Wednesday, October 19, 2016


Yesterday, October 3rd, my friend and I went out on Crosslake, in his pontoon for one last ride around the lake. It was a beautiful fall day with temps in the 70’s, and a soft breeze that seem to whisper in your ear. Add to that, a quiet lake that we seemingly had all to ourselves. The fall colors picture-framed the homes as we skirted the shorelines and yards that had been hidden in foliage last summer but were now exposed, showing shuttered cabins and outbuildings. Leaves floated like little sampans on the still surface, while docks and boatlifts that once seemed to be so uniformly placed in the water, now littered the shoreline, shoved helter skelter, wherever there was a place to accommodate them. It looked like a scattered picture puzzle, with random pieces here and there; all waiting for springtime to come and bring some semblance of order back to the lakeshore again, but at least for today, all of it was a reminder of a summer that once was.

To me yes, it was the beginning of the end, of another summer solstice here in the lake country. But the serenity of it all that day overshadowed the loss of the season.  A summer that here in the lake country we have lived and loved through so many times before. Oh, there have been other hints of change lately. Some subtle, some more profound. Last Sunday the boys of summer put their gloves, balls and bats away. Across the lake shotguns rang out and the hunt was on. The squirrels have never been busier. I cut down a hollow tree the other day and there must have been ten pounds of acorns stashed in side of some creature’s winter home. I hope they find other accommodations before it gets too cold. I left all of the acorns for them.

I couldn’t help but think as we trolled along how much life has changed for me and for this area. That whole trip that day was so much more enjoyable, because I was with my friend. A man I have known for over sixty-five years. That’s what we want out of life isn’t it? To be able to share our highs and lows with someone and especially a chance to share a wonderful fall day. I thought back to five years ago when I was so lonely and life looked bleak indeed and then I met another friend. A very special lady who took me from the dumps to the clouds. There’s been many new memories we’ve made together and hopefully more to come. She brought with her and into my life, a whole new entourage of people, family and friends. All of them special in one way or another and all of them making my life better.

But then I thought about the sad changes, not in my life but what has come to this wonderful corner of the world. When I came here in 1984 there were no Zebra mussels, no milfoil. No spiny water fleas or other invasive species that threaten to destroy this Eden. The words, “personal watercraft,” were not in my vocabulary and seventy-five horses was a big outboard.  Mom and pop resorts were still flourishing and no one was tearing down ninety thousand dollar homes to build million dollar ones. But despite all the many changes the town was-- and still is Crosslake and it’s synomonous with a summer playground. You can go to the far corners of this country and people all know where Crosslake Minnesota is. I’m proud of that and proud to live here. Thanks Marv for a great afternoon and thanks Crosslake.

Thursday, October 13, 2016



Molly is four 1/2 years old now and one would think that somewhere along the line, she would slow down and act like one of those old fat Labradors that lay in the corner of the room and sleep and fart. That’s what I have been waiting for but alas I don’t think Molly has heard about that stage of a dog’s life. She is still stuck in high gear and shows no sign of slowing down. Each day I take Molly for a walk and she likes to be off the leash. This works fine as she stays out of the road and stops and sits when cars go by. But there is an exception I can’t break her of. Meeting other people or other dogs. She thinks she’s Miss Congeniality and when she sees someone, or something else, well, in her mind at least, introductions are in order. Now, not everyone takes to a seventy-pound Lab barreling down on you with baited breath. So when we spot someone coming towards us, the leash has to go back on and she turns into a sled dog. I usually retreat to the side of the road and kick two divots into the ground to plant my heels in, otherwise we are both going to meet the new people like it or not. If you are a new acquaintance the fervor is a little more subdued then someone who is already in her friends and family book. But make no mistake about it she wants you in there too.

Outside of squirrels, which she detests, other animals are seen as playful companions too. Once, while off leash she spotted a skunk and she was off to make his acquaintance. Now the encounter was out of my eyesight but I saw her bounding towards him and I know she was saying, “Hey there cutie, lets run around together.” I really dig that stripe you having going down your back.  I know she didn’t attack the skunk because when she came back, her face dripping with that delectable juice, it was only her face that got sprayed. Being she likes to check out the rear quarters of all other animals first. I can only surmise that she found out the hard way, there is a weapon at the end of that stripe. Not that she will ever remember that.

She also likes to dig out pocket gophers and she’s quite good at it. She checks all of the mounds looking for the freshest one. Finds the back door and starts digging. I have spent fifteen minutes filling the hole back in when she is done. She might as well have a Bobcat decal on her butt once she starts the evacuation. She has caught one that she proudly brought up and put on my back porch. “Sorry God but that is the most butt ugly creature you ever created. I would have kept them underground most of the time too, if I looked like that.”

