Beyond the Margin

from Mankato Magazine

by Free Press Media

Community Draws

By Joe Spear

February resilience and dining out(side)

Halfway through winter, February can test our resilience.

The things we miss in our COVID-19 world have become all too clear nearly a year into the pandemic. And the losses can manifest themselves in sometimes extreme ways if we’re not careful.

The American Psychological Association in a recent survey notes about 30% of Americans showed symptoms of depression a month or so into the pandemic — triple the usual number.

But stoic Minnesotans mostly don’t make a visit to a therapist as the first line of defense. More likely the last. In between, there are behaviors we adopt as a way to ease into compensating for what has been lost.

And, of course, columns like this can be one of those adaptations as long as you’re willing to wait for the silver lining at the end of the 800 words of depressing thoughts.

But think of it like a winter sunset beyond barren trees that actually offers more of a view than a summer sunset. The leaves aren’t in the way, and you’re more likely to see more of the sun drop behind a prairie horizon.

Over the last year, we’ve worked through our stayat-home orders and our shutdowns. We got used to summer dining outdoors and 50% capacity indoors.

We got used to COVID tests on every corner. The governor eventually told us not to invite friends over to watch the Vikings game but raised hope we could do the Twins opener in person. Maybe.

We went to great lengths to study the numbers and not leave the house without knowing the seven-day moving average of COVID cases from Pipestone to Grand Marais. And the death counts were depressing with even the objective press calling them dreadful. Because, of course, they were.

And just for good measure along the way, 2020 offered riots spurred by racial injustice and an election spurred by, well, how we think about racial injustice and a number of other things, not the least of which included the tripling of our annual budget deficit.

When the election came, some 80 million or so cursed the devil of their choice in unison.

Another shutdown came before the holidays hit, but the restaurants could still offer service outside. In January. February.

So the thought of dining outdoors in February

offered somewhat of a respite for the desperate.

A gray-haired woman took the table to the west and ordered a vodka. The waitress brought the heater over that was just about at the height of the lady’s gray hair that was destined for blue.

She was a small woman from the vertical measure but not so much from the horizontal one. As she turned her back to the glowing propane heater, her jacket started to smoke ever so slightly. She turned back around but repeated the exercise again this time, with the faux husky fur of her parka coming dangerously close to the propane element.

I stood ready to help her stop, drop and roll but then thought twice that being a spectator would be more fun and safe as others more agile than me might be able rescue her more quickly as my knee had not fully healed from throwing large tree limbs into the ravine.

But it didn’t happen and she continued to entertain as she twirled from time to time and gave her audience the secret hope they have when they attend NASCAR races.

These are the risks of dining out in the COVID-19 era.

But we take them nonetheless because we miss going out, observing and connecting with others — be it only the winter chill that binds us.

In fact, we’re more cheerful when we get to do normal activities in elements we would previously avoid, well, like the plague.

Then there were the Bloomington hockey grandmas at the Badger Hill Brewing Co. near the horse-racing track in Shakopee.

The Badger Hill folks seem fun with a dose of serious, according to their website which states its three pillars of operating a brewpub: “Be sustainable, Be a great place to work,” and, my favorite: “Be f-----g pro.”

The hockey grandmas are ordering more craft beer — peanut butter stout at 6.3% ABV — than they’re likely able to consume reasonably, and they’re checking with the husband to see what they could bring home.

The cherry beer sounds interesting until it was discovered it was $20 a bottle. “He said just forget it.”

Outdoor dining in February, or January, for that matter, is a new thing, but one like other Minnesota winter adaptations that will soon come to be embraced with bravado on par with ice fishing.

Just as we Minnesotans learn to say “20 below isn’t that bad if there’s no wind,” we’ll soon come to say, “Dining outside in Minnesota winter is no big deal.”

In fact, a restaurant in Verndale began setting up ice houses on its outdoor dining space. Reservations were overflowing and so was the celebration as one Star Tribune scribe noted the more cocktails arrived, the more lively the parties got.

Restaurant entrepreneur Brian Hagen of the Pirates Den also owns an ice house manufacturing company and had a light bulb idea. The phone was ringing off the hook and the ice houses were full of diners reeling in Base Ale instead of bass, Coors instead of crappies and Pilsner instead of pike.

Hagen said dining outdoors in fish houses went so well that he’ll probably keep it up all winter. And for that, he deserves our gratitude.