A Minnesota definition of real winter
Minnesota natives wear their fortitude for winter like a badge of courage.
I know this because I am from Minnesota. So are a lot of other Flathead Valley residents, and they know exactly what I'm talking about.
It's not a stretch to say Minnesotans invented winter. I'm talking REAL winter, not the slushy above-zero weather we're generally accustomed to here in the Flathead. Minnesota winters are as pure and unadulterated as anything I've ever experienced.
In the northern tier of the Gopher State (why it's not the Mosquito State I don't know, but that's another story) it's not uncommon for the mercury to dip below zero in January and stay there for days and even weeks at a time.
You've not known cold if you haven't experienced running to the neighbor's house in minus-30 degree weather after your car has broken down on the way home. The time I had car trouble the wind was also blowing at least 25 miles per hour, making the dreaded wind chill roughly 200 below zero. And I had only nylon stockings protecting my legs.
As expected, my mother reprimanded me for not dressing for the weather. I was 19 or 20 at the time, and certainly old enough to know better than going out in the middle of January wearing pantyhose and a short skirt.
When my brothers and I were younger, Mom would bundle us up every morning for our northward trek to catch the school bus. (It was about two miles, uphill, if I recall). On the coldest days she'd wrap one scarf around the bottom of our face, and another across our forehead so that only our eyes were exposed to the frigid blast of air that awaited.
It still amazes me that it never occurred to us to ask for a ride to the bus stop on the coldest of the cold days. Did it build character to tromp around in subzero weather? Maybe. It did give us the right to brag about it later in life.
We simply took winter in stride, and spent a lot of time ice skating and sledding, in between blizzards that would shut down schools for three or four days at a crack.
One of the first things non-natives associate with Minnesota is its frigid winters. International Falls, on the northern border, routinely is the coldest spot in the country this time of year. The coldest temperature on record in Minnesota is reportedly a minus 60-degree reading taken in the town of Tower in 1996. If that doesn't give you bragging rights, I don't know what does.
On New Year's Eve last Friday, when the wind was blowing and temperature had dropped to single digits in the Flathead Valley, it was as close as I've been to a Minnesota winter in awhile. As I walked, or sprinted rather, from my car to a party site, I fought off the urge to boast to friends, "Where I come from, this is nothing…"
Yes, we Minnesotans like to brag about our cold-winter heritage. It's our claim to fame as much as our alleged sing-songy Scandinavian accent.
"Oh, yer from Minnie-sooota," they'll croon upon meeting a Minnesota native.
I've defended my home statesmen on more than one occasion, spouting, "Vell, I don't know vat yer talking about. Vee have no accent, ya know."
OK, so maybe some of us talk funny.
The longer we're away from Minnesota, though, the more normal we sound in most cases. But being away from Minnesota has also made us Flathead transplants soft. Admit it. We haul our kids to school in warm, cozy SUVs. We complain along with the rest when the temperature drops below zero. We're now warm-winter creatures. Minus 30 seems unfathomable.
Would we go back to Minnesota in mid-January for a nostalgic fling in the cold? Not on your life!
It's way too cold there … ya know.
Features editor Lynnette Hintze may be reached at 758-4421 or by e-mail at lhintze@dailyinterlake.com