Fargo for Vacation? You betcha

Don't let North Dakota be just a "flyover state." In my quest to visit all 50 states, I took what I thought was a nothing trip and suddenly made it all feel worthwhile. I flew into Minneapolis on a Saturday and drove approximately 3.5 hours west to South Dakota, then up to Fargo.

I did a little research before I left, but stopped at the Fargo Convention and Tourist Bureau, amazed that it was open until 6 p.m. on a Saturday. That's where the Celebrity Walk of Fame is, with hand and footprints in cement of visitors to Fargo. It includes 120 actors, authors, musicians and athletes. The first was Louisiana's own, Al Hirt. I was the first to put a pin on their world map for being a visitor from Shreveport.

Inside, you can have your picture made with a wood chipper in a corner devoted to the Fargo movie. Afterwards, you can go to www.thewoodchipper.org to see your photo appear on Facebook. Thank goodness, because I didn't even bring my real camera.

There is also a Wood Chip Marge statue at the Fargo Theatre. Actually, the movie only showed two scenes of Fargo and was not filmed there. Residents don't talk in an accent as exaggerated as the movie depicted; in fact, it seems like I was asked to repeat myself a lot.

Another stop was the Roger Maris Museum in West Acres Shopping Center. Maris shattered Babe Ruth's 1927 home run record with 61 homers in a single season in 1961 on the final day of the regular season. The Maris record stood for 37 years. He grew up in Fargo and led the American Legion team to the state championship.

You can watch a video there on an actual Yankee Stadium seat. The film shows Maris and Mickey Mantle were nearing Ruth's record. Pressure and the media got to Maris and he actually asked to sit out a game while approaching the record. A humble man, when he broke the record, teammates pushed him from the dugout back onto the diamond. Maris did not want to go back to Yankee Stadium for former player days, feeling he did not leave in good terms, until George Steinbrenner asked what it would take and Maris asked for a donation for a baseball field. You can see Maris bats, balls, uniforms, awards and magazine covers. There is no admission charge. Maris is buried in Fargo.

At the mall, I noticed Fargo has a Macy's. It also has a Cinnabon's, zoo and Amtrak station. Three things Shreveport-Bossier does not. I drove by the Fargodome arena that seated 17,000 for the Paul McCartney concert that night. This town of 104,000 has an arena larger than ours and attracted McCartney!

The North Dakota State University Bison play in the Fargodome. The 14,000 students see colorful bison artwork around town and beautifully landscaped streets with hanging plants. In the downtown area, many people were out and about around 7 p.m. It didn't get dark until close to 10 p.m.

It was 84 degrees the day I arrived and 54 degrees the Sunday I left. I'm sure it is much different in the winter, but I actually thought I could live in Fargo in the summer.

Nothing against southeast South Dakota, but I spent the night in Fargo, so that is where I wandered around and became impressed enough to write this. If you don't want to visit, maybe you want to work there. The newspaper had 11 pages of want ads.

There is nothing Podunk about Fargo. Just like we don't want people to think we are all from the swamp or hunt ducks, don't judge Fargo from the movie. It is nothing like you think.

P.S. If you save North Dakota for last, there is an official club. Best for last!

 

 

KenSUCKy

Late in posting this, but our trip began with a Lady Gaga concert in Dallas and on to Louisville for Hullabalou.

Gaga
Fire/sparks came out of her breasts and crotch and on top of the piano. She said the people outside were the freaks. One girl was dressed in a deck of cards. Gaga looked like a walking lampshade, a fiber optic snowflake and had stage blood on her sternum--changed clothes a lot. Lady Gaga ranges from Catholic girl to Gypsy Rose Lee to Rosie, the Jetson’s robot maid, as someone said.

Louisville Slugger
The wood spins 1,500 times; a farmer comes in and gets 40,000 to 50,000 pounds of sawdust every couple of days. A system sucks it up. Bats are 50 percent ash and maple. The sweet spot is the strongest part of the bat. They pay athletes $5,000 to use their name and picture. Some order 120 a season. They are ready in 48 hours. The bats are branded at high temperature. There are templates on lathes. They are carted on BATmobiles. Pink bats are used on Mother’s Day only. The factory has been there since 1884. They make 1.8 million bats a year.

Churchill Downs
Just wow!!

Maker’s Mark Distillery
It’s been around since 1805. It’s 117 degrees in the distillery; dark helps keep it hot and not see any mildew. The logo was a cattle brand. People once used their own containers, so it’s the oldest retail package market (1889). Seventy percent is corn grown locally, soft red winter wheat and malted barley for the meal that is mixed with limestone spring water on property. The still is 38 feet tall. The red wax dipping is dangerous; they wear gloves and take breaks every 30 minutes. No. 46 is the new recipe for 46th recipe tried. They slam dunk some bottles deep just for fun and those could be worth something on the Internet. Nineteen people are on a taste panel that approves the release after aging over three hot summers. They still roll the barrels by hand.
I remember some of the Maker’s Mark Ambassador gifts being BIG ICE CUBE TRAY, WRAPPING PAPER, TAGS, BOTTLE SWEATER.

