Post Mills, Vt. There are legions of clam chowder devotees out there. Some are transplanted Dakotans who live on the seafood-rich coasts; others are inland flatlanders who believe that good chowder can be had a thousand miles from the ocean. Responses to last week's column came from chowder aficionados who appreciated my quest for the best bowl, even if they did not agree with my ultimate selection of the marvelous clams-in-the-shell chowder served at Latham House Tavern in Lyme, N.H. Here's a sample.
Lyme, N.H. My quest for the best New England clam chowder started when I was young. Trips to the Connecticut coast or to dining rooms in Hartford, Conn., with my parents and sister always included seafood restaurants. I began what was to evolve into lifelong obsession: finding the best chowder. I think I've found it.
Post Mills, Vt.
Post Mills, Vt. When I insisted the old scythe go in the moving truck to Vermont, my family scoffed. "Gonna cut hay?" one mockingly asked. I ignored her. The weathered, rusted implement made the trip east with more modern things. We'd sold our Sheyenne River house with the big yard, and downsized to a Fargo townhome. Yard and garden tools went to my daughter's rural place in New England where they would be put to good use. Packing the scythe was my indulgence. Never thought I'd use it. Liked the look of it. Loved its history.
Post Mills, Vt. Responses to last week's column on damage in farm country from the president's trade war were mostly favorable. I was surprised. When I write a commentary that exposes the stupidity of Trumpanista cultism, the cultists go all hissy fit. Not this time, so far. A sample.
Post Mills, Vt. I am among the many who will not shed a tear when Trump-loving farmers and business people take it in the shorts because of the president's absurd trade policies. In what is a classic I-told-you-so moment, Trump cultists in red-state farm country and business people who drooled like dogs at the prospect of "the largest tax cut in history" (a lie; it's not even close), are getting their financial butts broiled because of Trump's tariffs and his irresponsible flap-jawing about even more tariffs.
Post Mills, Vt. We are advised to avoid getting attached to things. It's good advice, but some things become more than objects. Think about collectors of vintage cars. Or book lovers. I get that one. I have shelves of books; dozens have attained the status, "keep no matter what." Then there was the lawn tractor. Was.
About the political ad blitz on television. Some good, some not. Airtime is being sucked up by the U.S. Senate race between Sen. Heidi Heitkamp, D-N.D., and Rep. Kevin Cramer, R-N.D. Independent assessments say it's a close race. It will get closer. The TV ads? Best spot so far: Heitkamp. It's a low-key coup by former Cass County deputy sheriff and West Fargo police chief Arland Rasmussen.The retired officer all but calls Cramer a liar.
Responses to last week's column on the names of Fargo and West Fargo strip malls and other developments were swift and mixed. All came from Fargo residents. Here's a sample. A caller said, "Right on. I've never seen so many goofy names of apartment buildings and shopping areas, and I've lived in a few cities. Saw one in town—can't remember where—called 'Shore View' or something. You know where the shore was? Along a drainage ditch. Nice view, eh? That's like naming a condo on the Maine seacoast 'Prairie View.'"
Out and about: Why do developers and builders hang stupid, even ironic names on subdivisions and shopping districts? Why do Fargo and West Fargo city planners and elected officials either ignore or condone place names that are not representative of the places? Vacuous. Absurd. Dishonest. West Fargo and Fargo are not unique to this goofy phenomenon, but our cities along the Red and Sheyenne rivers have some beauts.