Nature – Page 2 – Thoughts Towards a Better World

#926 – Dick Bernard: The Sea Wing Disaster of July 13, 1890

August 18, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, History, Minnesota, Nature /by dickbernard

For a number of months, occasional coffee-time conversation with friends David Thofern and Frederick Johnson usually got around to talk about progress on Mr. Johnson’s latest book, “The Sea Wing Disaster. Tragedy on Lake Pepin” (available through Goodhue County Historical Society here with event schedule about the book here). When the book came out, I bought a couple of copies (well worth the cost), and when I learned that the author would be talking about the volume at the Le Duc House in Hastings MN, I put it on the calendar, and last night my spouse and I went for a most fascinating hour presentation.
(click on photos to enlarge; to further enlarge poster beside Johnson, put cursor over the poster and click again.)

Frederick Johnson speaks on the Sea Wing disaster at Le Duc House, Hastings MN, Aug. 17, 2014

Frederick, David, myself, and others of we “regulars” are into bantering, about this and that, and this project was no different.
But the Sea Wing Disaster was no laughing matter. It happened July 13, 1890, in Lake Pepin, the shallow and large wide spot in the Mississippi River below Red Wing MN.
In the early evening of that day, the overloaded small steamer capsized in very strong winds, and 98 of the 215 passengers died. Most were from Red Wing.
It was and remains one of the largest domestic maritime disasters in U.S. History, and one of the very few in which weather was the major causative factor. (Many of the Sea Wing passengers were aboard a barge, lashed to the Sea Wing. All but one of the passengers on the barge survived. The Sea Wing, only 14′ wide and about 100 feet long, was overloaded and no match for the wind induced massive waves. The passengers had hardly a chance.)

The Sea Wing and Barge in tow before the catastrophe…

…and after. Photos courtesy of Goodhue Co. Hist. Soc.

In these days of AccuWeather and instantaneous forecasting it is perhaps hard to imagine being surprised by bad weather. People back then, and until very recently, relied on the usual visual signs of bad weather, and they knew what bad weather meant, in general. But this storm was different. Not long before the Sea Wing was struck down, a huge tornado from the same system had hit the Lake Gervais area just north of St. Paul. But this was 1890, and there was no easy way to spread the word about what was lurking not far away. The boat, the captain (who survived) and the passengers had hardly a chance.
Johnson first wrote about the Sea Wing in 1986. At the time he started planning to do an article, but there was so much material that he expanded his work into a book. Fast forward to 2014, and major additions provided by newly discovered material, including from the descendants of the casualties and survivors, gave rise to a much expanded new work. Indeed, even at the August 17 program, members of the audience showed photos of their ancestors who were with that boat the ill-fated day.
In this new edition, Mr. Johnson painstakingly researched both those who died and who survived. Judging from the audience on Sunday night, the new volume will bring forward still more new information retained in family collections for near 125 years.
Take in the presentation if you can (schedule above), and/or buy the book. It is a very interesting look at history.

#883 – Dick Bernard: Fishing Opener/Mother's Day (or is it the other way around?)

May 11, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Education, Minnesota, Nature, Peace & Justice, Quietings /by dickbernard

Mom’s Day weekend at Heritage House, Woodbury MN, May 10, 2013

Happy Mothers Day, all you Moms out there, whatever your role or gender. You know who you are.
But….
Friday night the local CBS affiliate had its co-anchor and weatherman up in Nisswa MN for the soon-to-begin Fishing Opener in Minnesota.
In the early segment, Governor Dayton was showing, with his hands, the length of his catch last year. Then, he predicted, on camera, the length of this year catch: longer, of course. No one asked for proof. Such is the case for “fish stories”. For a Governor to miss the Opener would be political death, whispered and shouted and topics of billboards and TV ads: “HE DIDN’T GO FISHING ON THE OPENER!”
I dramatize, but only a little. Those guys in the driveway I saw earlier in the week, earnestly talking about The Boat in the driveway, can explain. The Opener is serious business…for those who like to fish. Hopefully there were no stowaways on that boat, critters like zebra mussels about to be introduced in a new lake “up north”.
(click on all photos to enlarge them)

Postcard from 1908 sent to Ferd and Rosa Busch, Berlin North Dakota

Mothers Day and Fishing Opener have been twins for many years in Minnesota. It is as it is. Doubtless there are negotiations at many homes. The guys getting the boat prepared had other preparations too!
So, also on Friday, we went to our favorite Mother’s Day Flower Market, the Ramsey County Correctional Facility, which annually produces and sells flowers around Mothers Day weekend (the last weekend is next weekend.) As word gets around, this is an ever busier place, and with good reason. Inmates learn horticulture, and as I heard one inmate, a worker, say to a customer about the product he was working with: “they’re beautiful”. One-fourth of the proceeds go to help with program at the facility.
Yes, of course, inmates are also some mother’s son, or daughter…. It’s easy to forget that; as it is easy to forget that there are soft spots even in the seeming hardest of hearts.
There is something about flowers that soften the hard edge of normal existence, even for ones who’ve made mistakes on life’s road.
(click on any photo to enlarge it)

