While the rest of my family played in the pool, I walked several blocks across the small downtown of Medora, North Dakota, to do some souvenir shopping. I found the shop I was looking for on the tourist map and made my way to an unassuming storefront. It had the same “Old West” façade much of Medora puts forth. From the outside, it didn’t look like anything special.
A small sign reading “Chateau Nuts” hung from a wooden beam overhead. As I peeked through the window, I could see the shop was crowded—although there were only about four people inside. It was much smaller than I expected.
A week prior, I’d posted on Hey Minot—a hyper-local social media page I run—asking for under-the-radar tips and underrated attractions for our trip. I received more than 300 recommendations (and they’re still trickling in). The shop I stood in front of, and the woman who owned it, came up repeatedly as a “must-see” from experienced travelers—right behind the Medora Musical and tied with the famed gas station breakfast sandwich (but that’s a story for another day).
Curiosity burned as I stepped inside. But instead of a spectacle, I found simplicity: a small space, only a few steps to any wall. Cardboard boxes of nuts lined the perimeter in a no-fuss display. On social media, everyone had referred to this as “the nut store,” and that’s exactly what it was.
I made my way around, reading each handwritten label. The script was so similar to my late grandmother’s that a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Once the other shoppers left, I approached the checkout counter. Overwhelmed by options, I asked the woman behind the counter what she’d recommend.
That’s when everything shifted.
She was the “Nut Lady” herself—99-year-old Norma Meyers, the real reason so many people told me to see. She walked me through samples on the counter, a small plastic cup for each flavor. Then the conversation shifted. I’m not exactly sure how—it just did. Some people are naturally good at conversation. Norma is one of them.
“I pray every day when I come downstairs, ‘God, please don’t let me talk too much today,’” she told me with a laugh.
Honestly, I didn’t want her to stop talking.
She’s lived nearly a century and can recall events I’ve only read about in textbooks—with eerie clarity. She is witty, smart, funny, wise, and utterly interesting. I asked questions, and she answered with stories. We talked about her passion for graphology (the science of handwriting), her nut supplier, and North Dakota’s reputation for moving slow. I marveled at the fact that she hand-labels nearly every bag in the store. Eventually, I bought two bags and left.
Since returning home, my mind keeps circling back to Chateau Nuts.
In all the fun and beauty the Badlands and Medora have to offer—the stage shows, traffic-stopping buffalo, breathtaking views, and divine food—what stands out most wasn’t a sight or a show. It was a person. It was an unhurried, genuine moment of connection.
And I can’t stop thinking about that.
The video I shared asking for recommendations before our trip reached more than 70,000 accounts on Facebook alone. Of all the things to do in Medora, a quiet conversation with Norma was one of the top suggestions. Doesn’t that give you pause? Doesn’t it make you wonder if—despite all the brokenness in the world—humanity might still be the most beautiful and valuable thing out there?
Even amid the heartache of life, I’m reminded: there are lovely people living good lives, hiding in plain sight.
In 2025, it’s easy to compare ourselves to others and feel like we’ve somehow fallen behind. But maybe it’s simpler than that. If a small nut shop in a tiny town can become a must-see attraction, then there’s hope for all of us. We don’t have to chase greatness. We just have to live well, love others, and keep showing up with kindness. Maybe if we do that, the legacy we long to leave will fall into place on its own.
In a world that’s moving faster than ever, maybe what we’re really hungry for isn’t entertainment or adventure. Maybe we’re just longing for connection. Maybe the greatest attractions in life aren’t the biggest or flashiest—but the people who slow down long enough to truly see us, speak with us, and share a moment together.
Who knows? Maybe someday you and I will be the ones facing our 100th birthdays—not surrounded by accolades, but by the quiet legacy of a life well lived.
Speaking of things that make a lasting impact—join me here next week. I’ll be sharing why I’ve stopped waiting for something to go wrong before taking care of my body, and how Cornerstone Chiropractic has reframed my perspective of preventative care.
For more on living with a positive mindset and enjoying life right where you are, find me online at amyallender.com or on social media @HeyMinot.
