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Fargo, ND was recently awarded the title America’s Worst Weather City by the Weather Channel. This dubious honor is something I voted for three times, told my friends to vote for and filled me with pride when I found out that the place I spent eight years of my life is now considered the hardest to live in. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with being tough, but there it is.
Only problem, one of the custodians at work, independent of this contest, has picked up on the fact that Fargo, and North Dakota in general, has very miserable weather, and won’t stop talking to me about it.
At first it was funny, “Fargo is so cold!” “Yeah it is!” har har har. But now it’s getting really old.
I’ll be sitting at my desk working or on break, and he’ll come up to me and say something like:
“My dad was stationed at Minot Airforce Base. He used to do the trick where he’d throw a glass of water outside and it would be frozen before it hit the ground… he was just miserable, after that he wanted to go to Vietnam.”
“Man, I can see why you left–48 days of below zero temperatures! Who can live like that? What’s wrong with people that they stay there?”
“Do your parents still live there? Do you ever have to go visit them or do they just come here? If I was them, I’d come here.”
This is officially out of bounds. As the old saying goes, you can’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes. Or my versions: You can’t make fun of my parents because you haven’t had to live with them, and you certainly can’t make fun of North Dakota unless you’ve been there. You haven’t earned it. This is a rule that is very important to me. This is a rule that has lead me to read many, many lousy books so that I can hate on them with authority. Although I know his good-natured ribbing is intended to be good-natured, it has gone too far.
Let me dispel a couple myths about Fargo:
- Yeah, it’s cold, but it doesn’t feel that cold. I lived in Fargo for eight years, and during that time, I barely wore gloves. This wasn’t because I was a moron or wanted frostbite, I just didn’t really need them. In talking to another North Dakotan who now lives in Providence, both of us have increased the amount of weather “gear” we own since moving east. There is a constant blanket of snow in Fargo from November-April, and that makes it feel warmer, plus, it’s very dry. I feel colder in New England than I ever did in Fargo because here the air here is damp and it gets into your bones. Also, New Englanders don’t seem to know how to heat their houses properly.
- It’s kind of an adventure. My brother put it very succinctly recently when we were talking about the impending flood. “It’s that ‘we’re all in this together’ bit. You put out sandbags, you work with your neighbors, and you know that everyone is putting up with the same thing as you so no one whines about it.” Stoicism in action. Whenever I try to make plans with baby-having best friend, she usually says something like, “well, I won’t be able to go then, we’ll probably be under water.” But she never says it in a ‘woe is me’ way, it’s just a fact of life. Every winter, there will be blizzards and every spring there will be a flood. There might be a couple days of anxiety and a “Floodwatch!” graphic on the local news, but life goes on. In Rhode Island, you get a few snowflakes every year, and everyone flies into a panic.
I may be romanticizing my time in Fargo, and I certainly don’t want to move back there, but I’m also sick of people who don’t know anything about it calling it Frozen Hell on Earth just based on looking at some numbers. If you are a person who is terribly interested in slamming Fargo to everyone within earshot, please, go visit it first. After you’ve been, I will join you in mocking the overabundance of strip malls, and that desolate stretch of road between 32nd ave and 45th street where you seem to run out of city and then meet up with civilization again, or the ridiculous Multiband Tower, which looks more like a blue wart on the Prairie than a tower of any kind. But making fun of the weather? It’s just unimaginative.
I was the last of my really close friends to finally leave Fargo. My group of oldest friends left right after college, and I stuck around for grad school, and then the rest kind of them trickled slowly away. I kept thinking that I would leave immediately after grad school, but I had neither a job nor a plan, and so I lingered for another year and a half saving money and making new friends.
It was an odd position to be in because I was ready to leave, but I had to bide my time since I still wasn’t sure exactly where I would wind up and what I would do when I got there. I felt a little bit embarrassed because among the friends of mine who wanted to leave, I was the last, and that made me feel unambitious in a way. People remarked over and over how they figured I would be the first one to bolt after college, and how weird it was that I stayed. Was I all talk? Would I never finally strike out on my own? Were the visions I’d had in my head of me bouncing from city to city living life to the fullest not something I actually had the guts to do?
Also, there was recently an article in the New York Times entitled Towns They Don’t Want to Leave, which highlights the five college towns that have the highest percentage of graduates remaining there after finishing school, number two is Providence, number four is Fargo– seriously, what are the odds? I’m not saying the New York Times will influence whether I stay in Providence or not, but it’s a bit spooky.
I’ve been in Providence a year now, and I’ve made a lot of wonderful friends, but most of us are students and will have to leave to get real jobs. I actually really like it here and could see myself staying for a while longer, but again, what if I stay primarily because I like my friends, and then they all leave? I really like Providence as a city, but just like I’d been wrestling with the entire time I was trying to decide where to move: do I really know any better? I’ve lived a lot of places, probably more than most, but I’ve lived in very few cities, and the fact that I found one I like right away, makes me feel like I can really be happy anywhere.
When I was in sixth grade, I was pretty miserable. My family had moved about five times at that point, but I had been with the same peer group since kindergarten. I lived in a very small town, and my dad was the High School principal, which meant that people much older than me knew who I was, and I had no clue why they hated me. I was tired of all of my friends and their interests that didn’t link up with mine; I was ready for a change. When my mother told me that they were seriously considering moving, I actually cried because I was so relieved. I had done all I could do in Hallock, MN and I was ready for a change.
I very much have a tendency to hang onto things until I’m ready to leave them, jobs, towns, etc. I didn’t feel very sad to leave Fargo because I wasn’t appreciating anything about it anymore, I just saw it as a place to get away from. Leaving my job at Fargo Public Library was actually the hardest thing, because I didn’t hate it and I’ve never left a job without hating it.
I also don’t hate Providence, but I may have to leave, and that might make it really hard. I like the idea of being a nomad because one of my biggest fears is complacency, but I don’t quite know what to do with actual contentment. What if you are somewhere, and you like it, and all of the professional opportunities you need are at your fingertips– that is what I can’t fathom. What makes a life? What makes a person say “I’m really happy with my life”? That statement always sounds like a death knell for me, but it seems like a very nice thing to say.
I was talking to a friend last weekend about these thoughts I’ve been having.
“So you’re done in May, and then you move– wherever?” he asked.
“Yeah, except back to the Midwest, but yeah.”
“That’s sucks, man, it would be weird not to have you around.” We sat for a beat, taking this all in.
“Well, when are you leaving?” I asked him.