Northerners: I Have Questions

A non-northerner on upper-midwest traditions

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This area is the home of long winters and weird customs.

As someone who’s not from the area, there are a few traditions and customs I would like to address, that frankly, need some explanation.

It’s no surprise to hear that most students who go to NDSU are from North Dakota or Minnesota. It is, however, surprising to hear there are actually those of us who aren’t from up north (about 9.2 percent of NDSU’s enrolled students). 

As someone who’s not from the area, there are a few traditions and customs I would like to address that, frankly, require some explanation. Jellied fish, slippery sidewalks and taking 20 minutes to say goodbye are all things I’ve encountered in my short time at NDSU. So here are a few of the most puzzling things I’ve come across.

Hot Dish

Okay, so here’s the first northern tradition I encountered upon getting to NDSU. I made the critical mistake of using the word ‘casserole’ while eating my tater-tot casserole, and nearly got my head chewed off for it. 

“It’s hot-dish. Wow, you must be a big city girl then using the word ‘casserole’” (lots of laughter then ensued).

So that was my first lesson in North Dakota etiquette, that it’s hotdish, not casserole, and that everyone in this state is grouped into big-city folks and small-city folks. Truly enlightening.

However, I don’t really understand the concept of the word “hotdish.” Yes, I get that a casserole pan is usually hot, but hotdish could also refer to any other food served in a hot dish. Skillets come in hot dishes, so do brownies, heck, you take a dish out of the dishwasher and it’s got a little bit of food still on it, that’s technically a hot dish.

Why is everyone so intent on insisting it’s called a hotdish when the name doesn’t make any sense? The word casserole sets itself apart and means the same thing that hot dish does, but without all the confusion. 

Is it ridiculous getting so fired up about a food made in a pan in the oven? Yes, but technically, you guys started it.

Icy Sidewalks

After the first snowfall last year I thought it was a bit odd that none of the sidewalks had been salted or even shoveled well. But I thought, hey, it’s a big school, it probably takes a bit to get to everything. On day two, I was suspicious but still hopeful. After a week, I had resigned myself that all northerners are absolutely batty.

Everyone here treats a trek through ice-laden streets to class like a normal practice. Never in my life have I fallen on my ass so many times in so short a span of time. And to you want to know why? Well, half of it is chronic clumsiness, but the other half is sidewalks that would give the ice age a run for its money.

Walking to class while watching the sidewalks for ice, your surroundings for people, and the streets for cars is not a skill I ever had to have growing up. I walked freshly salted streets where ruining your shoes was the biggest concern, not wiping out in front of a half dozen people.

In fact, never have I been somewhere where they have to send out a memo on how to walk properly due to the road conditions. I’m not sure if anyone remembers, but students and faculty were issued an email on how to walk properly so as not to injure yourself when, inevitably, you fall.

“Do the penguin walk,” it said, or, I don’t know, maybe we could just clear the sidewalks.

Lutefisk

When I first heard of lutefisk, I honestly thought someone was playing a stupid practical joke on me. Fish which had been soaked in lye and had the texture of jello-o, there could not be something so ungodly that people would eat on this earth.

Listen, I understand we need to appreciate different cultures, but lye (you know, the substance known for being used in soap and tissue digestion) soaked jellied fish, how is this real?

Now, I will give you all some credit. I have yet to meet a single person at NDSU who has eaten lutefisk and liked it. Many students here have older relatives who are still big fans, but no one our age. So, screw what anyone says, society is still progressing in at least one way.

Still, I know for a fact that there is an annual Lutefisk Fish Toss (which last year celebrated its 21st anniversary) where people toss the fish in July. Do you know what mixes really well? Jellied fish and 85-degree heat. 

Minnesota Goodbye

Many people from North Dakota and Minnesota are very familiar with the ‘Minnesota Goodbye.’ As a rule, it’s good that if you want to leave a party by seven you should start saying goodbye to people at four because you’re going to spend at least three hours getting to everyone.

I once witnessed my best friend say goodbye to her grandmother eight times, eight times, before officially leaving. What was the point of the first seven?

I have, on multiple occasions, come off as odd because I say goodbye to people once and walk away. Imagine that right? In fact, one time I said goodbye to a friend, they reciprocated, and when I began to walk away they asked where I was going. We had gone through the customary 30 minutes of small talk before my departure so I confused them.

Phone conversations are only worse. I’ve seen people talking on the phone doing that romantic-comedy trope where they go back and forth arguing about who will hang up first. Four agonizing hours later, they’ve hung up and I’ve practically lost my mind.

It is my very uninformed but probably somewhat accurate interpretation that northerners would save about 60 hours a year if they just stuck with the one goodbye.

Ice Fishing

Practically, ice fishing makes a lot of sense in North Dakota and Minnesota. Normal fishing is really only viable two or three months of the year, so I guess this is all you’ve got left.

However, I’m not sure I quite understand the appeal of sitting in a tiny, dark hut in the middle of a frozen lake over a hole in the ground. It seems like the same level of excitement of the ever enthralling example of watching paint dry. 

Sure, I’ve come to learn there’s usually a good amount of alcohol involved, and there are a few minutes of fun when reeling in a fish, but what about the other five hours? What is fun about sitting in a puffy jacket in a fully-functional non-padded cell? Someone, please explain, because I’m ready for any good explanation at this point.

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