by Sally Morem

Created on: August 02, 2009

The Long Minnesota Goodbye

Here's a phenomenon that many of you raised in Minnesota (or perhaps other Midwestern states) are probably familiar with: The Long Minnesota Goodbye. It was given that perfectly fitting name by Howard Mohr in his book, "How to Talk Minnesotan."

When I read his description in that book, I realized it fit my parents to a tee. I have no doubt but that his parents did the exact thing. He described it so well; he must have gotten it from personal experience. See if you recognize anyone you know here.

After a long, friendly visit with friends or relatives (presumably with "a little lunch"), one of the visitors would inevitably get up, stretch, and say, "Oh, where does the time go?"

One of our parents would then ask, "Well, you can stay a little longer, can't you?"

They can and do. Then they repeat the above exchange one or two more times, and then start heading for the door. They talk about other friends or relatives, the weather, travel conditions, the Twins, the Gophers, the Vikings, or anything else that comes to mind, just to prolong the genial proceedings.

They walk out the door. Our parents follow. They stand outside the door and talk some more. Then they move to their car. They stand outside the car. They continue the conversation.

They'll eventually get inside the car. The driver rolls down the window. Our parents stand near the window. The conversation continues. By now, they're repeating the observations they made earlier. They've actually run out of new things to say awhile back.

Finally, ever so reluctantly, the visitors drive away. They wave. Our parents wave. We wave.

My sister, brothers, and I would watch this dance in an odd combination of fascination and boredom. How long are they going to keep this up? What are they doing anyway? We would follow our parents outside the door and onto the driveway. If we had had sporting natures, we would've been taking bets on estimated departure times before we left the house.

Sometimes this would happen in reverse when we were visiting relatives. Instead of waiting for Mom and Dad to get going, we'd play outside. We figured "Why not?" It would be some time before we got into that car while awaiting those regular proceedings.

Of course, bad weather would generally speed things up a bit. No lingering beside an open car door window in a blizzard.

Now, looking back on those old memories, it seems obvious to me what was going on. They were telling each other in unmistakable body language that they were enjoying each others' company and didn't want to go, but knew they had to go, but, oh, we don't want you to go, even though we know you really do have to, it's such a shame, because we really, really, really don't want such a lovely time to end. And so on.

And so, the unmistakable message of love and high regard was sent and received. And, generally in the late afternoon, that long, long dance known now by the grace of Mohr's writing as the Long Minnesota Goodbye would finally, finally, finally end.

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