Lynn’s Paradise Café—we went in, but the line was too long--wacky décor, supposedly great French toast, has World of Swirl gift shop, it’s where Dali meets Dolly.

NY NY

April 1, 2010


My face made the Today Show! One of Lauren’s friends saw me on. David recorded it. Very lame crowd that day. We were front row. Visited the cathedral, of course.

We visited the 911 Memorial, which wasn’t there when I went four years ago. A perpetual scrolling of names commemorates those who were lost. Very sad. Kleenex boxes provided.

We attended the NASDAQ opening bell ceremony. It was Kelly Services, no celebrity. But very cool. You have to clap real loud. A lady who went to LSU and was a KD was next to us. In Macy’s, I had on my LSU shirt and some people stopped us. One was the aunt of someone in Caroline’s class. And my old boyfriend’s daughter, Sarah, was on our plane on the way back. Still can’t get over that. Haven’t seen her since her wedding four years ago; lives in B.R.

We saw Wicked (No. 3 for me), Rock of Ages and The Lion King. The average applause is 15 claps, I learned. Rock of Ages worked in a Tiger Woods joke.

We ate at Sardi’s and the Russian Tea Room and Serendipity and Bubba Gump’s. Be sure and see the nesting dolls at TRT.

A cop chase made Caroline’s day. She wanted green grass, no pollution, no honking horns and smiles. Where do people work, she asked since there are so many shopping n the stores? She said all the cab drivers are named Mohammed.

We did the bus tour. We learned on the bus to ask what theaters do a lottery and that the seaport has a TKTS site much less crowded than the one in Times Square. Off-Broadway means less than 500 seats. Ask for a 10 percent out-of-state discount at Macy’s.

Planned to be there for St. Patrick’s Day Parade, the oldest and largest in the world. We only saw a little of it.

The 249th St. Patrick's Day extravaganza is to be the last of the Big Apple's world-famous parades to take place before new restrictions go into effect April 1 requiring all parades to be shorter to save money.

Chinatown is very lame any more. No designer knockoffs. Just stupid stuff. No back room trips or van trips.

I don’t think Caroline liked it as much as I thought. She didn’t want to do the ferry or Statue of Liberty.

The Naked Cowboy was out.

I lost my camera.

Doin' the Cabo Wabo

Nov. 25, 2008

First of all, we loved the Hilton. You drive up and are given a margarita; you check in outside, see a beautiful fountain and then go to your room. The room was huge and overlooked the beach. It had a Jacuzzi and large glass shower. Very festive. They did origami figures every night that were left on our bed and pressed logos on the toilet paper. The breakfast was awesome; we ate there every day. Fresh juices—orange, watermelon, cantaloupe, beet, carrot. Live guitar music was played at breakfast. They even warm your nuts at the bar. The bar was awesome and there is one at the pool. It is right on the beach (kind of rocky sand); it wasn't crowded, I really could go on and on.

We rented a Jeep, but they have a shuttle. We drove to Hotel California.

If you haven't been to eat at The Office, it's my fave. You sit at tables on the sand under the moonlight with flaming coffee and tequila. We hit the Hard Rock Café, Cabo Wabo, Gigglin' Marlin, Mi Casa and El Squid Roe.

For the sights, we took a glass-bottom water taxi to the Arch/Land's End and saw sea lions; it was choppy, but I survived. You see a window to the Pacific and the marina is great. Everyone tries to sell you something—caricatures, painted shells, serenades, jewelry, condos.

It is very Americanized--they speak English and use American money. I read Honeymoon with My Brother while there. It says about traveling internationally: You'll change the views on an issue you thought to be previously untouchable. You'll feel guilty about not knowing a foreign language, yet believe even more strongly that English is the universal tongue. After the trip, newspapers will be far more interesting, though you'll shake your head at the shortage of foreign news. You'll also listen with greater interest to a friend's stories about travel. Travel is an investment with guaranteed returns.

Broadway is so Ozmopolitan

June 7, 2007

Where do you begin to talk about a trip to New York City? There's the visit to Ground Zero and St. Paul's Church (sad), Ellis Island where I found my grandparents' names on the American Immigrant Wall of Honor, shopping in the secret channels of Chinatown, The TODAY Show and talking to Ann Curry after giving her Mardi Gras beads, seeing Wicked and Chicago, eating at the oldest pizza restaurant, outdoors, etc., walking, subways, taxis, mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral (you can listen on satellite now), oddities like a rice pudding restaurant and the great M & M store.

