I’m rarely in town for the State Fair, and this year have thoroughly enjoyed soaking up this much-part of North Dakota’s summer
IYKYK
IYKYK. Have you seen this cluster of letters floating through the expanse of social media feeds and stories? Total transparency: The first time I saw it I googled it. To save you the trouble, I’ll just tell you what it means. “If you know, you know.” IYKYK.
I’ve come to love this expression and its initialism, because Hot Dish Territory is such an IYKYK kind of place. There are so many things that happen around here that sound utterly absurd until you’ve seen them firsthand. Other states and towns may get jazzed about major events and attractions—the draw of which can be easily explained.
Here, we’re busy vying for books at the library sale, waiting in line for a balloon from Dizzy the Clown, and sharing a passion for bars. Let’s be clear on the last one: The “bars” I’m referring to are desserts cut into squares and served on napkins; most often seen at potlucks and funerals. IYKYK.
Try explaining any of these to someone who isn’t from around here, and it won’t make sense until they see it with their own eyes. Even then, it still might not compute.
So, what’s the most IYKYK thing in North Dakota? In my opinion, it’s not sunflower fields, breathtaking sunsets, Lawrence Welk, the odd definition of an “open-faced sandwich,” or even an insistence on saying Sa-KAK-a-WEE-ah, Sakakawea, instead of Sak-UH-jo-WEE-ah, Sacagawea, like the rest of the country.
Daryl’s Racing Pigs is celebrating their 35th year. They are a long-time staple of State Fair entertainment.
No. I think the most “if you know, you know” part of living in North Dakota is the thrill and elation associated with Daryl’s Racing Pigs. If you’re local, you’re probably nodding your head. If you aren’t from around here you are probably wrinkling your forehead in confusion.
Picture this: cute piglets line up and race around a sawdust track. There are two races, each taking about 20 seconds to complete, during the 30-minute show.
Now do you get it? Do you see why locals love it so much?
No? That’s because you’ve got to see it. You’ve got to be there to really understand.
What’s the deal with the pigs?
At first, you may be shocked to see the bleachers around the miniature track completely packed before the race begins. Then, when you find a place to squeeze in, you start to feel the buzz of anticipation. The pigs come out, and you’re a little surprised at just how cute they are. Before you know it, you are cheering for a pig race, laughing at Daryl’s jokes, and crossing your fingers in hopes of winning a t-shirt. After only 30 minutes of observing the pig race, you’ve firmly decided you would definitely, and proudly, wear a Daryl’s Racing Pigs shirt. And you’re a little bummed when you don’t win. I’m speaking from experience, here.
As you navigate the dispersing crowd you tell yourself, “There’s always next year.” Suddenly, you get it. Now, you’ve seen the pigs. You’ll be back. Now you know.
The 2022 State Fair marks 35 years of Daryl’s Racing Pigs. As long as I’ve been living, tiny pigs have been delighting audiences with their adorable ability to run in circles. Children who grew up watching pig races are now bringing their children to the stands, making it equal parts tradition, nostalgia, and genuine thrill.
It may not be a million-dollar act for America’s Got Talent, but boy-oh-boy, it’s entertaining. After listening to a list of entertainment options, Daryl’s Racing Pigs was the one thing my four-year-old repeatedly reminded me he wanted to see. Their 5:30 p.m. show was the cornerstone to our fair-going experience. And let me say, we were not disappointed. IYKYK.
Waiting for the much-anticipated start of a cute little pigs race.
There’s nothing better than allowing yourself to get completely excited by something beautifully simple and quirky. There’s nothing better than living in a place where that kind of excitement is cultivated and kept sacred.
Whether it’s racing pigs, or clowns, or lefse, or something totally different, I’m sure you’ve got your own IYKYK thing. Hang on to it tightly, and savor the mundane glee it so effortlessly generates.
To connect with me, see how I spend my days in Minot, or tell me your own IYKYK, find me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
Last weekend we visited Rapid City. During the days we crammed in tourist activities. We hit Bear Country, Reptile Gardens, and Old McDonald’s Farm. We ate ice cream at Mount Rushmore and browsed Who’s Toy House downtown. In the evening we visited local friends over meals and later watched our children romp through their yards until the sun started to dip into the hills.
