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I already posted from Minneapolis about my Bay Area day (although I left out my visit to the best science fiction bookstore in the world) and seeing Ida at long last. (I didn't post about the plethora of other concerts I missed--among others, Josh Rouse, Erin McKeown, Nadine, and Joe Henry all played within a week of my visit.) I even mentioned Al Franken, who was getting local-hero coverage from the free weeklies.

The big picture of my Twin Cities visit, though, was a strange thing: It felt like the end of the trip. Part of this was probably because four weeks was about all I could stand of constant motion. And also, it was the longest I stopped in one place, and Newton tells us that stopping makes you feel like continuing to stop. And, well, it was just nice there. See the previous paragraph, and know also that people were just friendly in a way I've become unused to. And the weather was beguilingly gorgeous. And without leaving the city I drove for miles along tree-lined creekbeds and lakeshores and, oh yes, the Mississippi River.

Fall foliage across the Mississippi.

But the most satisfying reason, from a dramatic standpoint, is obvious: It was a homecoming. I never lived in the Twin Cities, or even spent much time there. I grew up in a small town about an hour and a half southwest, and for most of that time I didn't drive, let alone own a car, so my visits were limited. But still, they were The Cities, the way New York and San Francisco have since become The City to my suburban homes. I knew their high points. And, although urban Minnesota is different from rural Minnesota, the social atmospheres have enough in common for me to feel right at home.

Seward Co-op Bans Guns.

Downtown Minneapolis street from a skyway.

And then there's family. I stayed with my parents, who now live in Minneapolis, along with my youngest sister, back from Romania. And my other sister, newly engaged, lives with her fiance across the river in Saint Paul. Cousins and their families are scattered around Minneapolis. Everyone who has a family knows it's a mixed blessing, and I sure wouldn't want to stay in my parents' basement forever. But I can't deny the gravitational pull, or the pleasure of being around people who've known me as long as I've been me, and like me anyway.

But of course it wasn't the end of the trip; I still had another 2000 miles between me and my apartment. At first I'd planned to do this in five or six nights, stopping for some open mikes along the way; but now that the trip felt over, I decided to speed it up to four days. We're in the home stretch now.