So people ask me. “What is there about this over exuberant, dimwitted dog that you like so much?” Maybe it’s just that she likes me so much. Maybe it’s because she is so non--judgmental to a man with way too many opinions. Maybe it’s because at the end of the day when she lays on the couch with her head in my lap, she knows, she has a friend who appreciates her, despite all of her many imperfections. Maybe its because she knows I always take too much ice cream in the evening and she has to do me the favor of finishing off the bowl. Maybe its because living by myself I need someone to talk to and she never disagrees with me.

Wednesday, October 5, 2016



I have on my desk a picture of an old abandoned barn. Sandwiched between the side of the barn and the cement block silo, is the milk house. Its roof is sagging and on the verge of collapse. The door is open, hanging askew and if you could see inside you would probably see an old cream separator and several rusty pails in the corner. On a shelf is a cardboard box with some left over milk filters. On the wall is an old calendar from 30 years ago with notations of the times when certain cows were due to calve. I remember as a kid turning that long handle on a separator. It was geared very low, to make it spin fast enough to do the job of separating the cream from the milk and your arms would ache after just a few minutes of turning it. This room, now littered with dirt, debris and dust used to be the cleanest room on the farm

The barn in the picture still stands tall and proud but rows of shingles have fallen off and its just a matter of time until the rains rot out the roof boards, floors and the framework and it too will succumb to gravity and fall into ruins. The once brilliant red and white paint job is now a faded blotchy red with more gray then color. It once held rows of stanchions’ where the cows would almost magically march into the stall they were assigned, to be milked and fed. As a dairy farmer you held a certain kinship with each and every cow. They were your girls and you took good care of them. They in turn took care of you. The haymow doors now hang open like a big yawning mouth. One of them is dangling, by one rusty hinge. A rotten rope and an old block and tackle still hang in the peak. The huge loft is now empty but in better days it would have been packed with winter fodder for the girls downstairs. Now it is littered with beer cans and garbage from young people who come here to party.  

If there were a job description for a dairy farmer it would go like this. Wanted one dairy farmer. Hours are from sunup to sundown and on call after that. Seven days a week and fifty-two weeks a year. Duties will include but not be limited to caring for a herd of cattle and other farm animals. Planting, cultivating and harvesting food for the animals and your family. Milking the cows twice a day and seeing to their health and well being. Maintaining a fleet of equipment and assorted buildings. You will become out of necessity, a welder, a butcher, a carpenter and a businessman. Benefits are slim for you and your family. No health insurance, no dental insurance, no sick days, no holidays or vacation. No workmen’s comp, no maternity leaves and the retirement plan is what you can manage to put away. When you retire and if you retire, the farm will probably be sold because if you bequeath it to your children the taxes will put them in such a financial hole to start with, it will be economically unfeasible to stay in business. Most likely the farmland will be sold to a bigger conglomerate or rented out. The same family for a century or better has operated some of these farms but now it’s the end of the road.

Yes we are seeing the end of the family farm, as we knew it. Each year more and more of them call it quits. It’s sad and the end of an era but progress if you can call it that, is sometimes mean. At least we still have the memories of the family farm, even if they’re only in a picture of an old abandoned barn. Soon that too will be lost.

Wednesday, September 28, 2016



There have been many examples of what mans greed has done to our way of life. Even when a bad outcome is for certain, we still press on, incredulous to the outcome.  We see it with the warming of the earth as it pertains to burning fossil fuels. We see it with the national debt, piling up to a point where it will become impossible not to avoid some kind of financial collapse. We see it with tobacco users who shun the statistics and say, “Not going to happen to me.” but all of these outcomes pale in comparison, to what is happening to our drinking water because well---we can’t live without it. We, who live in such abundance, when it comes to water, often forget about the others.

Deep beneath the earth lie reservoirs of clean clear water. They have been there for tens of thousands of years and longer but it has only been lately that we have had the ability to pump them dry like we are doing. You see three quarters of the earth is covered with water. The bad part of that is, most of it isn’t fit to drink. The water that is fit to drink is ether in these aquifers, or it comes from rivers that drain runoff from the land. Runoff from rain or snowmelt. The problem is a whole lot of people don’t live near a water source from runoff, so they pump and pump.

There are parts of Oklahoma and Kansas where they are going to have to turn back to dry farming. There is no more well water to be had. The aquifers have been depleted. These farms have huge investments in land, equipment and structures. Just not farming the land is not an option. They are turning their thirsty eyes to other sources like us. That’s the way greed works in America and it’s a weak point of capitalism. Worry about tomorrow when the time comes. For now, just make all of the money you can. There comes a time in everything when you just plain wear it out and some of that is not avoidable. Sad to say we are wearing out a part of the earth that could be avoidable. Depleting it of its natural resources. Poisoning the very air we breathe and the water we drink and all in the name of making money.

