattle get loose, you can bet that neighbors on four-wheelers will help round them up.

Being surrounded by nature. You can sit on your front steps in the spring and hear thousands of frogs waking up. Or take a winter walk and see coyote tracks. There’s the big sky of western and southern Minnesota. And the ceaseless movement of lake water after the ice breaks up. There are so many opportunities to be in nature whether you’re into hiking, photography, or just sitting still. It’s a treat to be still in the woods, listening to the wildlife, and nobody jogs or bicycles past, and you can’t hear any traffic.

There’s a real streak of weirdness in greater Minnesota. Where else will you find a gravesite for a myth? Paul Bunyan’s grave can be found in Kelliher. “Here lies Paul ... and that’s all,” says the headstone at the end of a 20-foot grave. There are always the people who keep farm country lively by building hay bale sculptures next to roadways. I’ve seen hay bales painted as minions, school mascots and vehicles. For years, Whalan, a tiny city in southeastern Minnesota, hosted a Stand-Still Parade, where the parade stands in one spot and the spectators do the walking. Greater Minnesota is a perfect incubator for weird ideas. All it takes is a few friends, a dull winter, and a sentence that begins, “Hey, what if ...”

You don’t have to get all gussied up. One time in Mobile, Alabama, I showed up at a bridal shower in jean shorts and a T-shirt. Whoops! Not my most culturally aware moment. So, thank goodness for the informality of greater Minnesota where I can wear my paint-spattered jacket and mud boots into Bigfoot gas station in Vining and nobody says boo. That’s not to say people don’t ever wear suits, but they’re mostly bankers or developers who have to Look Professional.

Back-to-the-land people. Half hippie, half old-time farmer, these are amazingly kind, thoughtful people who choose to live in greater Minnesota because they want to care for the land and make a living from it. You’ll meet these people at farmers markets and hoedowns, and at evangelical and liberal churches. They care about soil tilth and overuse of antibiotics, and they’re used to cleaning chicken pens, composting their vegetable scraps and saving their garden seed.

Betsy-Tacy and Tib, the fictional trio based on Mankato writer Maud Hart Lovelace’s childhood. Lovelace told interviewers she had a happy childhood, and her books prove that happy stories need not be dull. They age with the reader and plant the idea that girls can dream big and also find real love. The Betsy-Tacy Society has bought Betsy and Tacy’s childhood homes, but something more is needed. Maybe a Betsy-Tacy-Tib statue, a huge one to rival Paul Bunyan or Big Ole.

Retirees who care. Rural Minnesota is aging, and the upside is that many retirees bring a fresh infusion of ideas and energy when they move back or buy a lake home. They help rural Minnesota hum. They deliver meals to homebound people, serve as foster grandparents in schools and drive people to doctor’s appointments, a real challenge if you don’t drive and live 30 miles from a clinic. They serve on hospital boards, monitor lake water quality and support community events.

Niijii Radio. This White Earth Nation radio station delivers a rich medley of music and content. It could be Steam Powered Giraffe one minute and Waylon Jennings the next, followed by tribal drumming, then the dumb jokes that have gained Talk of the Terry a following in northwest Minnesota. Bonus, you can learn how to say “thank you” and “hello” in Ojibwe (“miigwech” and “aaniin.”) Granted, it has a regional, not statewide reach, although you can stream it.

There’s more freedom. Where else can you build your own straw bale home without a building inspector hovering? Where else could our neighbors fire bowling balls from a cannon? Where else could you run naked from your sauna into the nearby lake without being cited for indecent exposure?

If you live in rural Minnesota, email me what you are most grateful for. I might use them in a future column.