| Tuesday, November 4, 2003 |
13:01 - This here's what America's all about
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'Tis the season, it seems, to Fisk poetry, or at least overanalyze it. And as I was driving in to work this morning, Weird Al's "The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota"-- long one of my favorite songs of his-- suddenly seemed to be a lot more microcosmic of some bigger archetype than I'd really figured before. It's an immensely silly song, yes, but it's as apt an encapsulation of what really drives all us warmongering, inbred, proselytizing, overfed, unsophisticated cowboys to do the things we do as any other piece of popular media that's a product of its cultural environment.
Well, I had two weeks of vacation time coming
After working all year down at Big Roy's Heating And Plumbing
Not a rock star or a movie god, just a regular Joe in a workaday job. What has he accomplished? What has he contributed to society? Well, maybe he hasn't built dams or designed moon rockets, but this is a guy who does his job because it's his duty-- and whatever he makes from it no doubt goes into his family and his house, his own little corner of America that he's helping build.
So one night when my family the I were gathered 'round the dinner table
I said, "Kids, if you could go anywhere in this great big world, now
Where'd you like to go ta?"
They said, "Dad, we wanna see the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota"
They picked the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
...And yet he lives all year for that vacation. And what does he plan to do on his two weeks off? Sit on the couch and eat pork rinds and watch golf? Lie in the hammock and swat mosquitoes? Nope-- his plans center on his family. It's all about the wife and kids, and what they might enjoy. And if they pick something he wants to do too, well, hey-- bonus!
So the very next day we loaded up the car
With potato skins and pickled wieners,
Crossword puzzles, Spider-Man comics, and mama's homemade rhubarb pie
Pulled out of the driveway and the neighbors, they all waved good-bye
And so began our three day journey
Packed to the gills with snack foods and popular media. More than just creating a semblance of homelike comfort while on the road, they're indulging. This is a time to celebrate.
I used to think, by the way, that the waving neighbors were a relic of a time long past. But at the new house, well-- our neighbors would wave.
We picked up a guy holding a sign that said "twine ball or bust"
He smelled real bad and he said his name was Bernie
You never turn away someone who shares your common goals.
I put in a Slim Whitman tape, my wife put on a brand new hair net
Kids were in the back seat jumping up and down,
yelling "Are we there yet?"
And all of us were joined together in one common thought
As we rolled down the long and winding interstate in our '53 DeSota
We're gonna see the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
We're headin' for the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
It's a kooky combination of Route 66 retro and modern suburbia. Of course the whole song's a paean to Americana, but the setting in time and space is deliberately left vague-- the family's stuck in the Leave It to Beaver 50s, while at the same time evidently living in a world of car tape decks and diet sodas. (This song dates from the early 80s, remember.) And kids being annoying in the back seat is as timeless as the interstate that leads to Wally World.
Oh, we couldn't wait to get there
So we drove straight through for three whole days and nights
Of course, we stopped for more pickled wieners now and then
Once you've got the goal in mind, you don't stop or get distracted. But there's always time to feed the economy with snack-food consumption.
The scenery was just so pretty, boy I wish the kids could've seen it
But you can't see out of the side of the car
Because the windows are completely covered
With the decals of all the place where we've already been
There's Elvis-O-Rama, the Tupperware Museum,
The Boll Weevil Monument, and Cranberry World,
The Shuffleboard Hall Of Fame, Poodle Dog Rock,
And The Mecca of Albino Squirrels
We've been to ghost towns, theme parks, wax museums,
And a place where you can drive through the middle of a tree
We've seen alligator farms and tarantula ranches,
But there's still one thing we gotta see
All immensely silly places, but they may as well have been real (some were). Why go to these things? Because they're cool. Where do you think memories come from? It's all so inconsequential, so futile, so false-- but it's all a part of a shared national hallucination that coalesces into something that's all the stronger for it. When a people has this much leisure time, and yet worries at it with such gusto as to find attractions like these to go to and spend their money, it's not decadence, as some accuse-- it's the opposite of decadence. It's the raising of the banal to epic heights. It's the lust for life. It's the feeling-- nay, the conviction-- that while the past may make for good postcards and window decals, the best days always lie ahead.
Shame about that scenery, though.
Well, we crossed the state line about 6:39
And we saw a sign that said "Twine Ball exit - 50 miles"
Oh, the kids were so happy the started singing
"99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall" for the 27th time that day
Another timeless classic. As is the obsessive need to time the trip and track the mileage-- "Are We There Yet?" for the grownups. Because obviously the dad's as big a kid as the ones in the back seat.
