The Spirit of the Woods

When I moved to Minnesota in 1973, Teresa and I lived in St. Paul for three years before moving to Wannaska. Every year in late August Teresa insisted we go to the State Fair. I was an East Coast sophisticate and didn’t properly appreciate the Fair. 

  One thing I did like was the guy with the tiger. This would never be allowed nowadays but for five dollars the guy would give you a heavy coat and a head start then he let the tiger go. The tiger always won. My strategy would have been to lose the coat for more speed. I was a new husband and Teresa wouldn’t let me try it even though you’d get your five bucks back if you beat the tiger. 

  Once we moved north, we didn’t get back to the Fair till about ten years ago. I’m enough of a redneck now to think that the Fair is the greatest show on earth. I’ve noticed some major changes at the Fair over the years. During my earlier visits the only tattooed people were the carnies and military lifers.  Biker dudes scorned the Fair. Nowadays, ink has been splattered over my fellow fair goers as liberally as paint at a paint ball park. 

  I’ve also noticed the effects of fifty years of selling fat and sugar on a stick. Being a bag of bones myself, I envy those who can pack on the pounds at will. It takes some stamina to wade through the crowds for eight hours on a sweltering day at the Fair.  But thanks to advances in the electric scooter industry it now takes no effort at all.

  Most of the scooters are trikes, with broad seats and capacious baskets. The deluxe scooters rival Cleopatra’s barge,  beeping their gentle horns as the river of people parts before them. It helps that it’s become shameful to fat-shame anyone. That's another change. The scooter rentals at the Fair have enabled many otherwise disabled people to share the fun. 

  The passage of time has brought Teresa and me to the fifty year mark. She suggested we go someplace special this year, so on the big day, September 8, we headed east towards an old-school resort called Nanibouzou on Minnesota’s North Shore of Lake Superior up near the Canadian border. 

  Minnesota is as wide across its top third as it is from north to south and it took all day to get from Wannaska to big Lake Gitche Gumee. According to a promotional postcard in our room, Babe Ruth, Jack Dempsey, and Ring Lardner used to come to Nanibouzhou to do God only knows what. Did they go fishing together? Shoot moose? I don’t know. I couldn't look it up because there was no wifi and no cell service. 

  I knew in advance this would be the situation so I brought a book I’ve wanted to read for years. Medieval Thought from Aquinas to Ockham by Gordon Leff for one. This stuff fascinates me. But Professor Leff uses big words and I didn’t bring a dictionary. I went down to the solarium hoping Ring might have left his dictionary behind, but no such luck. 

  During the day we went to the tourist hotbed of Grand Marais. Wherever there are tourists there will be cell service and I was able to take care of business. Back at the resort I was again thrown upon my own resources. I felt pathetic being so dependent on the Internet but I realize I've become dependent because everyone else is that way too. 

  There was a phone in the lobby but no one answers their phone. And no one is waiting for my letter. If I’m not online I’ll soon be forgotten. “Whatever happened to old what’s his name?” people will wonder and they'll search online for my obit. In the end I’m grateful to Naniboujou (Spirit of the Woods) for this insight.