Checking some plants, May 10, 2014

Product on display May 10, 2014 at the Ramsey County Correctional Facility Flower Sale

Give some thought, today, to the Mom’s, and their kids (including well into adult years), for whom this day is less than pleasant for any number of reasons that you can enumerate.
Life is not always a dance to fine music; it can be messy and very, very complicated.
On a display wall at the flower shop was a display of four letters, from an inmate, from a college, and from two others. They’re pictured here. Most likely, you can read them, enlarged. If not, they speak powerfully to what the facility is all about.

Letters on display, May 10, 2014

Happy Mothers Day, all.

au Printemps at Heritage House May 10, 2014

Fresh Rhubarb at Heritage House (think Mom’s Rhubarb Pie!) May 10, 2014

#873 – Dick Bernard: Easter, a Beautiful, Reflective, Complicated, Controversial Time

April 20, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Family History, Minnesota, Nature, North Dakota, Quietings /by dickbernard

It is expected to be a beautiful Spring day in the Twin Cities today. Perfect Easter weather. Of course, not all Easter Sundays have been perfect. We dodged a lot of snow just a few days ago….
(click to enlarge)

Postcard saved by my grandparents at their North Dakota farm dated April 4, 1915.

(explanation at end of post)

Best I know, the Catholic Church does more with Easter week than most any other Christian denomination. My sister, Mary, near the end of a U.S. Peace Corps assignment down in the South Seas in the island country of Vanuatu, described Easter there yesterday, in an Easter e-mail from New Zealand. You can find her description here, at the very end of this now very long post, dated April 19, 2014.
Good Friday I volunteered to usher at the at noon service at my church, Basilica of St. Mary, Minneapolis. We ran out of leaflets – they had printed 450. There were perhaps 500 in attendance, more than anticipated.
The Stations of the Cross are always a reflective time. The phrase that stuck most with me on Friday was this, from the Second Station, Judas’ betrayal of Jesus:
“They shared one another’s life for some three years.
They talked together, ate together, traveled together.
That night, he came to Jesus and kissed him one last time…
no kiss of love,
rather, a kiss of rejection and betrayal.
To feel rejected or to feel betrayed is a painful experience.
To be rejected or betrayed by a friend hurts even more.
Who among us has never felt rejected or betrayed?
Or who among us has never rejected or betrayed someone?
Betrayal is an ugly thing.
Rejection tears at the very fabric of our self-esteem….”
You can read that reflection, and all the rest, here: Basilica of St. Mary 2014 Stations of the Cross Presider Book
As years accumulate, stuff happens…for us all. Hurt, and all the rest, is not only one way. Messes are part of everyone’s life.
After the Stations, I walked across Loring Park to have a cup of coffee with a good friend of mine. She’s Catholic, too. Earlier in the morning she’d had breakfast with a couple of Catholic friends, folks I know, who are disgusted with the Church, one because of the continuing unresolved scandal of sex abuse by some Priests (his was a painful personal experience some 50 years ago); the other because, apparently, there’s nothing in the church for her daughter, who’s becoming Episcopalian.
Earlier that morning I’d written a note to a friend who’s being baptized Catholic Saturday night but had almost dropped out due to the latest scandal news last Fall. We had long conversation at her time of crisis last Fall, and after that and many other conversations with other people, she chose to carry on with her desire to become Catholic.
My general advice to her, as I recall: do as you will; we’re a huge church, and the church is all of the people in it, not just some leader or bad apple.
Before I wrote to her, I’d written to the Priest who’s again in the headlines out here. I had and have great respect for Fr. Kevin – he was my pastor in the 1990s, and Diocese Vicar General as well – the point person on the then-abuse cases. A wonderful man.
Earlier this week he’d spent an entire day in depositions because of alleged mishandling of complaints somewhere back when.
I used to have a job similar to his, representing people in trouble, and answering to a boss, so I understand the dilemmas he must have faced when the scandals erupted years ago.
So it goes.
I have no problem admitting I’m life-long and still active Catholic. “Catholic” is, as already described, a very complex term. As usher, I see all sorts of “Catholics” entering the doors, and I will again at the 9:30 Easter Mass this morning.
It is the people who are the Church, and Catholics are a diverse lot, defying a standard description, from least to most exalted…. The U.S. is a diverse lot, too. Even families, as most of us know from personal experience.
*
A short while ago, on March 27, was when Pope Francis met President Obama in Rome. I was in LaMoure ND on that day, when the new Bishop of Fargo, John Fulda, came by. He was there for a meeting with area Priests, and the afternoon Mass was crowded.
Here’s two photos from March 27:

March 28, 2014 Minneapolis Star Tribune

Bishop John Folda at LaMoure ND Holy rosary Church March 27, 2014

If any two people know about differences of opinion and how they need to be respected, it is Pope Francis and President Obama. They represent immense constituencies where differences of opinion abound. I highly respect them both, and I think their common thread is their efforts to set a higher bar for a more positive tone of dialogue and understanding between and among people.
At their level, disagreement is assumed. Their job is to try to set the tone, and they both work on a positive tone.
Our society, of course, seems to place the emphasis on disagreement, “dissent”. When in doubt, go to war, with each other, or against some other. The fact of the matter is that these two international leaders, one representing people generally, and one representing a religious belief, understand another way of communicating: the importance of dialogue, of relationship.
I suspect the same has to be true of Bishop Folda, a youthful, new Catholic Bishop living in a world as he does where not even all Catholics agree with him, much less the rest of the population.
*
Which leads back to the hand leading this post: I was cleaning up after Stations and found the scrap of paper on the floor.
It was by a little kid, probably, doing some drawing of his or her family, including an apparently recently deceased pet, Buttercup. Somebody wrote in the names.
I like that illustration; no trash can for it! There seem to be seven people and one deceased animal in it, and behind the words are the real lives of these seven people, and all that surround them. Maybe, today, there’s an Easter Egg hunt at their house, or neighborhood. Perhaps candy. Hopefully something with family, a pleasant day (as we know, such days are not always pleasant for everyone.) Tomorrow is the future, and whatever it holds for all of them.
Happy Easter.

Another old Easter card from the ND farm, undated.

POSTNOTE: 9:30 Mass at Basilica was crammed with more people than I’ve ever seen there over the last 18 years of membership. The sanctuary was filled to overflowing by 9 a.m., and the supplementary overflow facility was also filled to standing room only. A far larger than normal crowd is always expected at Christmas and Easter. This crowd was considerably larger than usual.
Lee Piche, Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese, was guest homilist (sermon) and had an excellent message which I interpreted as advice to better care for not only each other but for our earth. I was impressed.
Everyone, of course, has their own story about why they attended today.
To me, the only story is that a lot of people showed up….

#869 – Dick Bernard: The Robin

April 8, 2014/0 Comments/in Minnesota, Nature, North Dakota, Quietings /by dickbernard

Today, I happened across a Robin, busily scouting out a lawn along my walking route. Doubtless there have been other Robins around, though not many.
A robin, though, is a sure sign of spring for me. And this was the first one of 2014.
For some reason, this Robin brought to mind the first Robin I remember seeing. It was certainly in the 1940s, as I vividly remember it on the lawn of what we called the North House in tiny Sykeston ND.
Given the setting, I was probably about seven or eight years old.
There was the Robin on our lawn, busily disturbing an earthworm, pulling it out of its underground shelter.
I got as close as I could, and watched for what seemed like a long time, then, but probably only a few seconds.
But the memory stuck, and todays Robin brought it back, vivid as the day it happened many years ago.
It is odd how certain memories stick with a person. This memory begets others: the salamander invasion in Anoka circa 1977 comes to mind.
But rather than reciting my own, I invite you to remember some of your fond memories: those pleasant happenings that just seem to stick around for moments like I experienced a few hours ago.
Good day to reconnect with the old standard about living today, positively, “The Station”. Ann Landers printed in 1997 and 1999, and I kept it.
Have a great day.

#867 – Dick Bernard: The Tar Sands Pipeline and other matters of the environment

April 4, 2014/2 Comments/in Climate Change, Community, Education, Environment, International Relations, Minnesota, Native American, Nature, Peace & Justice /by dickbernard

A relevant and current addendum to this post is the 2014 Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change accessible here.
Last Sunday after church I stopped by a table staffed by two members of the environmental organization MN350.
This day they were encouraging action against a proposed expansion of the Alberta Clipper Pipeline of Enbridge Energy, a Canadian Corporation. The planned demonstration was Thursday April 3 in St. Paul. The essential information about the contested project is here: Stop Alberta Clipper001.
I was interested in this issue, and Thursday afternoon came, with icy rain preliminary to a predicted 6-10 inches of snow overnight.
After some hemming and hawing, I arrived late at the demo, walked a few blocks in the march and came home.
I was glad I went. There was a good attendance, especially given the weather. My two favorite photos are these.
(click to enlarge photos)