“How’s Minot?” My Rapid City friends would ask. “You make it look so fun on your Instagram stories.”
“It’s great. So fun — it’s just such a weirdly wonderful place,” I’d say. Then I’d weave tales of Trash Christmas and story time at Main Street Books. I talked about weekly trips to the zoo, my appreciation for the causal and low-cost kids’ sports programs, and how I’m looking forward to root beer floats at MSU’s Summer Theatre. When given the opportunity, I can gush about all the things that make life in the Magic City so sweet.
“You should come visit,” I tell my friends. The offer is sincere, but I know it’s unlikely that many will come. And that’s okay. I get it. I have many things to say about life in Minot, but this may top the list:
Minot is a great place to come home to.
I’ll never push to have Minot added to a list of America’s best vacation destinations. You won’t hear me claim Minot is a must-see city.
That’s okay. It doesn’t mean I love it any less.
My family loves welcoming guests. I adore showing them around and taking them along as we do life here in Hot Dish Territory. When friends and family come to visit, they are always pleasantly surprised by how much there is to do and how busy we stay.
Minot is a great place to come home to, but it’s not a vacation destination.
As a newcomer, if you can wrap your head around that truth, you’ll be free to enjoy Minot for exactly what it is: a great hometown.
My child taking in the sights at Mount Rushmore. [Photo: Amy Allender]
The Rhythm Of Life
So while we enjoyed our days in the Black Hills, I also enjoyed cresting the hill on 83 to see Walmart and the sign for Lucy’s Amusement Park in the distance. I knew home was almost within reach. Familiarity began to wrap itself around me like a worn cardigan. Minot.
My family is on the brink of many big changes. Maybe you are too. That’s the nature of life. Nothing stays the same for very long. If I think too hard about the months to come, my stomach turns flips and I feel queasy.
Then I take a few deep breaths and look around. Once I pull myself back into the present moment, the familiar rhythm of life in Hot Dish Territory is like a white-noise machine in a nursery. Soothing and comfortable.
The trains in the distance and the traffic on Broadway sound like an old song. We’ll go to the library today and the zoo tomorrow. In the morning, I’ll hear the rapid tap-tap-tapping of a pesky woodpecker trying to drill into our eaves. I know what time mail arrives and who brings it. If the weather is nice, I’ll ask the neighbors to come play, and we’ll watch the boys get dirty and sweaty until dangerously close to bedtime. On Sunday, a friend will come for dinner. After dessert we’ll offer lengthy Midwest goodbyes after slapping our knees and saying, “Whelp…” Even the unruly howl of the wind and the easy small talk about the weather creates a cadence of home.
These aren’t the sounds of vacation, but they are beautiful nonetheless.
No, Minot isn’t America’s number one summer vacation locale, but it’s a really great place to come home to.
To connect with me, see how I spend my days in Minot, or get a little more positivity for your day, find me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
The van’s bright yellow exterior, accented by pastel, candy-colored sun rays immediately grabbed my attention. My children were more focused on the massive bubbles being blown in front of the Oak Park amphitheater. I followed, but kept side-eyeing that lovely van, wondering what sort of brilliant idea may be operating out of its large windows.
This at the Build-A-Bubble event hosted by Minot Parks and Recreation. The evening was perfect. Not too warm. Not too buggy. Not too humid.
Families with kids ranging in age from barely-able-to-walk to barely-legal-to-drive, gathered around tubs of bubble liquid on the lawn. Music played, and we all attempted to create six-foot bubbles from dowel rods and string.
My youngest, now 21 months old, was most drawn to the amphitheater stage where a bubble machine was filling the air with small, perfectly-poppable orbs. Meanwhile, I kept glancing at the crowd on the hill near the van.
Then, a gentle voice said, “Would you like to pet the dog?”
Immediately, I recognized one of the trainers and dogs from the Reading Education Assistance Dogs Program, or READ, we’ve attended at the library. My sons quickly, eagerly accepted the invitation.
After I thanked the trainer, she said, “Be sure to go up to the van. They’ve got free ice cream for kids.” At this, my four-year-old took off running. “And books,” she added. “Each child gets to choose a book.”
Sometimes You Can Trust a Strange Van
Hello Sunshine: Ice Cream and Books. Now that we weren’t bee-lining toward bubbles I could read the text on the side of the van.
