Le Toil de Nord

Walking near the state capitol on my way to the office one recent morning, I passed a couple who were admiring a rendition of the state seal embossed on a building. The image features a man plowing a field under his own power, working around a stump with his axe still lodged in it, and a muzzle loader leans within ready reach. This being the official seal, every detail is mandated by Minnesota Statute § 1.135. In the near background, a "male Indian in loincloth and plume riding on horseback at a gallop...sitting erect and holding a spear in his left hand at an upward 60-degree angle to himself" appears to have the upper hand. The setting--the law requires that the two be looking at each other--unintentionally suggests surprise if not conflict. The pioneer, legislated forever barefoot, appears to have his work cut out for him, and so I wasn't completely galled when I overheard the man say that he thought the state seal's French motto--L'Etoile du Nord--honored the toils of the Norwegians.

But of course he was wrong: it's all about me, the work of Nord. I've been putting my work ethic under some close scrutiny recently, because my day job combined with a compelling and demanding writing gig are requiring my wits to be ever nimble. I recently nipped off from work for a moment to google my old employer, Icicle Seafoods in Alaska, and found some pictures of the fish-packing scheme I once ran there. This reminder of summers filled with sixteen hour days under fritzy light and knee-deep in marine rot gave me a sense of grave respect for what I am capable of enduring. Couple that with a new foreman to answer to at the current day job who shows a strong desire to reconstruct my legal acumen, and the freelance leap suddenly seemed wise and inviting. I'm turning down other work to keep this dry, well benefitted seat, but benefits are what you want them to be. I am less than thrilled with the trade-offs after another winter of rushed migrations on gritty highways through the commuter ravines of Krasnoyarsk to the seat of government.

This is the north star state, where we honor Polaris, the star that does not move, fixed in the northern sky. Winter or summer, Polaris presides atop the north celestial pole. But the state seal also commemorates the northering summer sun, and some of us, like it, must wander. After many summers lost to the artificially lit indoors, this one won't be housed by a day job. Yesterday I had the singular pleasure of giving notice, and the grass suddenly looks much greener.

© 2006 Michael Nordskog