Parts of California are caving in due to the empty aquifers that are under the land. Bridges and highways are breaking apart. There is no fixing that. Some seaside communities in Florida fear seawater draining into their underground aquifers and poisoning the little fresh water they have. Yes, the oceans continue to rise from melting glaciers and encroach more on the land every day. The population of the United States has remained fairly stable. We grow far more food then we need but there is a world market for it. When the time comes that you sacrifice the country your kids have to live in, to make as much money as you can, well that’s just sad.

None of this is eminent but it is inevitable the way we are going. Old farts like me will have water to drink and food to eat for the rest of our lives. But the generations to come, which you would think we would care about, will not. Modern technology may help with things like desalination but you cannot produce enough water this way to irrigate half of Kansas. This once, bread bowl will turn back into a dust bowl and those waves of amber grain we once sang about, will be no more.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016



There are days that I can’t believe how cruel our world is. Days when I try to comprehend why adults kill children and days when I can’t begin to understand all of the hate that that goes on in this world. Days when my empathy is taxed, watching all of the suffering that goes on —yet at the same time there are days when I can’t understand those who can ignore it all and go on with their own happy carefree lives, as if it doesn’t matter or pertain to them. This inattentiveness is as much of the problem, as those who created the problem in the first place.

To those of you who think that the filth on the Internet, newsstands, movies, etc that you try to explain as your first amendment rights doesn’t play into this, think again. It not only fosters it, in some respects it encourages it. It is sad enough when a child dies from some disease or in an accident but for a child to die at the hands of some perverted, sadistic, criminal seems to defy all logic. This kind of behavior has always existed but it gets more prevalent each day in a society that seems to have less and less morals, with each generation. Almost, with out exception, the homes of these predators when they are caught are filled with porn.

We need changes in our mental health care for sure, but maybe a little bit of decency in the world these predators grow up in, would help them not get to this level in the first place and not be a predator and now that I have said this, I will sit back and listen to all of the people who will say, “preventing porn would never have stopped this.” I will listen to the defense attorneys that will beg for leniency for the person who did it because he had a rotten childhood. I will do all of this and wait for the next child to die while people tell me, “That’s life, get used to it.”

A while back, in the small town of Watkins Minnesota they buried the latest victim of this kind of perversion. No amount of words, no rationalization, no excuses can bring peace to her troubled family who has truly lost a part of their family they had big hopes for. There will be an empty desk in the school where this innocent child would have been starting her formal education. There is an empty bed in her parent’s house and an empty feeling in their hearts no one can fix. One can only shudder to think what this child went through before she was killed and thrown into a swamp. Events like this impact everyone, even those who didn’t know this child. Children today have to be brought up in fear of the world around them, much as a young fawn has to fear the wolves. To those in society who are good people, they get lumped into the category of not to be trusted either, no matter there good intentions and no one blames the parents for feeling that way.

There has to be a special place in heaven for this little angel and for Jacob Wetterling far away from the bad people and close to the heart of God. There are those who will ask us, “how God could let this happen?”  I say “God gives you a free will to live your life anyway you want to.” As my dad used to say. “He gives you enough rope to hang yourself, if that’s what you want.”

Tuesday, September 13, 2016



A couple of years ago I traveled to Brooklyn Park to say goodbye to an old friend. Rog had passed away the week before and I had another hole in my heart. Although we hadn’t seen much of each other lately, we packed a lifetime of memories into the years we were together. When we were both starting out in life we lived across the street from each other. Our kids played with each other and our wives became good friends. At that time I was stuck in a factory job I hated and one day Rog told me to put in an application where he worked with the city and the rest was history.

For the next thirty years we worked together, played together and enjoyed each other’s friendship. Trips to the boundary waters to fish, and trips to Sparta on the range to deer hunt. We fought many a fire together on the fire department. Trimmed trees and flooded skating rinks and plowed snow in twenty below weather. Rog always led by example. He was a soft-spoken man but if you didn’t pull your weight, he was quick to tell you and although small in stature he backed down from no one, if he thought he was right. I never knew a harder working man.

I got to know some of his siblings and family including his parents, steeped deep in their Finish culture. Rog was so proud of his family and their heritage. He liked to sprinkle a little Finnish into his conversations from time to time. Always in the morning it was hyvaa huomenta, when he first saw you and at night hyvaa yota. His pocketknife was a puukko and a match for his cigarette was a tulitikku. He would count, yksi, kaksi, kolme, nelja, and viisi when he counted up to five. He had that sly little smile when he spoke in Finnish because he knew that only a Finn could talk that sing songy language. He celebrated St. Urho’s day every year and he was an Iron ranger at heart. He said they called me “The Sparta flash,” in school where he played hockey.

Teddy Roosevelt said, “Walk softly and carry a big stick.” That was Roger’s mantra too. He led by example and with him it worked because you saw how much he loved life and people and you couldn’t help but want to emulate him. Sadly missed but never forgotten.

