A BRIEF LOVE SONG

When the movie "Fargo" came out, people automatically associated the quaint, hickish, backwoods accent and personality traits of the movies stars with North Dakota. If you watch the extras on the DVD or the special edition DVD (I do not remember which), you discover that the movie was based partly on memories of "Minnesota Nice" and that the Coen brothers were originally going to name the movie "Brainerd" -after a small Minnesota town. However, at the end of the day, they felt that the name "Fargo" had more substance with the added benefit of fascination for the movie going public. As I used to like to tell people, "Only the killers were from Fargo. And they didn't sound like back-woods hicks."



I recently posted about Fargo. I obviously am going to post about it again. I was there three weeks ago or so for the AIA North Dakota annual event and, in fact, had the honor of giving a little breakfast speech about our companies products to the architects attending. This room full of women and men were and are past friends, foes and colleagues.



Fargo, as some of you know, is about the flattest area or territory in North Dakota. The "Valley" is the result of a glacier flow from a bygone era. The rich, dark black soil is a result of the same event. The people, on the other hand, are the real event.



I don't mean to wax rhapsodic often, but I fully intend to do so now. I am behind on two or three posts, so if this kind of sing-song praise bothers a person of your constitution, perhaps you may want to skip ahead, Sparky.



I drove by the house I once lived in behind a pizza joint. The small apartment was the low point of my existence so far. The neighbor in the apartment next door subsidized his food with wild edible berries and plants that grew by the nearby railroad tracks. He would go on daily summer and early fall journeys to see what he could salvage from the plants. He built small wooden crosses and decorated them with flowers. We shared a bathroom at the end of the hall and the water came out of the shower head in fitful spurts, a thin pencil like stream, or not at all. I lived off of either Ramen noodles or potatoes -depending on my affluence by the day or week. I slept on the floor in an old sleeping bag that my father had bought for me while I was an active member of Boy Scout Troop 32 years before. Life pretty much sucked and, for the longest time, I associated my lack of funds, lack of food and lack of a decent living standard with North Dakota in general and Fargo in particular. Many years later I learned that I should have been associating those life polemics with me and not with location.



Shortly after the pizza house living experience, my life turned around and I moved to Portland, Oregon. I lived there for a few years and then returned to North Dakota to pursue an architecture degree. When I arrived back in North Dakota, as now, I would drive by that house and feel a sense of dread and foreboding -I didn't want to return to that place called Scarcity. (Thank the good Lord above, I haven't as of this posting.) I tell you all of this because it is never easy for me to return to North Dakota due to some of those dark and brooding memories. And yet...



North Dakota is one of the most underrated states in the union. As you fly in or out of eastern ND, the lakes of Minnesota start to give way to the prairie-quilt of farmland. And like the visual warmth one can take from a quilt, the people are, for the most part, warm and friendly. I tell people that the people in the South are more polite than those that live in North Dakota, but the North Dakota people are more friendly and accepting of outsiders.



The land ranges from the stark, at first blush, to the dynamic shapes and forms of the badlands in the West. The rolling prairie on I-94 will lull you to sleep, like a baby carriage, if you let someone else drive and relax. Sleeping, however, would be a mistake. For even in the flat East side of the state, there is a great exuberance and diversity of life in those fields, rivers and shelter belts. The deer and raccoon and ducks and geese and fox and the occasional moose (I saw one in North Dakota) will be in those fields in greater numbers than you may imagine. The fields will go from greens and browns to golds, silvers and rust colors. Purple will dance among the gold like some sort of royal procession and everywhere you turn, at every stop, you will find the people.



At first the people may appear simple or naive to you. This too would be a mistake on your part. Like the hard cold January winds that blow through this part of the country, these people are strong and hearty to the core. They will think nothing of shoveling feet of snow, going to work all day, coming home and shoveling some more. Many of these people will have two or three jobs at a time while managing their homes, their families and the elements of nature. At one time, when I was a kid, North Dakota had more millionaires per population than any other place in the country. This was due in part to the low population of the state and also due to the fact that when a farmer gets done paying off millions of dollars worth of equipment and land, he is in fact a millionaire -if not only on paper. The East Germans have a cliche about being smart like a dumb potato farmer... a lot of well fed farmers out there. Some may say, "Millionaires and farmers aside, why would you live there? Why would you want to shovel snow twice in one day?" The residents will say that it comes down to a standard of living. More often than not, what they mean is that it comes down to a very low crime rate and outstanding people. As far as the snow is concerned, they will say only half joking, "It keeps the riff-raff out."

Speaking of riff-raff, when crime appears in North Dakota the people stop and stare and talk about it. When crime happens in the big city, people change the channel. If I had power beyond imagination I would do two things: I would transport the entire state of North Dakota to the freeways of California, New Jersey and a few other places and teach them how to drive. I would also transport the entire United States (in small handfuls) to North Dakota and teach them how to be real, honest and humane.

Suffice to say that this is one exit that is very close to me and one that I highly recommend that you take. You can multiply that statement by ten if you are talking about central and western North Dakota. Next time you are driving through North Dakota -don't. Drive into North Dakota and stay a while.

PHOTOS TO BE POSTED SOON

Disclaimer: The North Dakota Department of Tourism is not paying me for these kinds words. These words are lofted out there for the world to see based on a deep-seated love for the state. However, if you are with the NDDoTourism, my mailing address is...