A woman at the window pointed toward neatly sorted bins and shelves of books that created an open-air library.
“Go pick a book, then come back to the window for ice cream. The book acts like a ticket for your treat,” she said.
So we did. And it was wonderful. And we’ve read those books many times since.
But I can’t stop thinking about that evening spent in the park, and the gosh-darn-goodness of it all. I can’t shake the giddy awe, the grateful excitement I feel just to be alive, and living in Minot, North Dakota at this very moment in time.
If you are from here, moments dripping with kindness and creativity may seem commonplace. Maybe you don’t notice the unusually high number of good ideas that get off the ground around here. The quirky ways people care for each other may be easy to overlook if you are used to seeing them.
Let me assure you, it’s not like this everywhere.
My youngest son at the Build-A-Bubble event at Oak Park. (Photo: Amy Allender/The Dakotan)
Keep the Good Ideas Coming
I go back to the Build-A-Bubble event because it encapsulates so many good things in one concise instance:
A van that offers free books and ice cream to children in high-needs neighborhoods and park events—because a successful way to improve reading skills among low-income children is to make books more accessible—is not something you’ll find in just any town. It’s an idea, spearheaded by a passionate elementary school teacher, and embraced by a community because around here, creative kindness is welcome.
A Parks Department brimming with ideas, that make living in NoDak unbelievably enjoyable.
Trainers with therapy dogs that show up at events, schools, and even the university finals week—because petting a calm dog is soothing, and happiness inducing.
The good ideas don’t stop there. There are too many to name in one location, and new ideas are taking shape all the time. I can’t keep up with them all. We’ve got free story times, sensory-friendly movie screenings, a diaper pantry, a free shower program, free pregnancy ultrasounds, and community lunch offered nearly every day of the week.
This is a place that lets good ideas grow. This is a place that gets behind creative ways to make life nicer, more bearable, kinder.
Friends, candy-colored vans are passing out ice cream and books to children on hot, summer evenings. What a time to be alive!
Whether you are in North Dakota, or just wish you were—don’t let the goodness around you go unnoticed. Support good ideas when you see them. If you’ve got a good idea of your own, be brave enough to try it out.
To connect with me, see how I spend my days in Minot, or get a little more positivity for your day, find me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
Hauling items for Trash Christmas out of my creepy basement [Photo: Amy Allender]
One Man’s Trash…
Something magical week is nearly upon us in the Magic City. It’s that special time of year that yields surprises, laughter, and neighborly cheer. It’s an emotional rollercoaster of loss, joy, victory and disappointment. It’s one of the traditions I found incredibly odd when I was a naive newcomer, and one that has become something I await with anticipation.
I’m talking about Spring Clean Up Week. Or as I like to call it: Trash Christmas.
If you’re new, let me fill you in. Minot holds two Clean Up Weeks each calendar year, one in the spring and one in the fall. During these weeks you can put nearly anything out on your curb and the city will come collect it for you. Large items you’d normally need to haul to the dump or arrange for pickup (for a fee) are taken away free of charge. It’s a great service to the community.
But like most things in Minot, this bulk-waste collection has quirks.
Clean Up Week is really a thinly veiled chance for us pick through one another’s cast offs.
I was caught off guard during my first Clean Up Week. I’d see cars slowly driving around the neighborhood, stopping to survey discarded items along the curb. At first I thought it was an isolated incident. But then I noticed car after car doing the same thing. Spring and fall they came, sifting through furniture, shelving units, grills and cabinets. They came in pickups, beaters, nice SUVs and family vans. All kinds of people, all walks of life.
That’s when I realized: looking at each other’s junk during Clean Up Week is a thing here. This is something people do around here. Is this place for real?
The learning curve of life in Minot can be awfully steep sometimes.
Once I realized Clean Up Week was an unglorified thrift-fest, I skeptically got on board. When I pulled over to put a metal shelf for my basement in the back of my Equinox, I felt awkward and uncivilized.
Is this really okay? Shouldn’t I pay someone for this?
“Need help loading that?” a man across the street hollered.
“No. It just seems weird. I just take it?” I replied.
“Yep. It’s all going to the dump, otherwise. Better you using it than sitting in the landfill, right?”
He was right.