I have a drawer in a hutch, where I put all of the obituaries of my friends and family. For a long time it was maybe one or two a year. But lately the drawer is filling up because---well life-- or should I say death is catching up with all of us. Sometimes I look through the drawer and each obituary and I try to think of the good that I drew from that person. How they were special or different from the others in the drawer. How they made my life better and in some case completed me. We are all a work in progress from birth to death.  If we were smart, we took the lessons that were shown us by others and learned from them but it was the love we had for each other that meant the most. Love is unique because it is so personally tied to you and the giver and in the end it is the greatest gift you can ever give to anyone.

Friday, September 9, 2016



This past weekend I was a guest at another family reunion. A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the Holst family reunion and now it was a chance go as an outsider to Pat’s family reunion. It was held in Door County Wisconsin and I know those of you who have been there; know the beauty of that place, nestled on the rocky shores of Lake Michigan. The flowers, cherry trees, the quaint little shops and inns that dot the rugged shoreline, only serve to accent the natural beauty of this place but I’m not here to talk about the scenery, I’m here to talk about some people.

Every time I make a new friend, and I made a few with this family, I want to get inside their heads and see the past as they saw it. For within those same minds lie the stories that need to be told and the secrets of why they were all there that weekend. Oh we don’t want to hear stories of failures-- we’ve all made mistakes and their best noted and forgotten, but instead stories of the successes and the undying love that still brings them together at times like this. You see, I don’t care how much money you make or what kind of car you drive or how many degrees you have. I care about the hearts you’ve touched along the way in this incredible journey called life and mine was touched by what happened next.

At this gathering was a ninety-year-old woman who is the family’s matriarch. Crippled and slowed by old age, her body definitely showing the signs and wear of a long lifetime of living. But yet at the same time, showing it all with grace, and carrying it with pride. For it’s in the eyes of a person that we find that inner fire that never dies until they do and her eyes glowed with so much pride that day, for all to see. As that last day wound down, and the last jokes had been told and the last meal had been consumed, her family saw to it that the focus of that day was changed from those people’s relationships with each other to her. Instead, now, there was a hush over the party and that spotlight was put on Mom and it was touching. All the day’s games were now over, the fire was now out and it was time to roll the credits and right there amongst all of them, was the appointed leader of that great family. What happened next was only fitting and proper. I’ll leave it at that.

There is a certain amount of responsibility that goes into the changing of the guard. Generations die out, only to be replaced by new ones, with new ideas and different values. But at the end of the day, we all have a sincere responsibility to see that we keep those things alive, that worked so well, for so long, for our ancestors. True, something’s in life can and will be replaced by new technology but nothing will ever replace the love and caring that can live in the human heart if we let it. If that doesn’t happen we will have all lived our lives in vain. You can emulate it all you want but only if you mean it and it’s here that actions speak louder then words. It’s also here that being a copycat isn’t wrong but the sincerest form of flattery.  This one’s for you Aunt Marilyn. God bless you and your family

Wednesday, August 31, 2016


Labor Day. Wow already. What happened to Memorial Day and the Fourth of July and the summer family reunions? Where did those lazy evenings with spectacular sunsets and loons crying across the lake, slip off too? Where did all the summer celebrations around the lakes go, with endless craft shows, parades, picnics and fairs, so many you could scarce fit them all in. Quiet pontoon rides around the chain and days at the beach with those you love. Now, all of them, just another treasure trove of memories, entered in our book of our life.

Sometime in the next few weeks. The humming birds will steal away in the night for their winter trek and the feeder will swing empty on the hook. Already the birch trees are turning yellow, the apples are turning red and begging to be picked and the acorns are falling. The sumac is turning red and yellow school buses are making their rounds. Sometime soon those loons that played of the end of my dock all summer will be gone and the waters won’t be so inviting. Slowly one by one the docks and lifts will vanish and all the boats and toys will be put away. We will close the windows once again in the evening, as the nighttime breezes bring in a chill. Mornings are all ready darker and evenings are shorter and a fire in the fireplace seems comforting. Only a few stray Mums’ still show their summer blossoms.

They have a saying on the license plates in Florida, “Endless summer.” Seems inviting doesn’t it? But believe me there is something to be said for our theater of seasons. There is something to be said for the warm fall days, with no bugs, when the world is all colored in reds and yellows, as the leaves become our autumn flowers. The words heat index, and tornado watch have been put away for another year. There is something to be said about fishing without greasy sunscreen and for the hunters the fall season is here. It’s a time when farmers can take a breather with their crops tucked safely away in the granaries and bins and mom’s can relax too, with the kids safely back in school.

Years ago Johnny Mercer wrote the song ‘Autumn.’Those falling leaves drift by the window. The autumn leaves of red and gold. I see your lips, the summer kisses. The sunburned hands I used to hold.” For a few years those lyrics rang so poignant to me. I’m sure to anyone who said goodbye to a loved one this summer---you know what I mean.    Since you went away the days grow long. And soon I’ll hear old winters song. But I’ll miss you most of all my darling. When autumn leaves began to fall.  Yes how true it was  but there comes a time for all of us when grief is tempered. When you pull up the shades of sadness and face what’s left of your life with a new perspective on life.

