North Maple Rag

There's a great article in New York Magazine about not growing up. Well, it's more about growing up the cool way. Read it.

I meant to post this right after Spring Break, but I kind of forgot about it. The Pancake House in Salem, OR has what might be the best bacon in the world. I'd been hearing about said bacon for at least a year before I got the chance to try it. I even came close to missing my flight back to New York for it. It was worth the wait. And the risk.

• Trader Joe's, as just about everyone knows, opened in Union Square this week. I went on Monday and left beaming with happiness. Good food! Low Prices! The main difference between the NYC version and the rest of the country's is the checkout line. It wraps around the entire store and while it moves quickly, it's a reminder that New York, even when it tries to offer something that's fairly standard and predictable in other places, usually alters it at least a little.
• Went to my first Knicks game on Friday. During Spring Break, I'd been a little sad that I wasn't in South Dakota for the state basketball tournaments (after 22 years there, I will always like watching high school baskeball). Anyway, on Friday the Knicks were playing the Grizzlies. Playing guard for the Grizzlies, was Mike Miller, a fellow South Dakotan and member of the high school class of 1998. I can remember watching Miller and the Mitchell Kernels play my own Watertown Arrows. So, even though I didn't get to watch any high school baskeball this month, I had the memory of it.
• Lots of friends are in town this weekend, which is always good.
• Lots of work to do. It's that point in the semester where I feel overwhelmed. It's been made worse by the fact that I got a spot on the editorial board of my journal and we're already transitioning into our new jobs. The good news is that I really like the rest of the board. However, the lazy part of me is kicking myself for taking on what looks like a lot of work.
  

Someone found my blog by googling "dried apricots suck."

Mission: Complete.

The Work of Wolves by Kent Meyers

It's easily the best novel I've read I've read in the past year (not to mention it's set in South Dakota).

My new camera is the cutest thing, ever (yes, even cuter than, say, a puppy hugging a bunny).
The Congressional Research Service is the most helpful thing, ever. Not only have they produced timely reports on my note topic, but Betsy A. Cody and H. Steven Hughes from the Science and Industry Division have managed to condense the 100 years of water resouce management projects into about eight paragraphs of easily digestible narrative.

Jake's Famous Crawfish in Portland has the best crawfish etouffe I've had outside of New Orleans and and an absolutely delightful Key Lime Martini.

Grapefruit gelato is the best gelato flavor, ever.

Powell's is the best bookstore, ever. Seriously, you can wander for hours and when you take an armful of books to the checkout the price total's only like $25.

Today, as I was driving my friend's car from Portland to Salem, I saw a car with license plates from my hometown. I then drove behind and beside this car for at least 35 and was completely captivated the entire time. Who was this guy? Why was he in Oregon? Does he live here? If so, why does he still have South Dakota plates? Was he on a trip? Why did he buy a car with windows so dark I couldn't get a good look at him? If I followed him until he stopped somewhere and asked him all these questions, would he think I was crazy?

Eventually, he pulled off I-5 and I decided not to follow. It was still kind of neat to see a fellow resident of Codington County. Keep in mind that Codington is home to, at most, 25,000 people. I don't know how many registered cars there are, but I'm willing to bet the number of them that leave the upper midwest is relatively low.

Anywho, that was the most noteworthy part of my day. I'm currently sitting in an unfamiliar law library working on a note that has become entirely too familiar. Apparently, most of my Spring Break is going to look a lot like the rest of the school year.

Bricoleur: A person (esp. an artist, writer, etc.) who constructs or creates something from a diverse range of materials or sources; the creator of a bricolage (OED).

I'll admit that I talk about South Dakota too much. I'll also admit that my attitude about the state can generally be called "flippant." I joke about our lesser known celebrities (Bob Barker, Cheryl Lladd, Mary Hart) and outside of a small group of friends, I rarely discuss my real concerns about the state (the death of small towns, the flight of educated young people, the crippling poverty on our reservations). What my jokey attitude belies is a fierce devotion to my home. On both sides of my family, I'm the fifth generation to call SoDak home and I now take my role as a de facto ambassador (see here) pretty seriously.

All of that is why I've been disappointed with the liberal/progressive response to South Dakota's new ban on abortion. I completely agree that the law is a horrible and short-sighted effort by the legislature to waste taxpayer money with what will ultimately be frivolous litigation. What disappoints me is not the liberal ire directed at South Dakota's legislature (I, in fact, made my first PAC contribution to a group aimed at changing the balance of that legislature last week) but at the sense of disregard shown for the hundreds of thousands of South Dakotans who agree that the law is a bad idea.

The sentiment that comes across most clearly in the commentary I've read is that any progressive person living in South Dakota should leave (whether it's to the nearby Twin Cities or the even more satisfyingly liberal East and West Coasts). What a great idea. Consolidating liberals in urban and coastal areas has been working so well for us.

I spent this past summer in Berkeley and met a great number of people who were downright shocked that active liberal like me grew up in such a red state. They treated me like I had overcome some great political adversity and had triumphed by making my way out of the state and landing at a liberal New York law school and an even more liberal summer job. Nothing could be farther from the truth. My politics are, more than anything, a result of growing up with family, friends, and neighbors who are guided by a serene combination of compassion and common sense. The vast majority of my most influential mentors still live in South Dakota and they are nothing short of inspirational. In sum, I'm a Democrat because of South Dakota.

Yes, the abortion ban is dumb. Yes, our legislature is crazily conservative. At the end of the day, though, I'm sticking with South Dakota and the people there who not only remember that we've given the world some fantastic progressives (George McGovern and Tom Daschle to highlight my favorites) but also that the state legislature was controlled by Democrats less than 15 years ago. I'm sticking with the people who are willing to stand up and point out the hypocrisy of a legislature that bans abortions but fails to adequately fund education and health programs. I'm sticking with the people who see this as a reason to fight rather than a reason to flee. There's more of them than you think and they shouldn't be disregarded.

In fact, I think East and West Coast liberals generally can take a lesson from prairie progressives. It seems to me that being a devoted member of a vocal minority takes a little more gumption and dedication that surrounding yourself with only those who are like-minded. But, all of this is more opinion that I usually share in a month, so I'm done. Just don't be too quick to give up on places like South Dakota; we've got endurance and one ill-advised statute is certainly not enough to admit defeat.

Sometimes, I get antsy.

And so, last night, when a friend who lives in Boston offered to pick me up at the New Haven train station, I said, "uh, okay." Unfortunately, taking a last minute trip to Massachusetts doesn't erase the work I need to finish this weekend. So, I'm sitting by a fireplace in a hotel lobby in Worcester, researching my Note, while my friend makes a cursory appearance at a conference. This is more comfortable than my apartment and there's some lovely muzak, so I've decided the trip was a good idea.

Oh and on a completely unrelated note, people who hang out in hotel lobbies are often asshats.

Oh, Mark Dayton.