April 3 Tar Sands Pipeline demo St. Paul MN

April 3, 2014

Often I wonder if the whole climate change situation is hopeless. Are the people who walked in this demonstration wasting their time? As friends in the peace and justice movement know, I am no particular fan of protests simply for the sake of protesting.
But every now and then, there is encouragement, and Thursday was such a day, coming from an unusual direction. I picked up a little hope that the quiet majority is generally getting it – that there is a problem, despite the scoffers at ” the very words Global Warming”.
Before driving into St. Paul I had stopped at the Post Office to mail some items, and while I was affixing stamps a guy in my age range started to chat.
Of course, the threatening weather came up.
He said, “guess I’ll have to go and talk to God about it”. I answered, “I’ll check what happens and see what God had to say about your talk”.
We both chuckled.
We compared notes a bit, in the way that strangers do, dancing into uncharted waters. The deadly mudslide in Washington came up; the drought in California; less predictable and more severe weather generally….
The guy said, “maybe Al Gore knew something back then. Even my wife is starting to think so.”
The demonstrators probably won’t stop the pipeline but maybe they’ll encourage one or two more conversations like the one this fellow and I were having.
Games like this – making change – are played by the inch, not the mile. Dramatic change happens so slowly as to not even be noticed.
I’m thankful those two women caught my eye on Sunday, and that I picked up their literature.
Enroute home I got to thinking about two years ago at almost exactly this date in my town: the temperature was in the low 70s, and the trees were budding….
There was a frost that messed up the budding a few days later, but the difference between two years ago and now was indeed dramatic.

April 2, 2012, Woodbury (suburban St. Paul) MN

Native Americans from Red Lake MN used their banner as a windshield in downtown St. Paul April 3, 2014

#850 – Ed Ehlinger: It’s the Little Things that Count

February 27, 2014/0 Comments/in Community, Education, Family History, Minnesota, Native American, Nature, Quietings /by dickbernard

Every now and then a true gold nugget appears in my in-box, and this evening was one such nugget, from Dr. Ed Ehlinger, Commissioner, Minnesota Department of Health. His commentary is presented here with his permission. Wonderful Sharer of Story Anne Dunn, to whom he refers in his writing, is a long-time good friend of mine, and she has posted on several occasions at this blog. You can access her posts here.
Dr. Ehlinger, shared Feb. 23, 2014:
Greetings,
“I will tell you something about stories . . . They aren’t just entertainment. Don’t be fooled. They are all we have, you see, all we have to fight off illness and death.”
Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony
I was worrying about all of the big things that were facing me in the upcoming day when I left home on a recent sub-zero, cloudy, and dreary February morning. It was one of those days that prods one to question the reasons for living in Minnesota. To make matters worse, I was now stuck in a traffic jam on Interstate 94 where it crosses Hiawatha Avenue. Most of the gray exhaust rising from each of the cars idling on this highway turned parking lot was creating an environment that was not quite pea soup but more like dirty dishwater left in the sink overnight. The remainder of the exhaust was freezing on the pavement creating a black ice that made whatever movement there was hazardous and stressful.
The longer I was trapped in this traffic jam the more irritable I became. It was dawning on me that I was going to be spending a large chunk of time in my car in one of the gloomiest parts of town on one of the gloomiest days of the year. The irony of the presence of such ugliness as I sat stranded over a street named after a famous American Indian, whose name evokes images of nature’s beauty, was not lost on me and made my frustration even more intense.
That thought, however, momentarily took my mind away from I94 and Hiawatha Avenue and transported it to a storytelling session that I had attended over twenty years ago. Despite the fact that it had occurred so long ago, I could vividly recall the setting – a small cottage nestled in a small clump of trees in the middle of a preserved patch of prairie just south of the Twin Cities. The cottage was decorated with hand-crafted furniture, fabrics, and art. It was a magical place that gently coaxed stories out of people. It was the antithesis of I94 on this gloomy morning.
One of the storytellers made a particularly vivid impression on me. Her name was Anne Dunn, an Ojibwe woman from Cass Lake, MN. She had made the trip to the Twin Cities solely for the storytelling session. She knew it didn’t make any sense for her to come all that way just to tell a story or two but she had a feeling that she had to be there – so she was.
Her story was about a young man who had gone on a Vision Quest. Just before he departed, an elder approached him and advised him that over the next three days he should pay attention to the little things around him because they might hold something special. The young man said that he would and then departed with hopes of having a great vision that would give him some purpose and direction in his life.
When the young man reached the top of the hill that he had chosen for his quest, he set up his camp and began the fasting and prayer that he hoped would lead to his vision.
For three days he waited. No dreams came while he slept. He looked for signs from eagles, wolves, bears, or deer but nothing appeared. He gazed at the sky looking for clouds or thunder and lightning but nothing was visible to him. He looked at the trees and the rocks and the hills but he saw nothing but the landscape. He prayed, and even begged, for a sign but nothing came that he could recognize. Finally, exhausted and in despair he gave up his quest and headed back to his people.
Upon entering the village the young man was met by the elder who had talked with him before he left. The elder asked about the Vision Quest. The young man dejectedly replied that it was a failure; nothing had happened. He felt depressed and cheated.
The elder asked him about the bird. The young man replied that there were no birds.
The elder asked him again about the bird. The young man again replied but this time with some impatience in his voice that there were no birds. He had looked diligently for three days for signs of eagles, hawks, loons, or even owls but none had appeared.
For the third time the elder asked him about the bird. By this time the young man was beside himself. He screamed that there were no birds, that the place was barren, and that his whole Vision Quest was a waste of time.
The elder quietly asked “what about the bluebird?”
“O, that pesky little thing,” the young man replied. “He kept bothering me. I tried to chase it away but it kept coming back. After a while I just had to ignore it because it was interfering with my Vision Quest.”
As he was talking, the young man suddenly remembered the words of the elder before he had left on the Vision Quest -”pay attention to the little things.” With great despair he realized that he had disregarded this advice. The bluebird was trying to tell him something but he didn’t pay attention because he was looking for something more dramatic and spectacular than the appearance of a lowly little bluebird.
The young man went away and cried with the realization that he had wasted a golden opportunity.
Just then, I was jolted back to the present by a horn sounding behind me. The traffic had begun to move and, for the person behind me, I had been too slow to respond. I slowly pushed down on the accelerator and caught up with the flow of traffic. The cars were now moving but the murkiness and glumness of the surrounding city-scape remained. My mind went back to the advice of the elder in the story – “Pay attention to the little things around you. They may hold something special for you.”
At that moment I looked up through the dirty gray air toward the sun that was slowly rising directly ahead of me. Around the sun a glorious rainbow had appeared and was forming an arch over the road. The rainbow was created by the exhaust and polluted air which moments before I had been cursing.
I began to smile as I noticed that the most vibrant color of the rainbow was blue – a blue that matched the hue of a bluebird’s wing. At that point I knew that I was one of the reasons Anne Dunn came to the Twin Cities. I needed her story even though it took 2 decades to understand that. To paraphrase Leslie Marmon Silko, I needed her story to fight off the frustration and stress that was not leading to health. Her story also assured me that the big things in my day would take care of themselves if I stopped worrying and simply paid attention to the little things all around me.
It turned out to be a great day.
The 2014 legislative session starts this week. That’s a big thing. While we deal with that, let’s be sure to pay attention to the bluebird on our shoulder.

