For the first time in a while, I don’t have anything to write about. Not that this is a bad thing, and not that I’ve finally run out of topics, but it’s Monday evening and I’ve finished exercising and at this point nothing interests me quite as much as lying on the futon or my bed and going to sleep. Still, the blog must have its entry. So what I’ve decided to write about is a uniquely Midwestern topic—Sunday.
For me, Sundays are not bad. I wake up fairly early, drive an hour to Rochester, Minnesota to practice Kendo for an hour and a half at the YMCA, stagger out at the end, and either have lunch or take in a movie at Rochester’s southernmost mega cinema, then drive back to Cresco and enjoy a Sunday afternoon. It’s rather peaceful, with the exception of the hour and a half of martial arts practice.
The Midwest seems to feel the same way about Sundays, northeast Iowa in particular. Very few shops are open in Cresco and Decorah on Sunday. The chain stores are open, yes, and they close up respectably early on Sunday, but the town grocery store is closed on Sunday. It’s a little jarring if you discover you’re out of, say, chicken for your chicken salad sandwich and decide to make a quick grocery run. The nearest place that resembles a grocery store would be the Wal-Mart in Decorah, about a half-hour away. I don’t mind this, per se—going into a Wal-Mart is the easiest way to feel like you’re in a bigger town than you actually are, and I highly recommend walking through one if you get homesick for your city. Still, the difference between a two-block walk and a half-hour drive is about an hour’s difference. Besides, once I go into a Wal-Mart after driving a half-hour to get there, I feel the need to actually buy some things to justify driving half an hour to get there. I say this to offer a partial explanation for why, in one trip, I bought Romeo Must Die from the five dollar movie bin.
I can’t complain too much about the towns closing on Sundays, though, even though it can be aggravating to have the newest Decorah bookstore always be closed on Sundays, when you most feel like taking the time to walk into a bookstore and browse. Having the town close down, though, gives a sense of peace that urban areas have to work harder to obtain. When you walk the streets of Rochester on a Sunday, for instance, you see people walking with purpose, from one place to another. If you go into Rochester’s mall, you’ll see thousands of people all hurrying to get their shopping in, their meals eaten and the mall’s selected entertainment of the month experienced before the weekend ends. It’s entertaining to see how orderly hectic a mall is on the weekend, but only if you are not a part of it.
Walking down Decorah’s main street, though, is much more relaxing. You have some people parked on the street and you do meet a few people, but they aren’t hurrying anywhere. They’re strolling, which is becoming a lost art not even practiced by parents pushing strollers. These people are going somewhere, and they do feel the need to get to their destination. It doesn’t control them, however. They don’t have a reservation they need to guard like lions guard their kill on the veldt. They don’t place more value on the destination than the journey. Instead, they’re enjoying the walk, looking at other people and smiling at some of the more standalone shops on the main street. You can enjoy yourself walking in Decorah. When you get to Rochester, you just need to be at your destination. Which is a shame, as I think Rochester could do with more people who strolled through it.
Actually, the Mayo Clinic is a fine place for strolling. If you happen to walk through it during the day, you’ll see several people who are patients there, or they have people they know who are patients, and when you are in either group, you have to wait. Wait for tests, wait for the diagnosis, wait for the cure to work or wait to die. The waiting can drive you insane if you aren’t careful, and the people at the Mayo Clinic seem to have recognized this. This is why the hallways are lined with art and sculpture, from abstract streaks of paint on twenty-foot tall canvases to intricately-carved sculptures of children on dolphins. The lobbies even have grand pianos that invite anyone to play, and several classically-trained pianists come along in a week, playing a concerto. Occasionally, they bring friends with other instruments, and the melody lingers in the hallways, encouraging people to continue strolling, until the waiting is done. As a visitor it can be quite pleasant.
I’m not sure which state I prefer. I love strolling, and I think it’s a shame that people don’t stroll more often. I do, however, love sitting in a public square and watching people hurry to and fro, leaving somewhere on their way to somewhere else. For me, it’s a calming, comforting feeling, that there are thousands of happy people in this area, busy living their lives and going to someplace that, hopefully, will fulfill them somehow, even if it’s just to the drugstore to buy a soda.
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