So, we pulled off the road at the last chance gas station
Got a few more pickled wieners and a diet chocolate soda
On our way to see the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
We're gonna see the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
Better make sure it's "diet", to cancel out all those wieners and pie. Charmingly naïve.
But here's where we get to the real crux of the thing: the narrowing of perspective, the raising of something so provincial and pointless to the stature of a religious experience:
Finally, at 7:37 early Wednesday evening as the sun was setting
in the Minnesota sky
Out in the distance, on the horizon, it appeared to me like a vision
before my unbelieving eyes
I parked the car and walked with awe-filled reverence towards that
glorious huge majestic sphere
I was just so overwhelmed by its sheer immensity,
I had to pop myself a beer
Yes, on these hallowed grounds, open ten to eight on weekdays,
in a little shrine under a makeshift pagoda,
There sits the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
I tell you, it's the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
Even a holy place charges admission-- and that's okay. There's nothing else in the world that matters. This is vacation time; this is the one little break and reward we give ourselves for a year of uncomplaining labor, and by God we're going to make it worth remembering. We may not be able to change the world in our spare time, but we can at least enjoy the living daylights out of it.
Oh, what on earth would make a man decide to do that kind of thing?
Oh, windin' up twenty-one thousand, one hundred forty pounds of string
What was he trying to prove? Who was he trying to impress?
Why did he build it? How did he do it? It's anybody's guess
Where did he get the twine? What was goin' through his mind?
Did it just seem like a good idea at the time?
Do you really have to ask? Because he could.
And that kind of dedication you've just gotta admire.
Well, we walked up beside it and I warned the kids
"Now, you better not touch it, those ropes are there for a reason"
I said, "Maybe if you're good, I'll tie it to the back of our car
and we can take it home", but I was only teasin'
Then we went to the gift shop and stood in line
Bought a souvenir miniature ball of twine, some window decals,
and anything else they'd sell us
And we bought a couple postcards, "Greetings from the Twine Ball,
wish you were here"
Won't the folks back home be jealous?
Suddenly it all drops back down to Disneyland mode. It's still sacred ground, but now there's moychandising, moychandising. And good for it, too; these guys aren't buying knickknacks and postcards out of a feeling of obligation, but because they genuinely want to remember this experience. Now, it's left sort of open-ended whether the song portrays the whole family's honest emotions, or just this dopey dad and his rose-colored and inscrutable obsession with Americana that the family just indulges him in, for the sake of blessed family unity. But for all intents and purposes, it's all genuine.
I gave our camera to Bernie and we stood by the ball
And we all gathered 'round and said, "Cheese"
The Bernie ran away with my brand new Instamatic,
but at least we got our memories
Aw! That's what you get for trusting people. I'll bet they pick up another hitchhiker on the way back home, though.
Then we all just stared at the ball for a while and my eyes got moist,
but I said with a smile, "Kids, this here's what America's all about"
Then I started feelin' kinda gooey inside and I fell on my knees
and I cried and cried
And that's when those security guards threw us out
Now then, now then. It won't do to get too sentimental over this, now would it? Yet when it comes to paying your respects to something you believe in, there's no limit to the lengths to which you'll go.
You know, I bet if we unravelled that sucker,
It'd roll all the way down to Fargo, North Dakota
'Cause it's the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota
I'm talkin' 'bout the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
And it'd probably reach all the way back to here, too.
Well, we stayed that night at the Twine Ball Inn
In the morning we were on our way home again
But we really didn't want to leave, that was perfectly clear
I said, "Folks, I can tell you're all sad to go"
Then I winked my eye and I said, "You know, I got a funny kind of feelin'
we'll be comin' back again next year"
'Cause I've been all around this great big world
And I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather go to
Than the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
I said the Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota
And in the end, though, it all comes back around to the kids. Whether it has any bearing on reality or not, nothing makes this guy's day more than to see his kids bouncing in glee. And really, that's what makes the Twine Ball such a spiritual destination: sure, it's worth nothing. No symbol has any value, in and of itself. But you can never foretell just what power can grow up around a symbol, or what associations people will form with it. With luck, a symbol's fame and meaning grow, spread, expand beyond its own provincial borders-- and before you know it, people flock to it, though they don't even know why. Money changes hands. Memories are forged. And wealth is created.
These are the foundations of a nation that's so secure in its own existence, its own petty leisure pursuits, that it is willing to dash itself to bits when called upon to save the world. The more ridiculous our diversions are and the more ease in which we live our lives, oddly, the harder we're willing to fight to keep from giving any of it up.
That's the dichotomy that repeatedly confuses the rest of the world about America, while at the same time defining us. And it only looks like a contradiction if you don't live here.
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Brian Tiemann