#814 – Dick Bernard: Visiting Frank Lloyd Wright's Windmill

December 20, 2013/0 Comments/in Environment, History, Nature, Quietings /by dickbernard

As usual, I was lolly-gagging a bit behind the rest of the group as we toured Frank Lloyd Wright’s Taliesin East near Spring Green WI on October 16.
Like the rest of my species, picture-takers, whether rank amateur (me) or professional, we tend to fall behind because we see this or that that would make, we feel, a good picture. Like a photo of those folks in the tour group I was now lagging behind who were looking at something as yet unknown to me.
They seemed to be a good picture:
(click to enlarge)

At Taliesin, October 16, 2013

Maybe that’s why they don’t allow indoor photography on tours at Taliesin, which the brochure immodestly (and arguably, accurately) describes as “the greatest single building in America”. Taliesin brochure 2013001
And then I saw what the rest of my group was looking at: the most unusual windmill I had ever seen.

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Windmill

Coming from a rural background, I had plenty of familiarity with farm windmills, but none that looked quite like this one.
Our expert tour guide noted (as I recall) that Wright’s neighbors, way back when he designed this windmill, thought his was a dumb idea. Here this thing was, near the top of a windy hill overlooking the Wisconsin River, enclosed in a wooden structure.
Surely it would blow over.
Apparently the windmill proved everyone wrong: it survived a century. Yes, the original boards rotted away over time, and were replaced, but Wright’s windmill stood on, blended in with its environment. It was much like Wright, perhaps, a bit more classy (and much more quirky and famous or infamous) than its neighbor windmills up and down the roads of rural Wisconsin.
Wright was an obviously greatly gifted guy.
The very word “Taliesin” evokes Wrights philosophy, per the faq’s about Taliesin: “When Wright designed his own home in the valley in 1911, he gave it the Welsh name Taliesin, meaning “shining brow.” Frank Lloyd Wright placed Taliesin on the brow of a hill, leaving the crown, or top, open.”
Wright had his faults (don’t we all?), but I like his apparent philosophy of designs that blended with, rather than dominated, their surrounding environment.
At the gift shop, I almost bought a t-shirt (I didn’t. I already have too many of those, unused), which I thought was pretty neat:

Have a great Christmas and New Year in 2014.

Near the school of architecture at Taliesin, October 16, 2013

#786 – Dick Bernard: Now the really hard work begins: To the Musicians of the Minnesota Orchestra, Maestro Osmo Vanska and the Audience.

