A coworker recently spent a few days biking in Iowa and Minnesota. He passed through the town of Luverne, MN, where I was born. There's not much in Luverne to awe the world-weary traveler, so I didn't know if it would leave an impression on him.
Unfortunately, it did.
He had stopped in Luverne hoping to pick up a book. He told me that he always travels with a paperback, but had forgotten one on this trip. He claims to have gone to ten different places trying to buy a book, but couldn't get one anywhere. People reportedly returned his request with puzzled stares: "You mean, like a storybook?"
Now, some exaggeration is surely involved here: I doubt whether Luverne has ten businesses that would seem even remotely likely to carry novels. Nonetheless, I'm embarrassed that the town of my birth could not provide for my friend's literary needs. This has shamed not only Luverne, but all of southwest Minnesota--even the great state of Minnesota itself.
Loopy's, I'm ashamed of you. Pamida, I used to hold you in such esteem.
12/21: International Chiasmus Day
6 hours ago
2 comments:
Have I told you that my family is from Luverne? Not me personally, nor my parents, but my grandparents both grew up in Luverne.
I believe I knew that you had roots in SW Minnesota.
Post a Comment