Dan and I were friends way back, in Bellingham. We met each other through music. We frequented the same record store: Vast Vault of Vinyl, and the small shop upstairs that sold mostly hardcore, punk and metal CD’s and 7inches. We got to talking. Dan, it turned out, owned Smash Your Guitar, the local guitar shop. I needed pickups put in my acoustic.
This murky shot of Dan playing with Affordable Boston in Bellingham, 2006
Bellingham is one of those towns that feels very small. People just keep running into each other. Because of this, acquaintances are doomed to become friends, or bitter enemies. Thankfully, Dan and I hit it off famously. He was kind enough to play rhythm guitar in my band, Affordable Boston.
When I moved to Portland, Oregon, Dan and I lost touch. During this time, by chance, Dan also moved to Portland. Oddly, we did not run into each other the whole time we were living there (Portland is similar to Bellingham in that bad pennies keep turning up). Later still, and by an even slimmer chance, Dan moved to the Twin Cities a couple years before I moved to Minneapolis. Then, by an even more slimmer chance, I just happened to run into him this last summer. He was playing with one of his many bands at an outdoor show in Minneapolis, not far from my apartment.
Such a coincidence, makes me wonder how many other striking parallels are swirling around out there, waiting for me to stumble by.
Dan and I had a good time catching up and discussing our journey – navigating the Twin Cities, Minnesota Nice, the abundance of little passive aggressions and, of course, the winters – among other points of interest. As we are both from the Pacific Northwest, these are things we just kind of notice but aren’t really big enough to be a ‘thing.’ Until somebody else points them out. Then, they’re a THING.
Dan described a hilarious example from his neighborhood. When he moved to his house, he was surprised when one of his neighbors actually set up a chair on his porch and just sat there, watching Dan go about his yard work. Dan would look at him and wave, but the neighbor was unfazed, and would just wave back. Finally, Dan put up a fence, the neighbor had a little conniption fit and came over and told him Minnesotans weren’t really “fence people.”
“That’s okay,” said Dan. “We are.”
And when the fence went up, he heard from not only that neighbor but other neighbors as well, about what they called, his “privacy fence.” They’d come over and say, “That’s a nice privacy fence you got there.” Which, at first, didn’t register with him, until he heard it again, and again. Finally, he corrected the observation, stating firmly, “No, this is not a privacy fence. This is just a fence.”
The difference between a privacy fence and a fence-fence indicates that Minnesotans are nosy AF. A privacy fence deprives a neighbor the opportunity to watch Dan go about his yard work, and anything else he may need to accomplish (or enjoy) outside his home.
I’m very glad I ran into Dan. It’s good to reconnect with dear old friends – even if it’s a little weird, being that the context is so very different now. I’m very glad to be here, in the Twin Cities, and I’m lucky to have discovered a good buddy living so close by. So here’s cheers to friends.
If it works out, I’ll be taking some pictures of Dan and his bandmates to get practice taking portraits and live shots of musicians and their audience in low-lit clubs.