Minnesnowta, Indeed

I'm not from here. I did not grow up with this sort of thing. An 8 inch snow in central  Arkansas would probably qualify as a sign of the apocalypse.

However, as foreign as snow was to my upbringing, digging my car out of an unholy amount of snow has become a basic expectation of my life now in Minneapolis.

And while digging this afternoon I realized I have never, ever dug myself out solo. I am always swarmed by a small and mighty army of fellow Minneapolites, strangers all, and together we chisel out my little VW. And then the Old Guy's Corolla, and then the Smoker's SUV. A different crew for each snow, surely, and each location. But Minnesotans rally well around one another where snow is concerned. They're proud of their shovels, proud of their fearlessness in taking to roads when lesser Americans might tuck themselves inside and sip tea (ahem, I am a lesser American).

Thank you, fellow Minneapolites, for your willingness to strain your back for my benefit. I hope I returned the favor adequately.