FARGO-MOORHEAD CONVENTION AND VISITORS BUREAU Fargo-Moorhead's Celebration of Women & Their Music
This coming Saturday (February 18th) is the Fifteenth Annual Celebration of Women and Their Music. Im not sure how I was unaware of this event until just this week since Deb Jenkins founded it in 19... Posted on 2/16/12 at 5:04 PM
I like to imagine my mother before I knew her, before she became a mom to my big sister and wife to my father.
I like to imagine her with long, straight hair, jeans hugging her ballerina legs, high heels clicking along the pavement and her tan, elegant arms that opened out wide to the world.
I sat in the passenger’s seat of his Ford and leaned my head up against the window, watching the bare trees wave in the wind as we sloshed through the mud on the red road that stretches, bends and leads us home.
I was 9 years old, and the mid-morning sun was beating down on the scoria road, turning the pink rocks to dust as my legs sent my bicycle tires spinning up the steep hill toward the mile of dirt, pavement and cow plops that separated me from my best friend.
If you were to catch a long-time resident of Boomtown standing in line at the grocery store paying for lunch on the run, fueling up a pickup, or guiding a group of students across a busy Main Street, you might ask what has changed the most about their hometown over the last five years of progress.
I sat in the passenger seat of my friend’s big Ford pickup as she pulled up outside the front door of the local pizza place. We were stopping to grab dinner on our way home from a photo shoot, a job we took as part of a business venture we started together to foster our love of photography and to fill a need in our community.
I spent a few days last week transported to a different world, one where I was surrounded by princesses and bedazzled clothing, bright pink fingernails, fruit snacks, make-believe flying horses, dolphins that can talk and a million questions that needed to be answered.
I grew in a house in a clearing surrounded by oak trees on all sides. Outside my window and behind a restrung barbed wire fence was a homestead that had been abandoned years before my existence, leaving behind lilac bushes, rhubarb plants and a couple apple trees for my little sister and me to climb.
I board a small airplane in the middle of oil country. I lug my suitcase and stand in line behind a stream of young men dressed in ball caps and jeans, backpacks slung over their shoulders, callused hands frantically finding a way to link thoughts to whoever is on the other end of that iPhone.
We used to be mountain people, my husband and I. Well, maybe not mountain people, but people who lived at the foot of the mountains.
It lasted about a year, and it was one of our chosen adventures after our first year of marriage found me on the road singing and my new husband working on the tops of oil derricks for days on end.
My mom owns a department store in Boomtown.
Behind the windows of her storefront on the corner of Main Street and Second Avenue, she sells scarves and blouses, dresses and jewelry, high-heel shoes and other pretty things.
View your ad here! Cost effective targeted advertising. Contextual advertising starting as low as $79/month. This includes targeted ad delivery and search results! Add your business to the Marketplace »