Northfield Townie

This evening, I had a discussion about when you are considered a Townie. Clearly if you are born in Northfield, you are automatically a Townie. But if you move there later, when is the line? Dan had told me that he drew the line at 15 years (at least I think that's what he said...something like that). Though he came up with the number randomly, he's stuck with it ever since. I also had thought about that you're a Townie when you begin to almost take offense at when Northfield is called a “small town,” since compared to the surrounding population, Northfield is a very large town.

Sue believed that being a Townie is made up of mindset and connectedness, much more than time. She moved to Northfield in 1993, but 18 years later, still doesn't consider herself a Townie. Her social life is not in Northfield, and never really has been. She kind of agreed about the idea of taking offense at “small town.” She did NOT take offense when I said it; she rather considers Northfield a small-town herself. Slowly, I began to realize that even though she knows more names and people than I do, and has been in Northfield almost the whole time I've been alive, she's still less of a Townie than I am. But she doesn't really desire to be one either. She is tightly connected to the cities, and likes it so. She also pointed out that she didn't go to either St. Olaf or Carleton, and thereby lacks a major connection to Northfield. By no means are all Townies Carls or Oles, or are all Carls or Oles Townies, being one or the other still does represent a tie to the town, via one of the schools.

I told her that I had often considered the epitome of a Townie to be someone deeply involved with DJJD. She definitely agreed with that point. I told her that I had always considered DJJD to be an exclusive group that had almost a life-long wait-list. To me, it is the only social group in Northfield worth waiting to enter. I told her that the reenactors were the center of the DJJD group in my mind, and it absolutely amazed me when Chip opened the possibility of being a townie in the reenactment for me last week. Sue finally said, “I think that's it. The fact that you were invited shows that you're a townie.” I'm a townie?! Already??

In my interview, when asked “What are you most proud of?” I answered with: “Major accomplishments. Not so much the checking off of things on a list, but the knowledge that I accomplished something.” Though this is very different, it still gives me a similar feeling. I am proud of belonging. I was proud to audition into the St. Olaf Band, but I was also proud to call myself a member and feel the camaraderie of the group. Likewise, I was excited to begin volunteering at NHS in 2008, but now I am proud to have even just one person consider me a part of the group; a Northfield Townie.

Other Northfield Townies – What are your thoughts? What does it take to become a Townie? What does it mean to be a Townie?

Thai Food

After work today, Sue and I went to a Thai restaurant in Faribault. After looking through the menu for a minute, the waiter asked what we were thinking about ordering. I said I was thinking about the pineapple fried rice. He said, “Might I recommend the Phad Thai?” “When I go to Thai restaurants, I sometimes try not to order Phad Thai, because it's what everyone gets.” “Well, our chef makes an excellent sauce, whereas fried rice, you can get at any Chinese buffet.” “Uhh, right. I'll think about that.”

What do you say to that? Asian restaurants in non-Asian areas are so different from Asian restaurants in areas with a high Asian population. “They assume you know nothing,” as Sue put it. I ended up ordering another dish; not fried rice or Phad Thai. It was good. But really, I wonder what the chef would have thought about his waiter comparing his fried rice to Joe Schmoe's Chinese Buffet fried rice. I really think the fried rice would have been better than that; I would give the food pretty good marks overall. Also, after I went through the usual “Yes, I really want TEN out of FIVE stars” routine, and he brought the food, he reminded me that if it wasn't hot enough, I could use “that.” He pointed at the condiment display on the table. I said “Yes, I know Siracha.” He said, “No, I meant that.” “This?” I said as I pointed to the jar of chili oil. “That's chili oil. That has fat. Siracha doesn't.” He didn't know what to say. I don't think he knew what either one was, though he seemed vaguely aware that chili oil was hotter (at least per ounce) than Siracha.