Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

When I was a kid I felt a breezy, uninformed optimism about the process of growing up. I assumed it would flow naturally, evenly, always moving toward a higher state of consciousness. I assumed that I would experience some tricky teen years and maybe endure challenges in my 20s. But I took it for granted that I’d be all grown up by 30 or (worst case scenario) 35. Then I’d have four or five decades to enjoy being a grownup before the little candle of my soul was snuffed out.

That optimism began to wear thin when I hit my 30s and still felt like a work in progress. I feared there was something wrong with me in my 40s because I still pursued maturity like a greyhound chasing a tin bunny, never catching it . . . hell, never getting near it!

Becoming a parent while I was still flagrantly immature was interesting. When you have a kid, you sometimes have to act like a grownup. I often felt like a fraud at such moments. I wanted to sneak out to the apron of the stage and confess to the audience, “I’m not really an adult, but I gotta play one from time to time.”

Somewhere along the line I sensed I wasn’t the only one still trying to grow up at 40, 50 or 60. One of my best friends is about twenty years older than I, and she routinely experiences breakthroughs in personal growth as she pushes 90. I now understand that most people continue to grow and mature as long as they breathe air. Some of that feels good and some of it stinks, but it seems to be one of the unavoidable realities of life.

I might be more aware of this than most folks, for my life blew up in my face when I was 57, and I suddenly didn’t have any idea of who I was or what I would do when I grew up. I “got” to experience my teen years all over when I was actually in my AARP years, with all the terrors and bizarre rewards of dating. I was plunged into a crash course in self-discovery. It has been fascinating and often harrowing.

Because of this blog piece, I’ve been contemplating changes that I’ve made lately. Without going into tedious detail, I believe I’m much more humble. I’ve always had strong opinions and no shortage of them. Most of my life I was “humble” in the sense of not arrogantly spouting off with my excellent opinions. I now understand that my opinions are often based on crummy data, lazy analysis and wishful thinking. Where I used to act humble, I now am humble because I know many of my pet convictions are just crap. I am doing a better job of keeping quiet when I see people doing dumb things. If they want my wisdom, they can always ask for it. I listen better now.

I continue to be curious about what I will be like when I grow up . . . if I ever do, which seems mighty unlikely after all these years!

What does it mean to be ‘grown up’, and how can you tell when you get there?

Today’s guest post comes from Steve Grooms.

I’ve been a Minnesotan for over half a century. During much of that time if I told a person from elsewhere where I lived, that person would struggle to remember something–anything–about my home state. After an awkward silence, the nearly invariable response was: “Minnesota? Gets cold there, doesn’t it?”

So no wonder I feel grateful for Garrison Keillor. In 38 years of Prairie Home Companion broadcasts, Keillor has rescued Minnesota from anonymity and gone a long way toward defining the Minnesota culture. Although Howard Mohr wrote How to Speak Minnesotan, I think of Garrison as the godfather of that book, having created the awareness of Minnesota culture that permeates Mohr’s book.

The issue of Minnesota culture comes to mind now that the State Fair is over and we begin to feel its absence. Any list of the qualities that define a Minnesotan should start with our fascination—our obsession, really—with this fair. Other states have fairs. The mighty state of Texas has one that runs 24 days, and yet the Minnesota fair beats it in total attendance. No state is quite as proud of its fair as Minnesotans are of ours.

If you didn’t get to The Fair this year, I suspect you are feeling a sense of loss. Possibly even something closer to failure. Nothing defines Minnesotans quite like the obligations we assume.

A less appealing side to the Minnesota personality is our smugness. Minnesotans are too modest to brag, and yet if you scratch them you don’t go very deep before finding the conviction that the Midwest is the most wholesome part of the nation and Minnesota is the best state in the Midwest. By quite a bit!

The most complicated topic in Minnesota is our relationship to weather. We pay more attention to weather and talk about it more than folks anywhere, and yet our attitudes are so complex they almost defy explication. We have, for example, a love-hate relationship with winter that is uniquely Minnesotan.