October 8, 2013/0 Comments/in Community, History, International Relations, Labor, Minnesota, Nature /by dickbernard

NOTE: Permanent “file cabinet” on the Orchestra issue is here.
Twenty-four hours before I found my seat at the Ted Mann Concert Hall Saturday evening October 5, I was at the closing reception at the Will Steger Exhibit at the Minnesota College of Art and Design.
I was fascinated by the artifacts, and at 7:20 p.m. (so says my camera clock), I lingered at Will Stegers map of his Transarctic Expedition route in 1989-90.
(click to enlarge)

Will Stegers map of the Trans-Antarctic Expedition crossing 1989-90.

What an accomplishment that was.
I had never met Steger in person, and this evening, October 4, I briefly met him, and gave him two dozen snapshots I had taken at his welcome home at the Minnesota State Capitol March 25, 1990. He seemed genuinely interested in the photos, and lingered especially at my photos of two of the sled dogs from the expedition, which he remembered by name. To Steger, they were not dogs, they were team members with great value. Here they are:

Steger expedition sled dog, March 25, 1990

Second Steger Sled Dog, March 25, 1990

One of the multi-national support team for the Trans-Antarctic Expedition, Christine Loys of Paris, was at the reception. She’s here making a movie about the French in Minnesota and has known Will Steger for many years.
After the reception I gave her a ride to her temporary home in south Minneapolis. She was reminiscing about events now 23 years in the past.
The 1989-90 expedition was a very big international accomplishment involving the cooperation of many countries and people…and dogs.
Christine remembered a particular event: the homecoming of the Expedition to Paris. Everyone including the dogs had flown from New Zealand to England, and their next stop enroute home was Paris. The human members were cleared, but the dogs were held in quarantine.
But those dogs were members of the team, and late at night it was Christine’s assignment to call French President Francois Mitterand at home and deal with the matter. Here she was an ordinary French citizen, rousting the President out of bed and, of course, the dogs were cleared instantly.
Without the dogs, there would not been a successful expedition. Nor would there have been a successful expedition without all of the team members, most of whom were not trudging across Antarctica. Nor would there have been an expedition at all, were it not for Will Steger and, likely, Jean-Louis Etienne, a French physician and adventurer who had, quite by coincidence, met up with Will Steger at the North Pole during Stegers Polar Expedition in 1986.
But what does this have to do with the Minnesota Orchestra, Maestro Vanska, and we the audience?
Everything, I maintain.
Saturday night, I would contend, the Minnesota Orchestra made it to the South Pole, sacrificing everything to get there. It was important to Maestro Vanska to be there in support, and he was there, and it was a glorious evening to be celebrated with we audience members, and tens of thousands more listening on Minnesota Public Radio.
But as with the Will Steger team, the Orchestra’s South Pole is only half way home.
When Steger and his teammates reached the South Pole, they still had a long way to go.
Everybody celebrated reaching the goal of reaching the South Pole.
But then the hard work continued, all doing their parts.
So it has to be for everyone of us who are confused, angry and concerned about what has happened to our Orchestra.
There are no greater or lesser team members.
We’re all in this together.
En Avant! (the motto of Minneapolis MN, “Forward”).
NOTES:
Friday 5:30-6:30 p.m. at the Ritz Theater in northeast Minneapolis, Christine Loys will have a program about En Evant!, her upcoming film about the French presence in Minnesota. The public is welcome. Will Steger will be one of the speakers. Here is the flier for the event: En Avant_Invite at the Ritz6. You can read/see more about Ms Loys project here, scroll to #4.
Will Steger’s website is here.

#768: Dick Bernard: Heritage. An Enchanting Evening at La Farm

September 1, 2013/0 Comments/in Community, Minnesota, Nature, Quietings /by dickbernard

Sunset August 31 was 8:02 p.m. CDT in rural Ashby MN. At that time I went outdoors to try to catch the moment in a snapshot:
(click to enlarge any photo)

Sunset at La Farm, August 31, 2013

(A small album of additional photos is on Facebook, here.)
Behind me, indoors in the small farm house, now a home and retreat place for family members, Patty Kakac, Anne Dunn and friends were presenting an enchanting “Grandmother Voices” concert. The “house” audience was only 18 of us, and it had taken us 7 hours, to and from, to get to the show, but it was an awesome and inspiring evening. Patti sang, and Anne shared fascinating stories. Part of me wished that the whole world could experience what we were experiencing; the other part of me, selfishly, reveled in the special time for just the few of us.
Both women perform gently, from the heart, taking their listeners into the subject of their song and story. They are serious and they are humorous, and their new show is a blend of two styles and different traditions. Except for my short trip outdoors to catch the sunset, I was enthralled, and I think the same could be said for those of us in the farm house living room.