DICE BIRD REDEUX

GREETINGS and salutations, race fans. It's been a long, long, long time and I have been remiss in my duties of keeping you posted. Just when you started thinking, Gee, what happened to that guy? OR Gee, I'm glad that guy isn't "updating" me every flippin' week. VOILA! Here I am. Nice to see you again, OR sorry about all this.

The week before the week I did my two-fer to Vegas and Phoenix, I went to Charlotte to see a man about a horse. Or about a job with our company as our North Carolina representative. I had some good photos of Charlotte, as well as some stellar snaps of a nice industrial plant south of Raleigh, but, for some inexplicable reason, I can not find the photo file right now. If I find them, I will post them. All I can say right now is: North Carolina is cool. Poetic, huh?

At any rate, two weeks ago I did a double header to Las Vegas and Phoenix. I slipped the Phoenix trip into the Vegas trip because it is cheaper for me to fly to Phoenix from Vegas than it is from North Carolina. Vegas is what it is. I think I have already mentioned my opinion of Craptacular Lost Wages. However, allow me to say that there seems to be a nicer and easier feel to the Wynn than pretty much any other place in the town with the possible exception of "The Hotel" which is directly behind Mandalay Bay. The Wynn has this fairly jaw dropping water wall off it's main casino area. The bar between the slots and the water wall is expensive but nice. Like everything else in Las Vegas, you are on display when you drink there. Our Vegas rep and I had a drink while waiting for our reservation at one of the Wynn's restaurants... I forget the name. The surprising thing was that the price was actually very decent for the quality of the food. We were not approached by any prostitutes either, which can be a little bit uncomfortable without a salad fork in your hand and much more so with one.

When I left the Wynn, I went to the valet area where I dropped IT off. Wynn was busy like most places and there was a wait for the ride. As I stood there under the oversized lamps that look a lot like the thing my dad had on our cabinet TV back in the '70s, I could hear the tires screaching in the parking garage beneath us. You would hear this screaching and then count to four or five before seeing the headlight patterns on the wall of the up ramp. The valets were reving the living urine out of these Hummers, BMWs, Escalades, etc. And yet, not one of the patrons failed to tip the kid who had just tested the handling on their very exensive vehicle. While waiting I saw the same tall, sunglassed prostitute that I had seen earlier in the night. Her date this time around fit the same demographic as her earlier date: Short, balding and on the cusp of senior citizenship. Busy night all the way around at the Wynn. I waited for the squealing of my rental car, but the squealing never arrived. I guess that you can rod the living piss out of a Toyota Corrola and still not squeal the tires. I laughed. And no, I am not sure how to spell "Corrola." I laughed again as all the people waiting for the Italian, German, British and American luxury cars looked at me like an interloper in their midst. I walked fast but not too fast, as if to say, "That's right, baby. The really, really smart money." I tipped the kid and took my time playing with the GPS system while the window was still down. DESTINATION... pause... "CITY OR STREET ADDRESS"... Then I rolled up the window and drove slowly away. Of course, like everything in that town, it was all an act. Why? Because earlier that evening, when we finished din-din and said our goodbyes, I strolled over to the sports book section of the casino and gave Mr. Wynn $10 through one of his minions. What for, you ask? That my beloved and somewhat cursed Seahawks will make it to the SuperBowl. "Smart money," my butt. Oh well. I can frame the ticket and say at iffy cocktail parties with iffy conversation, "I placed a bet with my bookie on the Hawks." Imagine the stares one would get?

The next day I flew to Phoenix and back to Vegas in the same day. My sole purpose was to find a rep for Arizona for us and I had some hot leads. I ended up on Camelback and not too far from Scottsdale. I actually enjoyed it much, much more than the last time I was there. And, I have always dug Scottsdale due to the Frankster's establishing Taliesin West out there. I won't tell you my deep seated beliefs about Frank's personal side, I wouldn't want to offend you too much in one sitting, but suffice to say that even the most insane egomaniacs (not to be confused with those crased breakfast fans -Eggo-maniacs) can do some amazing things.

Anywho, the trip was a bust for finding the rep, but successful for determining who not to hire. And, a nice and kind soul gave me a heads up about one potential hire who couldn't make it and that individual looks promising. So, I will probably be in Phoenix again soon.

I drove past what I think was a gas station. My favorite form in the formal world of architecture, the three side pyrmidal form, was self-evident in all of it's past and neglected present glory. I only had five seconds to get two crappy shots off. I post them here for you anyway. This started me thinking about the house addition I just designed for a friend. Not a three sided form in sight. Same could be said for the drawing and painting studios I am designing for my own little utopia outside of Raleigh. The three sided form must be used with discernment, I thought. You shouldn't just pull it out willy nilly like some museum designers seem to be doing lately. Or mess with it's formal characterizations, like a lot of goof balls have. No, dang it! It needs to be handled with care and made into something important. Like a 1950s gas station type of building. I was just thinking this thought and one about getting back into the architectural game on the original side of the pencil when I rolled up behind the van that is photographed above. DESIGNER/DRIVER... And a third career contender raises it's monotone white head! Hmm.... For now, I think I will stick with the gig I have. It's a great gig. And besides, without it, who would send you email telling you the blog has been updated?

I flew back to Vegas. The next morning, flying out on my way home to NC, I snapped the photo in negative above. The stools in front of the slots look like tombstones. Another "deep thoughts" moment.

Until next time, keep your design intent pure and your van's tire pressure checked.

-Gulliver

Disclaimer: There is nothing wrong with Eggos. You don't have to be crazy or insane or even stupid to enjoy them. They may even be healthy -if you use organic syrup and have been wasting away at some base camp in the mountains for a few weeks.