The rain fell all day yesterday in Central Minnesota, and for several hours the grass showed nearly everywhere, almost green, as if Winter had already passed and Spring was here. Then, night fell, and the snow came covering everything under a new blanket of white. For a day, it was a Seattle winters day, and then it returned to what my good friend, Tim Dohmen, & I refer to as Hoth. Minnesota as the world outside Minnesota believes it to perpetually be. Im in a funk today, so I got up and shoveled. Its not something I know well. Shoveling snow. I left Minnesota more then 24 years ago, but this year, I want to feel the seasons change. Minnesotans call me a wimp, but I think I hope Im proving them wrong. And Californians think Im insane to stay in this weather. But the fact is: there is no paradise. No perfect place. And today, with my usually chronically aching shoulder & back & hip, I shoveled for my Mom & Dad. Most other sons here in this cold climate of drifting snow have shoveled for their parents for years, maybe for their whole lives. But for me, I get to shovel for my family this year. A weird gift. I get to feel the slight bite of 15 degrees fahrenheit on my face. Hear the crunch of snow and creaking ice under my feet. In the city, I listen to the way people speak, and Minnesotans, you do sound like youre from the movie Fargo, no matter how much you deny your accents. The same people that called me Maui Boy when I was 16 years years and delivering pizza in the snow, now call me California with a small sneer, but you sound the same years later. The oohs long and hollow. But, thats a native tongue, and Im not native anymore. Yet, after visiting my favorite places this past 14 months, places I call home, Quintana Roo, Randstad, Wobegon & Norcal, Im left asking myself: Where am I from? Does my moms Siddhartha sitting in the snow feel like me, so far from warmth, clutching crystals, uncaring about the snow? Because, however cliche, paradise must come from inside. No tropical beach or snowmobile trail or audience packed theatre will amount to the paradise in your head. So, today, I shoveled. Looking for paradise beneath my stocking cap.
Posted on: Tue, 16 Dec 2014 18:57:14 +0000
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