I dubbed the event, Trash Christmas — a name which has stuck so well, my four year old son frequently asks if Trash Christmas is coming soon, and what we have to put out for Trash Christmas.
We have gotten a lot of mileage out of a sandbox I scored at last Spring Trash Christmas. [Photo: Amy Allender]
Once you know that Clean Up Week is really Trash Christmas, your perspective changes. Suddenly, you’ll feel a little disappointed if no one even stops to look at your curb pile. They took Janet’s plastic planters, but no one is even stopping to consider the only partially broken cabinet from our bathroom remodel?
…is Another Man’s Treasure
You’ll feel the adrenaline rush of discovering a perfectly good — if very faded — Fisher Price picnic table while out on a walk. Will it still be there when you come back with a car? While driving back, you notice a nearly pristine garden bench. You only have room for one. Do you take the bench, betting the picnic table has already been snatched? Do you gamble leaving the bench in hopes you’ll have outdoor seating for your kids? How will you choose? And, wait — is that a carry-on suitcase across the street? Could that bit of red be a Little People barn down the block?
The excitement rivals that of Daryl’s Racing Pigs at the state fair or passive aggressively vying for books at the library sale.
A friend asked if I could pick up these Little People castles during Fall Trash Christmas when she couldn’t get there before the city collection date. [Photo: Amy Allender]
Trash Christmas has given me shelving units, a grill, the blackout curtains hanging in my bedroom (still in their package with tags on!), benches for my yard, a Fisher Price work bench for my kids. It’s magical. You never know what you’ll see out there.
Trash Christmas brings out the best of our thrifty Midwest ways and I’m here for it. Let it bring out your inner dumpster diver. And if you just can’t do it, please remember to bring your unwanted junk to the curb so the rest of us can see if we need any of it. At the very least, grab a soda and watch as cars crawl through neighborhoods and drivers crane their necks to get a good look at what might be sitting along the street.
To connect with me further or let me in on any good trash piles, join me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
On Saturday, Minot’s teenagers will dress to the nines and scoot off to prom. Which means, this the perfect time to chat about an outsiders take on Hot Dish prom.
Before going further, let me be candid. I love prom. Though my prom years are long passed, I still carry an affinity for the formal wear, flowers and late 90s/early 2000s movies with elaborate prom scenes.
When we first moved to Minot, my husband and I volunteered with our church youth group. As spring drew near, I got excited just thinking about how fun it would be to have high school girls to chat about prom with. I’d live vicariously through photos of their dresses and Pinterest boards of hairstyles and jewelry. It would be nostalgic and girly and delightful.
Then one evening in February, while closing out Wednesday night youth group, one of the girls called out to me. “Amy, do you wanna see a picture of my prom dress? It just came in!”
This took me aback as the temperature was well below zero and I was clad in snow boots and flannel. “Whoa, you’re really ahead of the game, aren’t you? I always procrastinate when it comes to stuff like that,” I said. Prom had to be months away, right?
“What do you mean? Prom is only a couple weeks from now,” she said. Then she walked over and we flipped through photos of a dazzling, ice-blue gown.
Amy at prom in 2005 [Photo: submitted by Amy Allender]
That’s when I learned they do prom a little differently here.
I had assumed prom would take place closer to the end of the school year — not teeter on the edge of winter. But like many of my assumptions about life in NoDak, I was wrong.
Where I come from, prom is one of the last events of the year. My school district typically held prom over Mother’s Day weekend. Where I come from, by May spring has decidedly arrived for good. Mother’s Day weekend is typically warm — even in the evening. Warm enough to accommodate strapless gowns without needing wear a jacket over the top.
Here, where freezing temps and snow are notorious for staying around well into April (and a May snowstorm isn’t unheard of) — prom is held early in spring.
When I first learned prom often happens in March (although this year it falls to the first week of April), I had one thought: Okay, but why?
Why host an event tailored toward bare arms and plunging necklines when winter hasn’t even faded from view? Why not just wait? Why doesn’t anyone around here think this is weird?
I’ll never know the answer. I may never stop wondering or experiencing empathy chills for all those who head to prom weeks before the Easter bunny dares to venture out.
“You’re coming to Grand March, right?” asked the girl with the ice-blue dress. I paused while my forehead wrinkled. I had a feeling admitting I’d never heard of a Grand March was going to be as awkward as the time I admitted I had no idea what SnapChat was.
