Queen of the Bondo

Florida Family Gives Up on Small Town North Dakota

At first I thought this was a headline from The Onion. But no — it’s actually true. The Tristanis moved from Miami to Hazelton, North Dakota, in 2006, taking advantage of one of these “psst! sick of urban congestion and crime? we’ve got one foot in the grave and we’ll give you free money and free land if you move here!” deals that have found such favor in the rapidly-emptying spaces of Middle America.

This story interests me from both a creative standpoint and a heritage preservation standpoint. On one hand, what are you supposed to do when you’re a dying rural community? On the other hand:

Michael Tristani came from his native Florida wearing gold necklaces and a Rolex and driving a Lexus. He proved as foreign as a flamingo in a place where pickups, farm caps and flannel shirts are de rigueur.

“People thought I was a drug dealer,” he said.

I want to write a book about this before Carl Hiaasen gets to it. (Seriously, Carl, I’ll fight you for it. Pick your weapon.)

But seriously. The way people relate to their surroundings is something that fascinates me. How people react to outsiders, the often-poignant and sometimes hilarious way people get defensive about where they come from (even when the place is clearly crumbling) — these are themes that I feel acutely in my own life and love to explore in my writing. (Unsurprisingly they’re themes that come up a lot in Rust Belt fiction.)

The tale of the Tristanis also reminds me of when I moved to Montana in 2000. My first experience with Montanans was somewhere between Billings and Bozeman. We’d pulled over to get gas. The gas station attendant eyed our rooftop carrier and Ohio plates suspiciously. “Where you folks headed?” he asked. “Missoula,” we said. “We’re moving there.” He frowned. “It figures. People from The East always go to Missoula.”

Imagine. Ohio — The East!