This blog post itself, in fact, is very Minnesotan.

We are fascinated by our own culture and all the ways we differ from other areas. But the more we Minnesotans talk, the less interesting we seem. I liked this topic a lot when I started with it, then I grew increasingly unhappy, and now I’m wondering why anyone would read all the way to the end, which you almost have.

Maybe you’re still going because you’d feel a little guilty about quitting early? Don’t want to hurt my feelings, even though I would never know the difference?

How very Minnesotan of you.

How do you define a Minnesotan?

This is the final day of the 2012 Minnesota State Fair.
Today’s guest post comes from Barbara in Robbinsdale.

I had never really understood why there’s all that hype around The Great Minnesota Get-Together. My family didn’t go to the Iowa State Fair when I was growing up, and the Marshall County Fair was not thrilling. To me, the State Fair looked like a hot, crowded, dusty and smelly place that made me tired and cranky. Turns out the buildings are so old they aren’t even air conditioned. I would always try to resist buying too much fried food. I ended up walking clear out of my way to find things, retracing steps because I didn’t know where things were in relation to each other. I allowed myself only a few hours at the fairgrounds because I didn’t think there was much that interested me.

Until now, that is. I see that what you need is a “guide” who loves the fair and has been going for decades, really knows their way around so you don’t have to constantly consult a map. It helps if the guide likes some of the same things you like, especially a variety of foods and beverages. It helps if the guide will sit down when you want to sit down, and get you up and moving again with some new enticement.

Here are some things I’ve learned now that I have been guided at The Fair:

1. Take out a small loan to cover costs.

2. Bring a spare pair of comfortable shoes for when your feet get tired, in a backpack or some bag easy to sling over your shoulder, to hold all the stuff you will pick up along the way.

3. If you’re parking at a Shuttle Bus Lot, remember to factor in, time-wise (if you’re meeting someone), the fact that the shuttle will probably be making other stops before landing at the gate. And REMEMBER THE NAME OF YOUR LOT for the return trip.

4.If meeting your friends at the Fair, choose a place near something interesting where there are plenty of benches and freedom to browse. Rather than a set meeting time, pick a time range, i.e. “between 10 and 10:30”.

5. Give yourself at least an hour for the Fine Arts Building so you can find Hans’ (PJ’s husband’s) photo of Milwaukee Avenue.

6. Don’t try to avoid eating – just accept that you will eat and drink plenty of stuff you ordinarily wouldn’t, and it will not kill you. Try something you’ve never heard of, like (OMG) the Australian Battered Potatoes (heavenly without any sauce, thank you). If it looks like way too much food (largely because it’s the 4th food stand you’ve been to), you can split it with a friend, making it almost affordable, or take some home.

7. If there is an event (like ice cream tasting) scheduled at a set time, plan your itinerary around that, especially if Beth-Ann is going to win the prize for creating the ice cream flavor.

8. Don’t forget the Horticulture Building – there is beer sampling, and a display of seed mosaics not to be missed. (There are even rather funny political ones by left-leaning souls.)

9. Ask at an information booth – near the animal buildings – for directions to the llamas (staffers in the far flung booths only pretend to know).

10. It’s ok to let the llamas nibble on you fingers. BRING YOUR CAMERA (which I forgot) so you can get a photo of the llama giving your guide a kiss.

11. Be sure to see the chickens or rabbits, whatever is housed in the Sheep/Poultry Barn – you would NOT BELIEVE how many different sizes and colors of chickens there are! (Unfortunately, goats were not present that day.)

12. Let yourself get teary at all the beauty you will encounter – this only happened to me about a dozen times, as I observed such exquisite masterpieces grown or created by ordinary people among whom I spend my days here in Minnesota.

All in all, I had a wonderful day at the Fair, and can now understand why people go again and again (and again and again). Next time I’ll bring the camera.

(Add your own tips if you like.)

When have you relied on a guide?