I was right.
The girls around us laughed with good-humored indignation as they explained “Grand March” to me — a girl who grew up eating casseroles, of all things.
Here’s how Grand March works: The City Auditorium fills with spectators while prom-goers parade down a catwalk. It’s an elaborate photo opp, and the place to invite anyone who may want to see you in prom attire.
The concept of a Grand March had never crossed my mind before that first encounter with North Dakota prom. When I describe it to people “back home,” they usually ask, “Doesn’t it take a long time? Why don’t they just take photos in someone’s yard like we did?”
To which I reply, “Yes, and they do. But they do Grand March, too. Or maybe they don’t because it might still be snowing on prom weekend.”
I may never fully understand, but I do really like Grand March. It’s prom, after all. Strut for as many as you can. Take all the photos you want. Just don’t hold your breath for anything as magical as the prom scene in Ten Things I Hate About You — real life never holds a candle to prom movies.
So far, prom 2022 is on track to be one of the best yet. It’s in April, not March. The snow is gone and they’re forecasting a high of 50˚. Strapless weather, if ever there was such a thing. Happy prom, Minot! Here’s to a beautiful night and hoping for no wind.
To connect with me further or to share your own prom photos, join me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
Amy’s son with Dizzy the Clown [Photo: Amy Allender]
A Casseroler’s Take on Relocating to Minot
“Wow, look at all those shades of brown.” The comment was delivered with faux awe from my passenger seat. Her sarcasm was friendly, not fiery. We both laughed.
“Now, now — don’t be judgmental. Look,” I said while pointing out the windshield. “Right there. Val’s Cyclery – it’s bright green. Fun fact, it’s also where I take my skates to be sharpened in the winter.”
We were driving south on 3rd Street, straight through town. My friend had just flown in from California to spend five, glorious, fall days with my husband and me in Minot. Her jokes about the lack of color and trees were lighthearted. She knew I had fallen in love with this town. A town I never knew existed until my husband got military orders to Minot Air Force Base. A town she never knew existed until she got my “change of address” card in the mail. I was a proud transplant, taking root in my new, proverbial pot.
As a military spouse, I’ve called many different zip codes “home.” None, however, has ever captured my heart and imagination quite like Minot. Putting my finger on exactly why I like it here is tricky. It’s a complicated combination of both tangible and impalpable qualities and quirks. I can’t always describe it, but I always know it when I see it.
Like how locals describe location based on the location of something else — even if the latter has been closed for years. Example, “It’s in the plaza where the old Tutti Frutti used to be.” Or how Dizzy the Clown is a really big deal — and once you meet him, you start to get it. Or how if a destination is more than fifteen minutes away I start to question if it’s really worth the trip.
Fascinated by the Seemingly Mundane
As an outsider, a foreigner, a transplant — I love to sit back and watch life unfold in this place so unlike any other. I find it utterly fascinating and have made it my business to become well-versed in all things Minot. A self-titled “Minot Guru.”
But let’s get back to my drive through town with a friend who was visiting. There is a vast difference between coming to Minot for a visit and living in Minot. Those who come to visit may remark on the blandness and remoteness, but those who live here will look at those same “bland” buildings and see something remarkable. While I have come to love this place deeply, I won’t claim it’s something it’s not. You’ll never hear me tell someone with no connection to Minot that this is a must-see tourist hub. This is not a town bursting at the seams with traditional vacation fare. Be that as it may, I’ll always reassure those who move to town that Minot is a great place to come home to.
Dala horse at the Scandinavian Heritage Park, Minot, ND [Photo: Amy Allender]
There’s a Pull Here
Sure, anyone can have a great time here, but you’ll have an even better time if you come visit someone. A visitor with no connection to town cannot expect to understand what makes the Magic City so magical. It’s not about the Dala horse in the park or the waterpark attached to the mall. Minot’s magic is held in the spaces a passerby may overlook. It’s the rough hands of a seasoned rancher holding a door open. It’s a chorus of children laughing and singing with Ms. Kristy at Main Street Books’ story time—the best you’ll ever go to. It’s losing track of time because the sun never seems to set in the summer, and the glamor of a field of sunflowers that stretches to the horizon. It’s all the small ways this community cheers on good ideas and helps them take flight.
