Saying goodbye varies from culture to culture. Some wave. Others bow. Still more bid adieu through a series (read eight or nine) attempts to stave off the unpleasantness of saying, "Farewell."
Anyone who lives between longitude 43° 34'N to 49° 23'N and latitude 89° 34'W to 97° 12'W knows what I'm describing is the quintessential "Minnesota goodbye."
The term may be new, but the practice certainly isn't.
Breaking down the "Minnesota goodbye"
Long-time residents are oblivious to it. Outsiders are confused by it. And newcomers living in the land of lakes between two and three years have only just begun to catch on to why saying goodbye at a wedding, cocktail hour or ugly sweater party ('tis the season) feels so unnervingly awkward.
The scenario goes something like this. A couple has decided the time has come to extricate themselves from the social situation. First there's a series of exchanged looks. Maybe a knee nudge or two. A key jingle. Then the inevitable, "Well...we should probably get going." Right around the third exchanged look. The other people in the conversation begin to catch on. They know a goodbye is lurking on the horizon. They begin to fidget and tap their feet as if a bad smell suddenly wafted through the room.
After it becomes clear, the twosome will soon "be going". There's an attempt by both those taking leave and those left behind to prolong the situation. Because leaving just feels TOO FINAL.
There are the salutations to family and acquaintances. "Make sure to say, 'Hello,' to [Insert relative or friend's name here].
Then there's the promise to get together soon. This may happen.
Then the goodbye takes a more nostalgic turn. "I can't believe it's taken us this long to get together. Do you remember when [Insert memory here]?"
Now bear in mind — this conversation isn't one-sided. With both groups, casting memories and salutations around like a fly on the line during fishing season, the "Let's just say a quick goodbye," can take somewhere between five minutes (damn you're good) to 15 minutes (that sounds about right). And you're left holding your keys the whole time.
Embracing the people from Minnesota
Understanding the oral tradition and corresponding social norms surrounding the Minnesota goodbye isn't a knock on the noble people of the North. After all, your authors are THOSE PEOPLE too. Guaranteed. We've been there. And been late because of it.
Rather it's turning an eye inward to understand just what makes the people of the 40-odd parallel so endearingly quirky. (Think Fargo and the famed, "Ok then" phrase parroted by at least three characters in quick succession.)
Following in the tradition of "Minnesota nice"?
Is the Minnesota goodbye a bi-product of the social timidness for which many Norwegian descendants are known? Or is the "Minnesota nice" mentality rearing its head again?
We're more inclined to think beyond Minnesota nice — a catch-all to explain the lovable oddities of long-time land of lakes dwellers.
Consider this a call to the pine-tree hugging, plaid-flannel wearing, beard-grooming lumber Jacks and Jills of the north: Saying goodbye a little faster doesn't make you "Minnesota mean" just more efficient with a little extra time to 'gram the craft beer you just enjoyed with the people you left behind.
