Safe in Rockville!

Well, we have ignored R.E.M.'s advice and have Gone Back To Rockville. The trip was uneventful. Jen and I pulled in last night around 9 p.m. Everything was unloaded this morning by a swarm of our friends, to whom we are very grateful.

Here's what led up to it:

Penske, the company that rented us our truck, has a little online quiz if you want to tow a vehicle on one of their trailers. I had planned to drag the Pathfinder back here, as I didn't make any good plans to dispose of it in Fargo. I drove it over to the Penske truckyard and onto the trailer, and discovered that while a 1993 Pathfinder meets the height, weight, width, and length requirements for the Penske 4-wheel trailer, the wheels do not.

The webbing that is supposed to go over the tires and hold the truck to the trailer simply wouldn't fit over the Pathfinder's tires. The Penske guy went back into the office, consulted his system, and said, "It meets all the requirements, but there's a little note there: 'Check tires.'"

So, my fine truck had to be left behind. Ellie is distraught. P. and her husband T. have kindly agreed to handle selling it for us, which is a really big deal, and we thank them. Used vehicles do not have to be inspected before they are resold in North Dakota – it would never pass inspection in Maryland; you fail if you have rust spots!

I think the Pathfinder will have a solid next career as a hunting truck. Older trucks are in high demand in that area in the fall for guys to fill up with sporting gear and take off after deer. It'll be good for that.

Packing up was otherwise without trauma. Well, except for P.'s son E., who we hired along with his brother, his dad, and some of his pals to help us pack up. E. cut his knee on the tin on the back of our washing machine and had to go get stitched up. He had to miss two days (at least) of baseball. It wasn't a very big cut, but it was deep, and was in a place that bled a lot. He dripped all over the sidewalk:

In the end, the 26-foot Penske truck we had rented the year before to take us out there didn't quite cut it, and I had to dash out and rent a U-Haul trailer to get the last bunch of boxes on board.

It looked a little ridiculous, but it worked. I had great misgivings about whether a U-Haul trailer would make the journey in one piece, but it did just fine. The Penske truck had over 100,000 miles on it, and was not real happy taking some of Pennsylvania's hills at any kind of high speed, but it chugged up over each one of them eventually.

Just as the sun was setting, I crossed into Maryland (see right), which is never quite as gratifying as it should be when coming from the West, because it's such a little state, and you feel you really oughta be pretty close to home if you're crossing into Maryland, but really you have about 100 more miles to go.

When Jen and I finally did arrive, we were met by my sister Meg, her husband Griff, and their baby, Benjamin, who was born in March and who I had not yet met. The three of them will be living upstairs for awhile, which we're looking forward to. Also waiting for us were our pals the Hoyes and Mike Detwiler, which made it a very warm welcome. Later, Meg and I walked to Rockville's spanking-new downtown and enjoyed a beer at our new brewpub. Very cool.

The Final Countdown

Well, this is just about it. All the kids have headed back East. Jen and I spent the weekend packing, and we are now awash in a sea of boxes. Judge Bye and his wife held a lovely going-away dinner for the law clerks tonight, and very kindly included me and Jen. My last day of work is tomorrow.

Pinky (right), the Daughter Formerly Known as Katie, had a great time in Alexandria with her Auntie L.J. and Uncle Seth, and has now headed to Atlanta for grandparent time for the next couple of weeks. L.J. and Katie obtained permission to add "a few" pink highlights to Katie's hair; this is what she ended up with, which does not look like "a few" to me, but I'm told I'm overreacting. All I can say is, when the day comes and L.J.'s wee daughter Sylvie, my lovely niece, needs a ride to go get a Mohawk, I'll be there for her.

One really, really sure sign the end is near is that we have started to repeat the events calendar. Jen and I went to the Fargo Street Fair over lunch on Thursday, where we once again bought a big honking bag of kettle corn. This was one of the first things we did when we arrived in town last summer. Here Joey and Ellie were then:

And here they are now:

Judging from the pictures, we are returning the kids to Maryland taller, older, happier, more tan, and a little more clean. I expected a year in Fargo would have most of those effects (particularly "older"), but "more tan" does surprise me.

Though we didn't make it to a Red Hawks game, we did get to the rest of our to-do list – celebrating Ellie's birthday and going to Space Aliens – simultaneously on Friday night:

Here's the main Space Aliens dining room:

Space Aliens is probably the single thing the kids will miss most about Fargo; on Tuesdays, kids eat free and get ten tokens apiece to play video games and win tickets to redeem for valuable prizes. The best part is, they'll provide three kids' meals for every adult meal. Well, this wasn't quite as cool as I'd envisioned; when I took the kids there when Jen was out of town, I ended up sitting at the table by myself for long stretches, keeping guard over hats and coats, usually, while the kids played in the game room.

