America's divisiveness got you down? Some Minnesota towns see an antidote: Improv comedy.

GLENCOE, Minn. – Tane Danger, wearing his signature bow tie, grabbed the microphone inside the old middle-school auditorium that now serves as a community gathering place in this McLeod County agricultural center.

"I've been doing improv comedy, for, oh man, 20 years? Ugh," Danger began. "And it shows." (Laughter.) "But not in my bank account!" (Bigger laughter.)

A few dozen people from this town of 5,674 people an hour's drive west of downtown Minneapolis had come out for a night of improv comedy. But this wasn't your average improv show. Instead, the improv troupe eavesdropped as people from around McLeod County bantered: What do they love about life here? What are the biggest challenges in Glencoe and neighboring Hutchinson, or in surrounding small towns and rural areas? And what do other Minnesotans misunderstand about them? ("We're not all rednecks," said Lance Matheny, a machinist from Brownton.)

Then the troupe improvised a comedy show about this place.

The night's promise was this: We always hear about America's divisions, especially during an election year. Yet we rarely talk about those divisions in a constructive way. By getting neighbors to talk about divisions as well as shared joys, barriers come down and momentum builds so these communities (filled with, ahem, passive-aggressive Minnesotans) continue discussing difficult topics without tearing each other apart.

"One of my favorite quotes is something Stephen Colbert said: 'You can't laugh and be afraid at the same time,'" Danger said. "It doesn't mean you walk out and say, 'You were right, we're all going to hold hands and vote the same way.' But it makes us understand this is somebody else who has similar joys and fears and challenges that I do."

On a July evening at Glencoe City Center, residents gathered over mountainous hot roast beef sandwiches from Bump's Family Restaurant. They told tales about their corner of the world. It was part of a monthslong project, starting before Memorial Day and wrapping after Labor Day, called Sketches of Minnesota. Sponsored by the Minnesota Humanities Center, nearly a dozen communities around the state, diverse in geography and population, were selected after submitting applications.

It's inspired by the Theater of Public Policy, which Danger and friends have hosted in the Twin Cities for more than a decade. Danger interviews a big political name — past guests included Gov. Tim Walz and U.S. Rep. Tom Emmer — then comedians bring civics lessons alive. From that idea, Danger developed another format where audience members split into groups and answer questions about their town, which inspires an improv sketch, "a super-democratic version of theater," Danger said.

The first event was in Winona in May (population 25,842, college town on the Wisconsin border). The project also visited Duluth (population 86,619, gateway to the North Shore), Waite Park (population 8,366, in the St. Cloud suburbs) and Emily (population 863, in lake country north of Brainerd).

Comedians listen as residents tell stories. Then they poke fun at the town in a 25-minute improv comedy sketch: gently, endearingly, with the sketches feeling like love letters to specific corners of the state.

The May premiere in Winona brought a curveball. Minutes in, tornado sirens blared. The group descended to a basement storage area and continued talking about successes and challenges of life there. They talked about navigating a class divide: a working-class town powered by local manufacturer Fastenal, but also an academic town with two colleges. They fretted about their lack of a daily newspaper. They complained about all the new roundabouts. They talked about a push for tourism and how longtime Winonans, like the man whose family settled there in 1860, don't always want that.

By the time the tornado warning was over, it was showtime.

"I moved here in 1860, and I'm the only true resident of Winona!" one actor shouted.

"I've been in this roundabout for over three years!" joked another. "How do I get out of it?"

The crowd ate it up.

In Glencoe, they talked about how their close-knit town wasn't always welcoming to outsiders. They talked about young people leaving the area only to often return. Sue Kieser, who lives outside of Hutchinson, laughed about how locals ask about kin: "They want to be sure: 'Are you my relative? Can our kids date one day?'"

One man said he checks the county jail roster every morning: "Just buddies in jail, or the occasional family member." They bragged about the Friday night toilet bowl races at Silver Lake's Pola-Czesky Days festival. They griped about some unfortunate viral press the area received: the girl who got her head stuck in a truck tailpipe during Winstead's country music festival, or a travel blog naming Glencoe Minnesota's ugliest city — a title residents vehemently disagree with.

And like any rural area in Minnesota, they fretted about housing: "Our elderly don't move out because there's no assisted living, so that means there's no first-time homebuyer homes," said Andrea Matheny, who serves on the Brownton City Council.

Then it was showtime. Comedians gathered onstage, accompanied by a keyboardist. Two actors said they had just moved to Glencoe: "That's so exciting! Who are you related to?" (Laughter.) Danger gave the area a new nickname: "It's a boomerang community: People leave then come back!" The actors poked fun at the city's aging population, saying everyone on their town ball team was over 75: "Oh my God, a young person! You're going to save us!" (More laughter.)

They riffed on the man who checks the county jail roster every morning.

"Dad, you were on the county website three months in a row," one actor said. "We need to talk. Your status is our status. What you do affects how we're looked at in the community. We need opportunities. And if you don't quit riding your lawnmower naked …"

"I CAN'T MAKE PROMISES!" the actor playing his dad yelled.

The troupe has two more shows in August and is planning three additional shows after Labor Day. Later in the fall, the troupe will put together a scripted show incorporating material from each town they visited. Plans are for the show to be performed in the Twin Cities and some of these communities.

"It was just super fun to laugh at some of the things that we might argue about, things we've spent a lot of time discussing and having heartache over," said Marie Zimmerman, who lives outside Glencoe.

Said Tryg Throntveit, director of strategic partnership for the Minnesota Humanities Center: "My hope is that as a result of this experience, people remember that their neighbors are actually pretty complicated people. That can be scary in a way, because it makes it hard to predict everything they can do or pigeonhole them. But it's wonderful, too, because it opens up an infinite scope for finding common ground."