Having come to this community from Alexandria in 1984, and having spent my first dozen years on this earth in the Twin Cities prior to that, it bemused me to discover an attitude toward Fargo coming from North Dakotans who lived to the south, north and (particularly) west of the city.

Smoldering resentment bordering on irrational hatred is the best way to describe it.

As a Minnesota boy, it was amusing because we’d always viewed Fargo as — no offense — a small city a long way from anywhere. The surrounding area was dead flat, without a lake or tree in sight, and the biggest thing going was a Division II college.

Our sights were always set on the Twin Cities, a couple of hours down I-94 from Alex. It was a true big city of a few million people and all that entailed — traffic, noise, people of color, skyscrapers, pro sports teams, the massive state university, and big-time media. To the best of my recollection nobody disliked Minneapolis-St. Paul or resented the metro area’s success. Just the opposite, as a matter of fact. Going to “the Cities,” as we outstate folk called it, was a big deal. It was fun, different, exciting. For a high school sports team, it meant the ultimate — you’d qualified for a state tournament.

Fargo was Fargo. Cold, flat and windy. What was there to dislike?

It didn’t take me long to discover many folks west of Jamestown (Or was it Valley City? Or was it Casselton?) didn’t hold North Dakota’s largest city in the same regard many Minnesotans held the Twin Cities. “Arrogant” was the word I most often heard associated with Fargo. To which my response would be: “Really? Fargo? We’re talking Fargo, North Dakota, right? The town of, like, 60,000 people right across from Moorhead? Arrogant? Seriously?”

And then I would be schooled on how Fargo thought it was better than everybody else in the state and how it always got everything it wanted and how North Dakotans should vote to give Fargo to Minnesota because that’s where Fargo wanted to be anyway.

To which my response would be: “Really? Fargo? We’re talking Fargo, North Dakota, right? The town right across from Moorhead? Seriously?”

As time passed and I became more aware of the history and nuance of North Dakota, I learned about phrases like “Imperial Cass County” and phenomena like “east vs. west.” There was a history here, as they say.

It is now 30 years after I first arrived, and much of North Dakota (not just the Red River Valley) is rich thanks to oil and the Internet has made the world smaller and the opportunities to travel are easier (if not cheaper) than ever. You can fly direct from Bismarck to Denver, Phoenix or

Minneapolis and one stop will get you from Bismarck to New York City or San Francisco, two of America’s most cosmopolitan cities.

And yet…the resentment lingers. You can see it when those who live in Richland County and oppose the Fargo-Moorhead diversion use the term “Imperial Fargo” when trying to stop a necessary project. You can hear it when state legislators bash North Dakota State University for being, and here’s that word again, “arrogant.” You can feel it with the smugness exhibited toward Fargo by some in the Oil Patch because now they have money.

It is really quite remarkable when a city like Fargo that, for most of its existence, has been a population center and an economic, educational and cultural engine is viewed with disdain because … why, exactly?

It is too big? It is too successful? It is too rich? It provides too many jobs? Too much entertainment? Too much education? Too much music, theater and dance? Is it located too near the (har, har) People’s Republic of Minnesota? Or is it that Fargo has three Applebee’s and Tioga doesn’t have any? Hey, we’ll give you one (or two) of ours, if that’ll make you feel better.

This is so North Dakota. No, this is so 1980s North Dakota. The state should be better than this. Old habits die hard, though. You hear now of westerners believing Fargo has “petroleum envy.” This would be the idea Fargo is jealous of the west’s energy boom.

As somebody who is in Fargo pretty much every day of his life, I admit I’ve never heard anybody say they wish the eastern part of the state had oil. Just the opposite, actually. The west can have the traffic, spills, drugs, prostitution, transient workers and whatever other issues come with the oil boom. The money’s nice, sure, but the baggage is a pain.

No, we’ll take the growing pains of a vibrant, ever-more cosmopolitan city that’s 45 minutes from Minnesota lakes country. Sugar beets and wheat are fine with us.

(Mike McFeely is a talk-show host on 790 KFGO-AM. Follow him on Twitter @MikeMcFeelyKFGO)