Joey and I were out until 1 Friday night at Fargo's big Harry Potter book-release party at the Barnes & Noble, the last one ever. Joey wrapped up Book 6 with a few days to spare, and was good and ready. We showed up at 9 p.m. and just squeaked in the door; everyone who arrived a little later had to wait outside until 12:30 or so, when the crowd inside had thinned out. The line stretched two blocks long.

It was quite an event. They took Polaroids of the kids, told their fortunes, had little bottles they could fill up with layers of different colors of sand, and read from the sixth book for the last half-hour before the seventh book was released. At the stroke of midnight, the reader nabbed a copy of Book 7 and started in on that.

They also held a costume contest. Here is Joey practicing his Quidditch moves, as he came dressed as Quidditch-playing Harry:

Here he is after winning second place in the 10-and-under group:

Joey worked out exactly what he wanted to do as he presented himself to the crowd, and executed it nicely. He was well-received by judges and spectators alike. He was awfully proud of himself, and I am proud of him, too.

[Reflecting on the event the next day, I realized that it was the first of many times in my life where one of my children would be the expert at what we were doing and I would be the novice. I could point out those dressed as Dumbledore and Harry, and that was about it. Joey knew the full cast of characters cold, and engaged in intelligent conversation about obscure Potter plot points with grownups.]

Since we were in the third group of those who had reserved books (the 501-750 range!), we had to wait for a good while after midnight to purchase our copies. It was a pretty hellaciously big crowd (for midnight at a bookstore):

The Fargo Barnes & Noble sold 1,000 copies that night.

Ellie and Joey groggily kissed Fargo goodbye – Joey on three hours' sleep – around 4 a.m. Saturday, when Jen drove them to the Minneapolis airport. They flew alone with each other to Baltimore, were picked up by my dad, and are safely on the Maryland beaches.

For my part on Saturday morning, I headed east to Detroit Lakes, where Judge Magill swore me in to the Maryland and Eighth Circuit bars (It was just in time; while I was there, he also signed the papers terminating me as his clerk!):

I chose to embrace the lake setting and dressed casually for the occasion. It was a good choice; it was warm and beautiful at the lakes. I will miss the Magills; they have been warm and gracious to us throughout the year. Judge Magill says he'll miss me; he very well may, but I know for sure he'll miss Ellie; they hit it off really well.

Oh, dear.

It looks like Fargo's winter took more out of the boy than we'd suspected.

Joey's class had their poems – all concerning "The Important Thing" about summer – published on the back of the Forum's sports section today. Joey's classmates cited all sorts of important things about summer: vacations, being able to play, the lack of school, how much fun it is, getting to spend time with family.

And Joey? What does he think is the important thing about summer?:

Here a Year!

We arrived in Fargo a year ago today. I don't have any great insight to attach to this anniversary. We'll be taking off for Maryland two weeks and a day from now. Geez, we have a lot of packing to do.

Here's what's going on in the meantime: I'm wrapping up the last few opinion drafts at work. Jen is trying to get her suitcase back from AirTran, which lost it on her way back here last weekend. Katie is with her Auntie LJ in Alexandria, VA, and will not be back. Joey and Ellie are enjoying one last round of swimming lessons.

Joey is winning the race to finish up Book 6 of the Harry Potter series before Book 7 is released at midnight on July 20. He has been reading all day and all night; when I returned from three days in St. Louis last month, I asked Joey what he'd been doing, and he said he'd been reading Harry Potter. "OK," I replied, "What else did you do?" "Um, nothing else," he said.

We have two copies reserved at the Fargo Barnes & Noble. The plan is for me to go with Joey to this very last Harry Potter release party, bring him back to the house, and catch a few winks of sleep. Then we all leave around 5 a.m. for the Cities so he and Ellie can fly back to Maryland to go to the beach with Grandmas Mary Ellen and Judith. Then Jen and I pack like mad for a few days.

Some things we have to do before we get out of here: Go to Space Aliens one last time. Pack. See a Red Hawks baseball game. Celebrate Ellie's birthday a little early. Finish packing.

For some reason, it hit me hard last night that the milk I was buying doesn't expire until after we're back in Maryland. It's a sure sign the end is near:

Things You Can See in Fargo that You Won't See in Rockville

I've been collecting photos for this post for awhile. (Don't fear – we don't still have snow on the ground here; it was 97 degrees here yesterday.)

Now, this is not a definitive list; it's just things I've noticed. And it's not to say they are unique to the Fargo area, exactly – some may be spotted elsewhere in the Midwest. And it doesn't include things I've written about before, such as sunsets, sun dogs, below-zero temperatures, sugar beets, all-you-can-drink milk, mashed-potato wrestling or the famous fire-hydrant sign with nothing but a fire hydrant on it. But they are cool.  Here goes:

Car plug: OK, this is something I think everyone expected us to see up here, and we did:

This is an electric plug for an oil-pan heater. Outlets are found at some parking lots, but not, as in some places, at every parking spot along every street. I ended up parking inside at the courthouse this year, and we had the garage at home, so we didn't have a need for one. You don't really need them for trips to the grocery store.