Story time at Main Street Books, Downtown Minot [Photo: Amy Allender]
That’s the difference between arriving in Minot as a visitor versus deciding to live here. As a transplant, this may be my most valuable lesson learned, my most sage advice: when you move to Minot, don’t approach life here as a visitor—expecting the fun to always be obvious and aggressive. Instead, relocate with the mindset of someone ready to live here. When you live here, really live here, you’ll find charm, oddities and a community dazzling with dimension.
The Allender Family [Photo: Amy Allender]
I know there are many who are not bewitched with life here. There are many who think I’m crazy for seeing this small city – and North Dakota – with the light of an artist’s muse. That’s okay. I’m just one transplant of many. But maybe, just maybe these ramblings will cause you to look around with new eyes. Just be warned, like me, you may become enamored and addicted to watching life unfold up here in Hot Dish Territory.
To connect with me further and see more instances of my “Minot Guru” skills—join me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
I think the darkness is harder to bear than the cold. Everyone who comes to Minot thinks about the cold. Everyone dreads the cold. Everyone talks about the cold.
But very few mention the darkness.
In the fall we ride a slippery slope to days spent in the dark. It happens quickly. One day you’re raking leaves after dinner and the next you practically need a lamp on to see your lunch.
During our “shortest days” we’ve got a precious 8 hours and 20 minutes of daylight. The darkness is hard.
But now it’s March, and I’ve got great news — that same rapid pace that throws us into the dimness of winter is flinging us toward the endless light of summer.
[Photo: Amy Allender]
In my opinion, there is no greater mood booster, no better energy enhancer than the first major thaw that usually coincides with “springing” the clocks forward. Now, we’ve got light. Now, we’ve got water on the sidewalks instead of ice. Now, it’s light after dinner and we feel invincible, because there is so much day left at the end of the day.
When the clocks move forward and the snow starts to melt, we all emerge from our winter hiding places. Although we’ve seen each other, it often seems like we haven’t seen each other since the festivities of Christmas. January and February are full of arctic windchills. There’s no time to pause for a visit when you are shuffling from car to building with no coat on a -20˚ day. You make a run for it and offer a quick “Hello,” which is often swallowed up by the wind.
All of that changes when The Thaw begins.
Now, we can stop to chat when we pass in the parking lot. Now, we can gather on the sidewalk with neighbors. Now, we can start to wonder how we will get our kids to bed when the sun is still above the trees at 8 p.m.
[Photo: Amy Allender]
Keep Your Eyes on the Growing Light
I’ve never lived in a place where spring inspires such vivacity, such a profound shift in mood — not only in me, but the entire community. I see my children and neighbors brightening. Working is easier. Errands are easier. Even thinking is easier. Things are becoming new again, and we all feel it at a bone marrow level. Instead of focusing on how quickly we can get back to our home, we are making plans. Plans to go to take a walk, meet at the playground. The locals are even beginning to talk about going to “the lake” (wherever that is — but that’s a conversation for another day.)
Spring may not officially start for a few more days, but I think we can all agree that we are close enough. Yes, there will probably be more cold days. There may even be a May snow storm. But we’ve all seen the sun. The light is growing at breakneck speed. Snow can’t change the length of our days. We all know spring snow doesn’t last, anyway.
Yes, I say we are close enough.
So here is your charge: Get ready to pull down the plastic covering your draftiest windows. Inflate your bike tires. Find the windbreakers. Be prepared to swap storm windows for screens. Buy your zoo pass. Sign the kids up for little league.
Spring is happening, and we’re all here for it. Another snow storm may happen — but let’s keep our eyes trained on the growing light.
To connect with me further and see how I find small, magical moments in everyday life—join me on Instagram @amy_allender or on Facebook @amyallenderblog.
I’ve always been an eager participator; I think that’s why I feel so at home in Minot. It’s a community of participators. Need someone to join in? Chances are I’ll raise my hand.
Power of Participation
On Monday, I went to the Soggy Doggy Pool Paw-ty at Roosevelt Park Pool. My sons and I found seats on the bleachers to watch dogs jump from diving boards and wade in the kiddie pool. As I sat there, reveling in the wonderous thing it is to be alive and living in Minot, North Dakota at this very moment in time—I was reminded of my lackluster stint on my school’s Spell Bowl team.
