Stephen Farley's Favorite Places Project

Contributed by Becky Uran Markman

I met my husband, Amit, while volunteering on his kibbutz in the Negev Desert of Israel in the summer of 2000. Our decision to continue the relationship after I returned to the U.S. was greeted by skepticism from most. Amazingly, our connection sustained the long distance and in February of 2001 Amit finally embarked on a two-week trip visit to Minnesota. Ultimately, the highlight of Amit’s trip was the last place I expected to discover: the Minneapolis Impound Lot.

One of our first shared experiences here was attending the U of M Shotokan Karate Tournament, where Amit met friends with whom I studied karate. As we left the tournament the streets were less crowded than they had been upon our arrival. Streets that were lined with cars just hours before were now half bare with the occasional snowplow sweeping easily past. My green Taurus? Gone. Soon the streets became filled with other auto owners perplexed to find their "white sand" (as Amit describes it), none of us expected this light covering of snow would merit a snow removal operation of such magnitude. Our friends, Amy and Viet, offered us a ride to the Minneapolis Impound Lot. Another karateka, Anthony,helped us locate the lot. We arrived to find a line extended far from the temperature-controlled building where we would process our paperwork after a forty-five minute wait in the cold.

Prior to this experience Amit had certain stereotypes about Americans. As a child growing up in the democratic socialist community of Israeli kibbutz, he had learned that capitalist societies, particularly America, were colder than the kibbutz and the people less caring. Additionally, in Israel, Americans were stereotyped as conspiracy theorists. During our time at the Impound Lot one stereotypes was challenged while another upheld. The line filled with indignant auto owners became a place of great fellowship and camaraderie, a demonstration of American warmth indeed. After Amy, Viet, and Anthony delivered us to our destination, I reunited with a former classmate. Later our hungry bellies were filled by the brownies of a fellow Minneapolitan who enjoyed his 21st birthday the night before. As a result of having my car towed, Amit witnessed the warmth these Minnesotans showed in a time of crisis. On the other hand, his notions about conspiracy theorists remained in place as auto owners speculated about the motives the city held for towing hundreds of cars to plow this thin layer of snow.

From Amit’s perspective the towing of the car was the most spontaneous and interesting experience during his trip, perhaps contributing to his theory that people who live in cold climates have warm hearts. For me, the trip to the Impound Lot was a symbolic moment in our relationship; it was one for the first trials we overcame with humor and destination. Amit and I now live in Powderhorn Neighborhood. Winter had become his favorite season.



			Cold Climate, Warm Hearts The Impound Lot






		Contributed by Becky Uran Markman I met my husband, Amit, while volunteering on his kibbutz in the Negev Desert of Israel in the summer of 2000. Our decision to continue the relationship after I returned to the U.S. was greeted by skepticism from most. Amazingly, our connection sustained the long distance and in February of 2001 Amit finally embarked on a two-week trip visit to Minnesota. Ultimately, the highlight of Amit’s trip was the last place I expected to discover: the Minneapolis Impound Lot. One of our first shared experiences here was attending the U of M Shotokan Karate Tournament, where Amit met friends with whom I studied karate. As we left the tournament the streets were less crowded than they had been upon our arrival. Streets that were lined with cars just hours before were now half bare with the occasional snowplow sweeping easily past. My green Taurus? Gone. Soon the streets became filled with other auto owners perplexed to find their "white sand" (as Amit describes it), none of us expected this light covering of snow would merit a snow removal operation of such magnitude. Our friends, Amy and Viet, offered us a ride to the Minneapolis Impound Lot. Another karateka, Anthony,helped us locate the lot. We arrived to find a line extended far from the temperature-controlled building where we would process our paperwork after a forty-five minute wait in the cold. Prior to this experience Amit had certain stereotypes about Americans. As a child growing up in the democratic socialist community of Israeli kibbutz, he had learned that capitalist societies, particularly America, were colder than the kibbutz and the people less caring. Additionally, in Israel, Americans were stereotyped as conspiracy theorists. During our time at the Impound Lot one stereotypes was challenged while another upheld. The line filled with indignant auto owners became a place of great fellowship and camaraderie, a demonstration of American warmth indeed. After Amy, Viet, and Anthony delivered us to our destination, I reunited with a former classmate. Later our hungry bellies were filled by the brownies of a fellow Minneapolitan who enjoyed his 21st birthday the night before. As a result of having my car towed, Amit witnessed the warmth these Minnesotans showed in a time of crisis. On the other hand, his notions about conspiracy theorists remained in place as auto owners speculated about the motives the city held for towing hundreds of cars to plow this thin layer of snow. From Amit’s perspective the towing of the car was the most spontaneous and interesting experience during his trip, perhaps contributing to his theory that people who live in cold climates have warm hearts. For me, the trip to the Impound Lot was a symbolic moment in our relationship; it was one for the first trials we overcame with humor and destination. Amit and I now live in Powderhorn Neighborhood. Winter had become his favorite season.