The balance

 

My friend Richard asked me to read something his childhood friend wrote in the Star Tribune, our main city paper around here. Apparently this friend writes an occasional opinion piece for the paper. I was a little hard on it. Probably because I feel I should have a daily column in the newspaper to intoxicate the citizenry with, and I curse all who keep me from it. But it was a reasonably nice piece. It was about walking in the woods, paying respect, and how we who have found some dominion over the natural world, like with this vaccine for covid, should try to be worthy of it. 

Fair enough.

So I went for a walk in the snowed over swamp behind the library. And I thought: I don't believe there is a balance between good and evil. I believe that while solving the problems caused by our own malfeasance averts disaster, it does not make us special in the Universe. I believe that what makes us special in the universe is solving a problem where there is no problem, it is in the acts of committing good that is untethered to any evil.

Joe Biden undoing some of the damage of the previous president doesn't make him a good president. Fighting the battle of correcting our mistakes is a losing battle because one can only lose ground in failure, or conversely not lose ground in success, but one can never improve or advance. There is only attrition in it.

Many dots of hope have been reported from this new government like victories, but there aren't really victories there. There is no $15 minimum wage to report. There is no $2,000 stimulus. If a green new deal comes it will be 20 years late and a fraction of the size needed. We're still a country trying not to drown. Just because we're giving it a good go on trying not to drown, improved as it is, doesn't mean we're swimming.

It was a nice enough piece my friend's friend wrote. But I say that for all we have stolen from ourselves the vaccine is our right. 

If we want to be worthy of something we should aim higher. 

A striking view of Saint Minneapolis

 

In my tireless boosterism of the beautiful city of Saint Minneapolis I like to occasionally feature interesting photographs of the city so that people will say:

"Gosh, that Saint Minneapolis city is real interesting!"

I don't generally care one way or the other if these people move here or visit our lovely city. I mainly just want them to say "Saint Minneapolis" because too many people are still calling the city by its old names of "Saint Paul", or "The Twin Cities", or "Bloomington", or whatever crazy expired names people insist on using. This is like people who continue to call Volgograd "Stalingrad" or Alabama "Alabama".

It's unwholesome.

So here are some pictures of a morning just before Christmas Day, in Saint Minneapolis, just after it snowed, when the early sun is lighting the skyline on fire (metaphorically). These pictures are of a Saint Minneapolis neighborhood (borough?) known as "Minneapolis". But what say we don't get caught up in these local neighborhood names. Anyone locally will readily recognize this as:

Saint Minneapolis

Saint Minneapolis

 

After many years on the sidelines here at clerkmanifesto, refusing to take a stand on anything, or have an opinion of my own on any subject, I have decided enough is enough! I have built up some real carte blanche through my years of prudent moderation in this world famous blog. And while the rewards of all this fame and adulation cannot be understated, aren't they all a little hollow if I don't give back, if I don't wade in and take a stand for something important, if I don't spend a little of that cache?

Yes. 

Yes is the answer. 

In case you wondered.

So what happened, you ask?

I was reading about cities. And I came across something regarding twin cities; that is small cities that grew until they were crammed together and somewhat indistinguishable. Cities like Bridgeport and New Haven in Connecticut, or Dallas and Fort Worth in Texas, or, where I live, Minneapolis and St. Paul, in Minnesota. The book said that once in Hungary there were twin cities, that is, two cities so close that they grew together. These twin cities were called Buda and Pest.

I think you could guess what happened.

Budapest happened. The two cities became one. And in that moment I realized:

I don't like twin cities. I like cities.

I live in The Twin Cities of Minneapolis and Saint Paul.

I like our metro area, and think it's a nice place to live. I love living here with my wife. I love the Mississippi River running through the heart of it all. I idly hope all our sports teams win even though they generally don't. I support our excellent museum. I like our coffeehouses and bars (well, I used to when one could actually go to them and not... kill people). I enjoy our giant mall and our State Fair and our Frank Gehry building leaning over the river. I even love our secret, hidden Mannerist Fountain imported from Italy that they put away for the Winter.

But I hate our Twin Cities.

I think they should be one city. And we should call it:

Saint Minneapolis.

My new Budapest-like city will incorporate the inner ring suburbs, like Bloomington and Edina, West St. Paul and Roseville. And it will be only one city, large and vital and consistent enough to compete with the other notable, medium-big American Cities, like, I don't know, Denver or Seattle.

I'm just saying enough with the meaningless local competition and regionalism, with its multiple library systems and shitty police forces and uncoordinated bike and walking paths that dead end at city boundaries that are completely irrelevant!  

I don't like Minneapolis.

I don't like St. Paul.

But I am very fond of beautiful St. Minneapolis.

So brace yourself; no longer will I refer to St. Minneapolis as The Twin Cities. I will not say I live in St. Paul or Minneapolis. And if it confuses people my made up geography of St. Minneapolis, that's a risk I must bear. But my hope is that the purity of my vision will alter the landscape until, little by little, the people of this part of the state will come together and make that which is already true underneath, official.

This is my quest.

This is my star.

No matter how hopeless.

No matter how far.

St. Minneapolis.