During my senior year, my best friend asked me to join Spell Bowl. They were short on participants, and since I’ve always been a bit addicted to joining and participating, I signed up.
Six years earlier I had competed in the fifth-grade spelling bee and been eliminated during the first round. The word was “volcano.” My spelling had only marginally improved since then, but once a week, I stayed after school to spell complicated words. At competitions I was consistently our school’s weakest speller.
If you’re hoping this will be an inspirational story about how I kept showing up and gradually improved—you’re going to be disappointed. I earnestly tried, but my ability never became anything above mediocre.
The moral of this story isn’t about hard-work—it’s about the power of enthusiasm and participation to turn something that sounds lame into something vibrant and wonderful.
Participating in the Quirky
On paper, the Spell Bowl team sounded completely lame: Give up 90 minutes each week to sit quietly, while trying to spell difficult words. You’ll wear ill-fitting polo shirts to competitions—no one really knows how old they are. There are no rewards for participating; no extra credit will be given. There are no prizes if your team wins. The bus you’ll take to meets has no air conditioning. Maybe you’ll become a better speller. Maybe not. No guarantees.
Who wants to sign up?
Me.
And enough other people to eventually overflow our roster, allowing me to become an alternate. This meant my score only counted if multiple teammates were unable to compete, or in the event of a tie.
Dull description aside, my single season on Spell Bowl is one of the things I remember most fondly about my senior year. Nothing about the experience stands out except how absurd it was that Spell Bowl became something fun, memorable, and in the quirkiest way—even cool.
Based on the description, it shouldn’t have been any of those things—but it was. I joined, because I’m a joiner. I stayed, beyond necessity, because it was an undeniably good time.
Minot is like Spell Bowl in all the best ways.
It might not seem exciting—or even enjoyable—when first described, but because of the genuine enthusiasm, and willingness to participate in the people who live here, it’s something paradoxically lovely. You can’t quite put your finger on why it’s so fun even though it sounded so boring at first. It’s something you’ll come to look forward to, and maybe even want to stay beyond necessity.
Willingness to participate—both in the parade and on along the route—is what makes the State Fair Parade a true spectacle. This year my family walked in the parade for the first time, my husband is pushing the stroller and our youngest son is walking.
Participation in the Potentially Awkward
Minot continues to remind me that anything is possible when people get excited and are willing to join in. Minot is like an awkward extracurricular activity that becomes memorable in all the right ways when enough people come fully committed, ready for fun.
Let’s not forget that even the most perfect place, the most exciting-sounding event feel utterly awkward if no one shows up, and those who do are overly inhibited. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather be at the lame event that turns out awesome, than the awesome event that turns out lame.
In my opinion, a flash mob will always sound embarrassing on paper, but if enough people attend and go all out, it becomes something worth watching. It becomes viral.
That’s Minot. People are excited to be here and the attitude is spreading. This is a community of participators, ready to join in and try. It’s a place where people show up in droves to let their dogs swim in the public pool, walk the annual pumpkin trail, and brave arctic winds to see the town Christmas tree light up. I’m not from around here, but with my addiction to participation—here I’ve hit my stride. These are my people.
Let’s be people who encourage each other to join. Let’s be the best friend with contagious enthusiasm, spreading fun—even in places that sound dull. Let’s keep supporting good ideas, new ventures, and newcomers.
What’s something in Hot Dish Land that you love participating in? What do you love to tell others about? I’d love to hear from you! Join me on Instagram (@amy_allender) or on Facebook (@amyallenderblog).
Renew your zeal for the Bible with three days of exclusive devotionals! Interesting and relevant writings and reflection questions will remind you why the Word of God is so awesome. You'll learn a lot and you'll leave excited to know God more and grow deeper in your faith.
Your kick-start is on the way!
You've always dreamed of reading the Bible in chronological order. Now you can!
Getting my printable PDF plan is easy. It's not fancy, but it does fold easily into a bookmark, so you can keep it close by and easily see what's coming next. I hope you find it as useful as I do.
**Remember to check your PROMOTIONS FOLDER. Even if your confirmation comes to your normal inbox, the actual download may come to that pesky promotions folder instead!**