On the bus tour, I learned that Soho stands for South Of HOuston, not pronounced like Houston, and that one of the hospitals was the first to use hypodermic needles, start an ambulance and have a maternity ward--never thought about that before.

The new touristy thing is to have your photo made with a hot FDNY guy. It felt pretty safe although we had the scare about the JFK Airport fuel lines being tampered with in the news. SWAT teams were out one night at a hotel and I saw random checks of trunks in parking garages.

One day was spent attending the BookExpo America (the publishing industry's annual national convention), where I shipped home 43 free books, the majority autographed. Favorite moment: one of the authors, Doug Crandell, who said, "You were on my plane yesterday." I couldn't believe he remembered me and I thought it was a line. In fact, he was on the Atlanta plane because he described exactly where I sat and how "cute" I was. :) He is my new favorite author. In line behind me while shipping the books home was a guy who grew up in Bossier City. Small world. And while walking in Times Square, who do I see right beside me, but Kathy Patrick of the Pulpwood Queens/Jefferson, Texas, who I had just met at the Municipal Auditorium. We spoke briefly.

Back to Ellis Island, if they could figure out how to manage immigration in 1910, why can't they reform it now? Politicians tried to help them to get their vote and children in school were used as "go-betweens" to learn the language. If they didn't settle in Little Italy or Chinatown, they traveled by train. Most were farmers in 1910. Some idiot from Boston sitting next to me on the plane back said he heard that Shreveport was "all farmers" and the armpit of the South. Boy, did I set him straight.

P.S. Learned a new word: transverses in Central Park.

I'm in D.C. and it's Monumental!

Jan. 6, 2007

I am in Washington, D.C., for a conference at the Renaissance, but have managed the following:

Tuesday: Tour of the International Spy Museum, assuming a "cover" and suspicious of everything since. You learn about dead drops and see weapons, disguises and surveillance. The pigeons used during the war were interesting.

Wednesday: Tour of the Capitol and Library of Congress (LOC for future reference). The White House Visitor Center is a waste of time. We were supposed to have a real tour from Congressman Charles Melancon's office, but the Ford funeral gave an extra federal holiday, so it was canceled. We missed all of the Ford fanfare unfortunately, but I got to sign his condolence book. Did you know the Statue of Liberty can fit under the Capitol Rotunda? That is how tall it is in there. There is a lucky star in the basement that indicates the center of the building and the center of Washington at one time. Of course, I stepped on it. The Hawaiian statue is somewhat interesting, in a remote spot because he doesn't have on a lot of clothes.

The LOC is awe inspiring. Forget the books, there is great architecture in the LOC. They thought of everything. Mosaics honoring painting, poetry, engineering, philosophy, science, music, religion, commerce, history, art and law. Cherubs with the tools of their trade--musician, electrician, etc.; the four seasons; the five senses; wisdom, understanding, knowledge and philosophy; fortitude, temperance, prudence, patriotism, courage, valor and achievement; adventure, discovery and conquest which lead to civilization; the evolution of the book from spoken word to the Gutenburg Bible, one of three vellum copies in existence; a statue with a mirror to show History Looking Back; doves, etc.There is an exhibit that said Thomas Jefferson separated his books into Memory, Reason and Imagination. You can use your cell to listen to that exhibit info. I thought that was way cool.

In the evening we went to the ESPN Zone to cheer on the Tigers in the Sugar Bowl, and I mean I showed them how the Tigers party. They have the hugest TV and 12 other feeds. I sat on a recliner on the front row.

Thursday: National Museum of the American Indian--lame; Oz exhibit temporarily located at the Air and Space Museum--also lame because it's only the Ruby Slippers, Scarecrow costume, the camera used and a piece of the script. A guy whose mother lives in Shreveport was the security check. Small world. Then it was back to the LOC to the gift shop because there was no time yesterday, but it was closed due to a reception for Nancy Pelosi--called "Celebration for a New Direction." It's a huge day on the Hill with the swearings in today. I wormed my way into her deal, kind of like I did at private parties at ESPN last night. Could be my Southern charm. I didn't spot her. Then I took a cab to the National Cathedral. Very huge and beautiful, but not as much so as the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, also here. The National Cathedral is nearing 100 years old, but some pieces were just added in 2002, is the second largest cathedral in the U.S. behind St. John the Divine in New York and sixth in the world. It is a cathedral because of the cathedra, a chair. Didn't know that. Woodrow Wilson is buried in here as are Helen Keller's ashes. There is an actual moon rock in one of the stained glass windows because Michael Collins went to St. Alban's school next door. I saw a book in the huge store called Cathedral Cats (they live in cathedrals in England). The bell tower is the highest point in D.C. and there is an observation deck, but I didn't have time for it.