Highway gate:

These are swing-out gates at some interstate on-ramps that the police use to close them down. This only happened one time this winter, I think. But out East, there's no mechanism at all for keeping people off interstates; the weather's never enough, and if there's an accident, we just park a police car there.

Roger Maris tributes: Maris is still a hero here in his home town for the record 61 home runs he hit in 1961, breaking Babe Ruth's storied record. He has a museum at the mall (right), and a very impressive homage at the giant Scheel's sporting goods store:

It seems a little silly – Maris' mark has been bested by Barry Bonds, Mark McGuire, and Sammy Sosa – but on the other hand, if Major League Baseball ever decides to wipe its steroids-infected records from the books, Maris may once again be the single-season home-run king.

Snow dumping:

I just thought this was funny – I'd never thought of snow as being something you could litter with. This sign is in Island Park, next to the Y.

Travel agencies:

People flee this town in droves during the winter, and there are travel agencies all over. This one seems to be unusually full-service:

Street Signs. The have some absurdly high-numbered streets around here:

But the funny thing is, it's not in town that they have them – it tends to be out in the middle of absolutely nowhere:

I've seen streets numbered into the 200s. Now that is planning ahead for future growth!

First kid on my block...

I may be the only guy in North Dakota with an iPhone. I kind of ended up with one when I was in Chicago the day they were released.

The Forum, always one to stay on top of larger trends, see "Fargo Star," wrote an article the week before it came out, moaning about how there were no Apple or AT&T stores in Fargo, and AT&T won't write contracts here, so the iPhone wouldn't be available to North Dakotans.

The truth is, it does work here. Not perfectly, but it does work. AT&T's coverage is crappy, but on the bright side I'm costing them money by forcing them to route my calls through other people's cell towers. The reception does seem to be a little better than my old Sony Ericsson phone (which, honestly, did start to die last week and prompt the upgrade), but most of the same dead spots exist for the new machine.  Since we have less than three weeks left here (holy cow!), I think I can put up with it. It worked great in Chicago.

Ka-Boom!

"With the Fourth of July approaching, Fargo police are reminding residents that having, selling or using fireworks within Fargo city limits is prohibited," the Forum reported on June 29.

Have the cops split? They have? Okay, enough of that. On with the show!: "Families shopping for explosive entertainment this Fourth of July are seeking the biggest and brightest burst for their buck, local vendors said," the same newspaper gleefully reported two days later.

We missed this holiday last year, arriving in Fargo on July 12. A few days later I stopped by the fireworks warehouse around the corner from us. North Dakota has funny laws – out-of-staters like us can buy them within the city limits year-round, but North Dakotans can only purchase them for a week or so before and after July 4. I picked up a few items last July and promptly forgot about them in a closet.

Last year, I wondered why the laws were they way they were. Now I know.

These people are nuts for fireworks. Joey, Ellie and I decided to set up chairs on the sidewalk in front of our house instead of crossing the river to see Minnesota State University's show. The show came to us, in 360-degree surround sound. I'd guess a dozen different sites were shooting them off around us – and big ones, too! 

"It'll go all night," our next-door neighbor said a little wearily from his front stoop; indeed, as I write this at midnight, our windows are sill rattling.

The outpouring of amateur rocketry prompted me to dig through the closet and pull out my paper bag of explosives. For one, it seemed like a good occasion for them. And also: I probably don't want to toss them into a moving van in three weeks and drive across the country with them in a 150+ degree moving van.

I checked out my stash – some parachute rockets, three "ladybugs," some things that light up real, real bright instead of exploding or doing anything, and one Mammoth Smoke, the munition of my college years. Without boring you with the details of how I know this, I will just say that Mammoth Smokes are more impressive when set off inside a car driving down an Interstate highway than they are when painted thinly across the vast North Dakota plains.

I kept the kids back at a safe distance, rolled up the windows of the truck and moved it down the street a ways. The very first thing I set off was a ladybug, which spun on the ground for a few seconds before shooting straight into the sky and sparking. I looked up, up, up to see it go, looked down, and there was a Fargo police car stopping in front of me. The officer got out of the car and informed me that all fireworks, including sparklers, were illegal within the city limits. Oops.

The officer then said, to my great relief, that the police's task tonight was to go after the really impressively loud rockets going up all around us, and that I shouldn't expect any more police on my street tonight. Whew! I took this as implicit permission to shoot off my relatively quiet fireworks, and did so.

Watching from home was a good idea. The kids were tired; fireworks can't get going here until 10:30 or so because it stays light so late. The mosquitoes were also out in force, which Joey and Ellie are totally unprepared for – I don't think we saw one bug last summer; this summer is far more typical, and they are ever-present and vicious.

Joey very quickly wearied of slapping bugs off himself, and asked if he could watch the rest of the show from inside.  I think, honestly, that his retreat had to do more with Harry Potter than the bugs. He is in J.K. Rowlings' thrall – most of the way through the fifth book, and trying desperately to finish up everything before the seventh and last book arrives July 20.