(You can hear Patti sing in this YouTube segment. On occasion, Anne Dunn has written for this blog. Links for Apr 12, 2009, May 3, 2009, Dec 13, 2012, Jul 18, 2013 are here. In 2000, she was the person behind Whispering Tree, a CD for school children which may still be available in some libraries.)
We all had an additional and unanticipated special treat on Saturday night.
Enroute to La Farm, a short distance west of Alexandria on I-94, we were slowed by a powerful thunderstorm with high winds and traffic-stopping rain. Since our destination was to the west, we called to inquire about the weather there. Indeed, the powerful thunderstorm had passed their way, earlier.
On the country road to the farm a downed tree nearly blocked our path, and in the yard, we were told that the power was out.
So, we watched the concert, from 7-9 p.m. in the dimming light of the sunset streaming through the window behind the performers. And then dusk, and then dark. Out came the candles, and the last of the concert was in the dark.
For me, and I think for the others too, the separation from electricity only enhanced the evening.
La Farm house reminded me of my Grandparents pioneer house in North Dakota: originally a very small rectangular house with downstairs and upstairs, with later add-ons like kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms…. Sharon Henneman, a grandchild of the original La Farm inhabitants, shared this story about the house and home: La Farm – a story remembered
Grandpa was a farmhouse fiddler, good enough to have a small band for neighborhood dances “back in the day”. From about 1927, the whole family gathered around the piano in the living room to sing songs.
Back then, there was no electricity, no interventions by man, other than lamps. There was no thought of power outages. The weather was as it was.
It was nice to experience, in a sense, the good old days Saturday night in the living room at La Farm.
I wish I could transmit last night to all to you. I can’t.
Maybe you have your own memories of similar days of old.
(Enroute home, about 11:00, a message came to us and others: the power is back on. Somehow, it was anti-climactic. That power outage was really an addition to an already rich evening.)
NOTE: Patty Kakac can be reached at pattykakacATgmailDOTcom. Her phone 320-834-4445. (See Patty’s comment after the photos) I have her 1998 CD, Patchwork, which is wonderful. I think it is still available through her. It brings the old days to life, as she and Anne Dunn did again Saturday night.

Patty Kakac and Anne Dunn, a half hour before sunset.

Anne Dunn tells one of her stories. Night has about fallen.

La Farm at Sunset, the original two story pioneer home essentially surrounded by later additions. The “concert hall” was behind the glass doors at left.

As dusk approaches, the concert continues, soon in the dark!

from Patty Kakac, Sep 3, 2013: I am enjoying reading about the concert from out there in the audience. Your writings about going back to childhood days reminds me of the song I wrote for a play called “Playing with Memories”. We started writing the play by gathering elder people together to tell us of their memories. So many recited the very same thing you have about the music…someone with a fiddle, someone on a piano. So I wrote the song using that theme. My method of writing these sorts of songs is to simply go through the words the people say and fit them together, somewhat like putting a puzzle together. Here are the words to the song…thought you might enjoy them. I had thought about singing the song that night but there wasn’t time or place where it fit in.
Thank you for such a beautiful review.
(It’s a waltz)
PLAYING WITH MEMORIES – lyrics and music by Patty Kakac
Playing with Memories so I can recall
People and places I love most of all
And when shadows of life darken my day
Playing with Memories chase the dark clouds away
Mama cooking in the kitchen would sing
Sister in the parlor made the old piano ring
Soft, lacey curtains blowing in the breeze
These are a few of my memories
Papa would bring out the fiddle and bow
Neighbors would come as soon as they’d know
We’d push chairs and table against the wall
Turn the old farm house into a dance hall
I’ve loved you all the days since we first met
How you danced in my arms I’ll ne’er forget
I’ll cherish your love as long as I breathe
Forever I’ll hold you in my memories
Patty was responding to this comment to her, Anne Dunn and the hosts at La Farm by myself:
Saturday night keeps rattling around in my brain, and I need to let the thoughts out!
To be honest, if [our guest, Christine] had not been interested in going out the La Farm, we probably wouldn’t have gone. We’d heard Patty and Anne doing a preliminary version of their show the previous year at my sister Flo’s, and the six hour round-trip was not especially appealing.
But, we went, and the power went out, and it was one of the most singularly powerful evenings I’ve personally experienced.
And the storm and the power outage enhanced the experience.
Saturday night we basically experienced the old days going way back before things like electricity and modern conveniences like indoor toilets.
Back then, what came to La Farm, came, of course, just like Saturday, a storm came through. It could have been welcome, or it could have brought hail, or a tornado. It simply happened.
And there the people were, isolated, coping as best they could.
But then there was the concert.
I have done a great deal of family history, and as I said in the blog, my roots, particularly my mother’s side, was full of farm music.
So, here we sat in a dark room, lit by a couple of candles (secretly, I wished the LED lights would be turned off!), in a community of music.
Back in the olden days, I know from family and other stories, these country gatherings were primary recreational and social events.
There were dances in hay mows (the upstairs of barns); community halls, saloons, houses…wherever people could gather and somebody had a fiddle, or a piano, people passed the short time between work and dark (except in the summer) doing what was done Saturday night.
If the original part of that house could tell tales, it would probably remember such goings on from time to time. They’d be small and informal, but unless the home owners were anti-social, they’d be happening. And to survive out there, you had to have an element of being social – what if the barn burned down, or such.
Today we can (it seems) manage everything. Cell phones get us out of the house when the phones don’t work; we can watch perfect events in perfect color and high definition, with perfect sound systems without ever having to interact with another soul.
Saturday night, you were, in my opinion, in pioneer days, not only in Minnesota, but most everywhere else in the developing United States and Canada.
It was really a great privilege to be there.
I could go on and on.
Maybe some of those on the copy list could add more….
Thanks to everyone who made the evening possible.