I have always felt that autumn comes on to you like an old friend you haven’t seen for a long time. Its role is to let you down easy, before the rigors of winter. Cold today, warm tomorrow, colder the next and then less warm until you stop looking back at summer and start dreaming about the spring to come.

Thursday, August 25, 2016


Last week, Pat and I went to the Crow Wing County fair, as we have done many times in years past. Not a lot changes at the fair from year to year but you know what? Not a lot has to change because it’s still enjoyable. We had heard about the storm the night before and the damage it had done but you had to look hard to find any ill effects. So many people had worked hard to put things back in order, when it would have been so easy to quit because they knew the show had to go on.

It was fun for me to once more walk through the livestock barns and see all of the critters; I remembered so well as a kid but had lost touch with after so many years of city living. To see the old tractors and think how hard people worked back in those days when luxury on your tractor, was some foam rubber to sit on and not air conditioning, G.P.S. guidance systems and satellite radios. We sat on a wooden bench and listened to the music for a while. Old country tunes that have worn a notch in the airwaves but you never seem to tire of them. We ate roast beef brisket and rich ice cream and damn the calories because just for tonight-- no one was counting.

I saw some smiling kids on the pony rides and I remembered a time and a place when my three little kids did the same. Then I saw a tired mom who was trying to keep two kids and a baby happy, short on cash and energy and I wanted to say to her,”Hey let me buy them kids some ice cream and some ride tickets,” but I knew that in today’s society that’s a no, no. I think my empathy had been triggered by a long suppressed memory of a time in 1947 when our Mom, my kid brother, and I and our baby brother in a buggy had walked to a carnival on the outskirts of town. I remembered watching all the kids my age on the rides, squealing and laughing and having a great time. I remembered watching older people work the digger machines trying to get that elusive gold watch. I saw them throwing the rings around the pop bottles trying to win a stuffed animal. But we, as a family, could only watch because we had no money. Then on the way out we passed a cotton candy machine and for a moment we stopped and watched the man spinning the cotton around those pieces of cardboard. Then somebody saw us and gave mom a couple of coins and she bought two of them for my brother and I. On the way home mom tripped on a broken sidewalk and fell cutting both of her knees. She was bleeding and crying and we all cried because our mom was hurt but I know today, she cried mostly because we were so poor and she had wanted so badly to do more for us.

I think often about the things that were so instrumental in my life, growing up from those humble beginnings. Things that still set the standard for me today. You see those things that were so important back then, for building character and being a good person, are still important today. We haven’t found any shortcuts in life to accomplish this any better or faster. No magic potions, nothing you can download or upload or buy at the store of good intentions. It’s always been there in the hearts of people, just like the man giving mom those nickels. Love and caring is like taking a shoot from a plant and starting your own plant. All it needs is a place to grow.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016



Today I turned the calendar over, to the month of August and in some ways it felt like the last dance. Summer in Crosslake is mostly measured in three short months and August for many is the last hurrah. County fairs, ripening crops and kids trying to pack all the fun they can, into the last dog days of summer before they turn their attention back to school. Sometime soon the leaves will loose their green luster, wilt around the edges and drop. Those humming birds that drained my sugar canister this summer, will head south once more where the flowers are still blooming. Morning sunsets will now come later and evening sunsets earlier. The garden will be littered with rotting vegetables that didn’t make the cut and the apple trees, burdened down with their crop, will beg to be picked.

For me it will be remembered as the summer my loving friend and I stood on a deck at McKinley Lodge in Alaska, like kids waiting for Santa and waited patiently for the clouds to part, so we could see Denali. She knew my love for that Mountain and wanted so badly for me to see it but it was also the day when I realized in my heart that seeing the mountain would have been nice, but being there with her was the most important thing to me. It was another summer of reunions, pontoon rides, fishing and picnics. Concerts in the park, sail boating on Lake Michigan and evenings that we just sat with a gin & tonic and didn’t say anything because the evenings were made for just absorbing the world around us and not spoiling it with chatter. There will be time enough for that when the seasons done.

This will be remembered as the summer when I found out I have great grandbabies on the way and the start of whole new generation. The summer when friends I loved, went home to their just reward and left me with another hole in my heart. The summer when six inches of rain flooded the lake and strong winds took some of my oldest trees. The summer when Molly went nose to nose with a skunk and somehow came out smelling like---well still smelling like Molly, hallelujah. The summer when the kids next door came back to the lake another inch taller and I finally realized what happened to all of my grandkids. When some projects that needed doing, got done, and I found out that my old body needs better care, more rest and easier projects.