Saturday: I had the best time, touring the U.S. Postal Museum, Union Station, the Holocaust Museum and the National Gallery of Art. Then, my friend Lee Ivory, who is editor of Sports Weekly, took me for a motorcyle ride and dinner at an Irish pub. He is going to take me to the National Press Club next time I come.

The weather has been great! Security is everywhere! Airports are really catering to passengers with massaging chairs and rapid cell chargers.

Holy Dirt

April 1, 2006

We had a fiesta out West for vacation earlier this year. My husband and I flew to Albuquerque, the balloon city, and had a burger with red chili mayonnaise for dinner and the next morning drove by Old Town to see the miraculous staircase said to be built without nails at San Felipe de Neri Church, but it wasn't open yet. So it was 323 miles on to Flagstaff to a hotel on Route 66, down to the red rock monoliths in Sedona and back to Flagstaff, then to the Grand Canyon the next day. We wanted to see the amazing vistas at the Petrified Forest on the way west of Albuquerque, but it was closed due to a heavy snowfall. I was going to buy something from the gift shop, but several items I picked up were not native, saying "made in Pakistan."

After seeing the majestic canyon, we circled through Sleeping Ute Mountain that appears as a giant sleeping Ute Indian in Cortez, Durango but not Silverton, Aztec and Farmington to see Shiprock Pinnacle, igneous rock flanked by long upright walls of solidified lava. Driving by Sleeping Ute, we noted the feather, arms crossed at the chest, the hips and legs.

Stopping in Aztec at the Aztec Ruins National Monument, we saw an ancestral puebloan community with its great kiva, a circular ceremonial room. Ironically, the picture we took in there did not come out. You could almost smell the aroma of corn and venison stew simmering in clay pots over a fire of cedar and pinon wood and feel the presence of the people and the beating of the drums.

My husband is fascinated by Indians and we noted signage of such school mascots as Red Mesa Redskins, Tuba City Warriors and Shiprock Chieftains. We also noticed that numerous trains travel out West.

We then continued our drive through beautiful Chama, to get to Chimayo in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains and ultimately, Santa Fe, which I've since read has the cleanest air in the United States, according to the American Lung Association, and some of the lowest overweight and obesity rates in the nation.

The only "must" destination in Chimayo was El Sanctuario de Chimayo, "the Lourdes of America," that my boss had told me about. Along the quaint route are crucifixes galore, in yards, on trees, on street signs, on backyard sheds, on the hillside.
According to www.roadsideamerica.com, somewhere around 1810, a Chimayo friar was performing customary penances on Good Friday when he saw a light bursting from a hillside. Digging, he found a crucifix, quickly dubbed the miraculous crucifix of Our Lord of Esquipulas. A local priest brought the crucifix to Santa Cruz, but three times it mysteriously disappeared and was later found back in its original location. By the third time, everyone understood that El Senor de Esquipulas wanted to remain in Chimayo, and so a small chapel was built on the site. Then the miraculous healings began. These grew so numerous that the chapel had to be replaced by the larger, current Chimayo Shrine -- an adobe mission -- in 1816.(Even the Wendy's Restaurants in this part of the country are adobe looking).

The crucifix still resides on the chapel altar, but for some reason its curative powers have been overshadowed by El Posito, the "sacred sand pit" from which it sprang, behind the main altar. Over 300,000 people visit every year, many taking the pilgrimage on Good Friday. Mass is still held daily.

The Prayer Room, which is located in the sacristy of the church (next to the pit), is filled with discarded crutches, braces and shrines.

There are two excellent gift shops where you can buy nice plastic containers for your free dirt, but beware of the man outside selling spices.

Unlike the old legend that taking lava rocks from Hawaii results in misfortune and calamity for tourists because one of the volcano goddesses punishes people who dare take something of value that belongs to her, I have four miraculous dirt stories to report since my return. I brought back six containers of blessed dirt and holy water. An acquaintance thought her colon cancer had spread, but a new PET scan the day after she got the dirt proved otherwise. Another friend no longer has a stomach cyst after an ultrasound received the week she got her dirt. An out-of-town friend who is having a difficult pregnancy and received her dirt in the mail found out her son will not be developmentally disabled after extensive tests and a close friend who had a biopsy last week got a benign report after retrieving her dirt from a mailbox delivery. This just in: my aunt was cured of shingles after her shipment. I am waiting on results of two other younger friends. It has also helped someone with a legal matter.

I wear my dirt around my neck in a cross that stays filled at all times and am making plans to return to Chimayo if the airline situation improves.
We came to the end of our trip at LaFonda, the inn at the end of the Santa Fe Trail and within walking distance of the plaza. Shopping ensued, but I didn't come back with any turquoise, only an appreciation for the beauty of the West, God's creation of the Grand Canyon and the healing power of dirt.