It sadly is also the year when people found out they could get some attention by killing other people and our politicians lost all of their self-respect in a never-ending scrum for power. The year more glaciers melted, the air got more polluted and the water too. The year our kids learned less in school but cost more to educate. But this essay started out to be what was right about this world and not what’s wrong with it, so let’s just end it at that.

For seventy-five years August has rolled around but never has it meant, what it means to me today. Maybe its because the coupon book of my life has fewer August coupons then it had before and I’m finally realizing it.

Wednesday, August 10, 2016



I think when my parents started our 1st family reunion, some thirty-nine years ago; they knew that it would accomplish many good things. That at least for one weekend a year, their kids, grandkids and great grandkids would gather to renew old acquaintances’, reminisce and enjoy each other’s company once more. They knew they won’t be around forever but they hoped that this family would be here forever, for each other. They knew over time the family would grow and change with new faces and sadly some would leave the family. They also knew it was important that we never forgot where we came from, no matter how much time has passed. They also knew that somewhere in our D.N.A lies a common bond.

For the original siblings the gathering has become bitter sweet. We lost our parents, our little brother a couple of years ago, my beautiful wife and cousin Jim too and time has taken a toll on our bodies and minds. This becomes more obvious to each of us every year. We have learned that time shows no mercy and sometimes an hour can be like a day. But yet that hour is there and you have to live it, in the best way you know how. I think most of us feel that same time, ticking and pressing down on us and know that our turn will come someday and maybe sooner then later. But sometimes-good things fall apart to make room for better things to happen. New spouses and new partners, have been brought into the family and from those unions have come beautiful replacements to carry on in the coming generations for those who have fallen by the wayside. It’s our hope that all of this renewal overshadows the sad changing of the guard and keeps things up beat and growing.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Every man is a quotation from his ancestors.” Another quote I have always liked is. “Like the branches of a tree, our lives may grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one.” From the time of that first reunion, until today, our world has evolved from what we knew then, to what it is today. As with all changes, some of it can be a hard pill to swallow but I’m sure that was as true back then, as it is now. I remember at one of the first reunions coming dressed in some bell-bottom trousers that were in style back then and my dad shook his head and said. “What in the hell is the matter with you? I never dreamed I would raise a hippy. Go change your pants before anyone else sees you.”

For many years our reunions went from campground to campground. We went on the cheap and had storms and bugs and campgrounds that said they were booked up when we tried to come back. Funny how they can be filled up for the next year, the day after our reunion ends but oh well, we did have a good time. Back then a night sleeping on a tree root and a rock, in a leaky tent with three bawling kids got old in a hurry and evolved into fifth wheel campers and motor homes. We have now graduated to our brother’s hobby farm where he might want to kick us out but can’t and now it’s up to the younger generation to keep it going for the next one.

Wednesday, August 3, 2016


I just returned from a vacation in Alaska and being the nature lover I am, you can guess how happy I was. For you see Alaska is nature on steroids. I went there hoping that it was going to match my expectations and came home to say, “It far exceeded my expectations.” There are no words to do justice to it. It is called the “Last surviving Frontier” and although that is fitting, that title smacks of cynicism, as if that is a temporary title, soon to be replaced by the words “It was the last surviving frontier.” The signs of its demise are starting to show, and how soon it will be called that, depends on how soon man can ruin it.

When I speak of man ruining the earth I acknowledge that much of what happens is inadvertent and that just by being here and contributing to the waste products that are the culprits for our demise, we bear responsibility even though for the most part this was not our intention. Once we get to this point instead of the attitude that many in our country have.-- The attitude that says, “Lie about it and say it isn’t so,” then at least we have something to work with. We may not be able to solve the problem completely but at least we can put it off so future generations can enjoy it also. Those who scoff at this need only to go to Alaska and see the evidence of melting glaciers and disappearing wildlife because you can only lie about it so long before reality bites you in the butt and then only a fool will believe the lies.

Discussions are being held all over this country about where to drill for oil and what to do with public lands. The money barons see the outcome only in their pocket books and not what’s good for the country they don’t see what John Muier saw when he founded our National Park system. Their greed is a parasitic action that in the end allows you neither the wilderness nor the wildlife. But they don’t care because its what is in the bottom line of their ledger book that counts and not what is done to this earth. In some cases, it is intrusive enough to just let the people in our national parks to look; the balance is that delicate but to be realistic that has to happen.

We as a society have done much to destroy our country because we can’t get along with each other. We have seemingly insurmountable drug problems in our country. We have a country teetering on the edge of financial ruin. We have a dysfunctional government that can’t get anything done and can’t give us a decent candidate to vote for. We have a country that once had common sense rules against much of this but in an effort to be everybody’s friend we threw out the rulebook and much of what we brought back as rules, is the reason for the animosity and leniency for those who won’t live by the rules. But even all of that is fixable. Even if it takes a new society to do it and it may well be. Destroying our environment however is a whole new ball game. Once a species is gone it’s gone. Once a glacier melts and the seas rise and not only destroy our environment but the homes of Gods creatures with it, there is no fix. Alaska may be our last chance to get it right.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016



A lot of the ongoing unrest between police and members of the black community is the end result of poverty problems facing our black communities. These are people that are frustrated with their place, in a society that seems to favor others over them. Although the problems are being portrayed as unfairness between the police and blacks, I am sure there would be far less problems, if the social standing of blacks was higher. This is something however that cannot happen, if you continue to not pursue an education. Not being educated breeds poverty. Poverty breeds a propensity to find other ways to make money, often in illegal ways. Hence, interaction with law enforcement. This is true no matter your ethnicity.

The preamble to the constitution states, “All men are born equal.” Black or white, we are born equal. From the day of your birth, when you were an equal, to the day of your death, what you do with your God given life is what defines you in society. Millions of black people have been successful in this country and they are overwhelmingly educated-- or born super talented such as singers and athletes. I do not believe for one minute that black people are inherently bad or not smart.

Education in turn becomes important to kids when parents make it an issue with them and work hard to encourage and foster an “education first attitude” in their lives. Our society has done a good job of providing the resources for all people to get a good education. The bolts and nuts are there, you only need to put them together. No one can be educated if they don’t want to participate in education and the results most often, will be a life filled with doing whatever you have to do to make a buck. Legal or not and it’s a hard way to make a living.

I grew up in poverty but I didn’t have to deal with racial biases on top of the poverty. For the black population I acknowledge this is a real and definite problem. But as a young boy in high school, if there was one thing I never wanted to be, it was poor again. I knew the only way around that was to get an education. Work hard and not hate those who had more then me. There are people all over this nation holding discussions on how to resolve the problems we have. They don’t seem to think that education is one of the answers or if they do, they’re not talking about it seriously. Instead they are talking about holding hands and love and caring. Yes we need some of that too but you can’t legislate it. It has to come from the hearts and minds of each of us and that’s a personal decision. You can’t legislate morality. Religion fosters morality but our government, that was formed, with religious values in mind, has done its best to sever that partnership, at a time when they need it the most.

We are a nation of immigrants’. Our differences have always existed when it comes to the color of our skins but most of the ethnicities have found their place in society by working hard and getting educated. It worked for them and it will work for all of the black community. As I stated there have been millions of successful black people who took the right path, so I know it will work for all people of that community.

Monday, July 18, 2016


Kurt Vonnegut, the American Author once said and I quote, “I urge you to please notice when you are happy and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.” For most of us this is true but conflicting, because we feel in order to be happy we must have something to be happy about. And that something comes in so many different degrees for so many people.

I look at my dog and I think what a simple life you live and yet so often you are happy. I say,” lets go for a walk and you’re happy” or “how about a treat and you’re happy.” I go away for a while and you welcome me back and you’re happy and it doesn’t even have to be me. When anyone comes to our house you’re happy. You give everyone the benefit of the doubt and you’re going to be happy with him or her until they prove you wrong. Maybe happiness comes to you because you don’t micromanage your life and you just take things as they happen. Maybe its because you don’t care if you’re the leader of the pack or bringing up the rear, you’re happy to follow and almost to a fault. I know, I know, were not dogs but is there a lesson to be learned here? That being, don’t take life so seriously.

If my kids or close friends saw this they would say what a hypocrite. You’re not always happy. My answer is, “You’re right-- but I want to be.” Now there are things that make us sad that we have little control over. The death of a loved one for instance or the loss of your job or your health. But there are other things-- and I might say they are the majority of the things we run into-- that we can manage better by either avoiding them or just saying to ourselves, “Lets weather this storm and not let it rule us.” One of the things that old age does bring out, is the “been there and done that,” syndrome. For instance I have wronged people in my life and that is especially egregious, because the end result was, I made two people unhappy.

Life’s problems seem to be more manageable if we break them into more manageable pieces. I have learned to do this and believe me it helps. It also helps to not be afraid to ask for help. Not all of us are as inept as others at solving life’s problems and yes like it or not, we are our, brothers keepers. Life is this great journey we take and in all of the years I have lived in Crosslake, I have had the privilege of meeting so many wonderful people. Not only the privilege of meeting them but also worshiping with them, socializing and sharing some parts of our lives together. So much happiness comes from this interaction with others.

There comes a time for all of us when this journey ends and although it may mean the end of our physical life, it isn’t the end of our influence. It’s at this time when people really know if you lived your life in a meaningful way. Writers write stories and poems that live on after they are gone. Painters leave wonderful examples of how they saw this beautiful world and musicians leave their music. But the most wonderful and meaningful thing we can all leave, is a good and lasting impression and an example that others want to emulate. Let’s all live our lives in a manner that leaves a little bit of us to live on.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016



In the top of my storage garage is an attic space. There are stairs going up there and for many years my wife used it to tuck away all of those things she just couldn’t part with but actually had no use for any more. As I have gotten older, it has been my quest to get rid of stuff I no longer use. So the other day I went up there and started sorting through things. A long and tedious process because there are things up there nobody wants or needs, but on the other hand there are some things up there that might still be useful to someone. Then there are things up there I do need and I didn’t even know I had. There are things too that make you sit down and smile and things that bring tears to your eyes, remembering another time and another place.

I know from experience my kids, who are now in their middle age, don’t want or need any of it. They have more junk of their own then they know what to do with. So to start with I am making three piles. Stuff to continue keeping because I can’t part with it and it would be a sacrilege to throw it away. Stuff for the trip to the landfill and things that the Goodwill store can use. I thought about a garage sale but it’s just too much work. They say one mans junk is another mans treasure and years ago people were much more willing to use somebody else’s castaways until you could afford something better. But speaking for my own grandchildren, who in some cases are just starting out keeping house, not so much anymore.

As a kid growing up in a poor family, I had a rich aunt who would send her sons used clothing down to our house. He lived in another town so I never minded. Her son and I were the same age but he was bigger then me. So mom would cut things down and make them fit for me and my sibling brother or I would wait a couple of years until I grew into them but I was always happy to get them. Shoes were a problem because my feet stayed small and some times I would stuff the toes with paper just to fill them out. I did put my foot down—no pun intended--- and refuse to wear some of them because I suspected I looked like Emmet Kelly, the Ringling Brothers clown. There is pride and there is foolish pride and I had a little of both.

My father had an old two-wheel trailer he kept in back of the house and when things wore out, or broke, he would just throw them in the trailer. When it got full we would go out to the town dump which was always a treat because we would bring dads 22 rifle along and shoot rats. I can see some of you squirming in your seats right now with a sick look on your faces but you had to be there. The biggest problem was trying to keep dad from filling the trailer back up with somebody else’s junk. One other thing that today’s kids would have a rough time with, was mealtime at our house. There were always lots of veggies because mom grew her own and when it came to meat our mom invented the petite cut. Leftovers just got recycled into the next meal and I remember asking mom. What is this?  She would just smile and say “Oh a little of this and a little of that.” Dad would scowl at you and say, “Eat it and shut up.” Sometimes he would give you the old story about kids in India starving. I always wanted to say, “Send this over to India. I hate the thought of anyone starving.” My better judgment said, “Eat it and shut up.”

Monday, July 11, 2016



I ask myself this question every year at this time and every year it changes because every year our country changes. I go back a long ways in this countries history. Back to before the start of W.W. II in fact. Back far enough to remember the pride that was instilled in this country, at the end of that terrible war. Not just pride in our military but pride in our citizens too, for the way they banded together and went without, so we could win. It wasn’t just a military victory it was a whole country victory. You see back then people really understood what fighting for our freedoms, was all about and they were proud that they had won. It was indeed a team effort.

I remember watching the Super Bowl many years ago and seeing and listening to Whitney Houston singing the Star Spangled banner. You had to be there and see the way the song was choreographed, the planes flying overhead with red, white and blue contrails trailing behind them. The flag presented by the armed forces moving with the breeze as if it was alive. But it was how beautiful Whitney sung that anthem that really brought it to me and made me understand what this is all about. I remember how I unashamedly cried and my friend asked me “What’s wrong Mike, why are you so sad?”
“Nothing” I said, “just tears of pride.”
“Pride?” she said.
 “Yes pride” I said, “and if I have to explain that to you, then that is, what is, so sad.”

It’s been the loss of that pride for our country that worries me so. It’s the fact that our pride has indeed turned to prejudice. Prejudice against our fellow Americans and our leaders. Prejudice against foreigners and other countries. In the book of Proverbs 16-18 in the Holy Bible it says “Pride goeth before destruction and a haughty sprit before the fall.” The ill-conceived prejudices we seem to have so many times are based more on arrogance then pride. Yes, they are a haughty spirit.

Today many things have watered down that pride. Politician’s wars that left our troops, with doubts about why they were fighting. A country tired of war and conflict. A country mired in debt from overseas spending while our own people suffer. I don’t like Donald Trump but I do like his slogan. “Make America Great Again.” Donald can’t do it. No one person can-- but together we can. We just need to regain that attitude that prevailed back in the early 1940’s. A time when we took insurmountable odds and turned them into victory.

So what does the 4th mean to me? It means we had it once and we can have it again. Maybe we’ve taken a step backwards lately but we need to get it back. No one can live on his or her laurels forever. We need our country to be whole again and respected. The world needs our country to be a leader again. It’s a scary time indeed but 1941 was an even scarier time and we proved equal to the task. The men and women from that great conflict are fast disappearing. What we can’t let disappear is the pride they brought this country.-------God Bless America on this 4th of July.
Submitted by Mike Holst 14042 Big Pine Trail Crosslake MN. 56442 218 692 2937