#761 – Dick Bernard: A Full Moon, Pretty Flowers…and owning a mistake

August 19, 2013/2 Comments/in Community, Labor, Minnesota, Nature /by dickbernard

UPDATE, August 20, 2013 9:45 p.m.
A short while ago we drove east from Minneapolis, driving into the Full Moon rising. The sky was clear and the view was spectacular. Pity that I only had my small camera, with which I took this snapshot. The moon was, for me at least, a positive harbinger of the future for the Minnesota Orchestra.
(click to enlarge)

Full Moon, August 20, 2013, at Woodbury MN

We had just attended, along with several hundred others, a Community Forum on the Minnesota Orchestra Lock-Out. The extraordinarily well run event was conducted by an apparent ad hoc organization, Orchestrate Excellence, and co-featured a keynote speech by Dr. Alan Fletcher, CEO and President of the Aspen Music Festival and School, and a large number of moderated small groups, largely of strangers together, dealing with two questions:
1. Does Minnesota want a world-class orchestra, and why?
2. What will you, as a community member, do to support a world-class orchestra, and how?
Dr. Fletcher’s talk is available at The UpTake and is well worth your time.
The handout we all received is here: OrchExcel 082013001
We thought our time to be very well spent. Ours was a diverse group, 13 of us, with diverse opinions, but we were talking.
If you have even a little interest in the Minnesota Orchestra Lock-Out do take time to print out the handout, and watch the video, and enter into your own conversations within your own circles.
Personally, I think tonights meeting, along with other events recent and pending, mitigate towards a settlement, which must be between the two parties to the bargain. If I’m right, the settlement of the contract will only begin the hard part: to move ahead to heal and rebuild.
It won’t be easy.
Tonights full moon was, I found out, a Blue Moon. I’m not much of a moon person, but I liked its rising as we came home this evening. For some reason it brought a feeling of hope.
Here’s the earlier post….

Bergeson Nursery rural Fertile MN August 8, 2013

This day this blogspace was to be about pretty flowers in a wonderful pastoral setting about 300 miles from our home in the Twin Cities!. Our tour guides on August 8 were Annelee Woodstrom, and her friend, Joyce Schlagel, who suggested we drive from their home in Ada to the Bergeson Nursery in rural Fertile MN.
The afternoon was a huge treat, and I posted 22 snapshots in this Facebook album. If you can’t access them, I’ve sprinkled two photos from the pastoral farmyard within this post.

At Bergeson Nursery August 8, 2013

Flowers can speak for themselves, but they speak as well for those who nurture them.
More compelling to me, right now, is the continuing tragedy of the Minnesota Orchestra Lock-Out, nearing twelve months, with the next two weeks crucial.
I need to start by correcting a mistake I made in my August 16 Post. It is marked by [*] in the third paragraph, and acknowledged in the last two paragraphs. It was a foolish mistake, that I had no reason to make. I apologize.
Of course, mistakes do not begin and end with me.
One of the more memorable dissertations on owning a mistake is one I heard years ago, at a meeting, where a woman quoted her mother: “never apologize”. Nothing more was said about why the Mom said that to her daughter, at the time long an adult, but it stuck.
This morning I reviewed my entire Lock Out file. It is a couple of inches thick, my personal reference point for this disaster. It includes my letters to the Board: Nov. 24, 2012, to every Board member; Jan. 10, 2013, to the Officers; Feb. 18, 2013 to the Executive Committee.
There is one reply which seems genuine, dated Jan. 8, 2013, from Jon R. Campbell and Michael Henson, but it is just too perfect. It reminds me far too much of a letter I received about 1965 from a downtown Minneapolis office. I had been raising a complaint about some small and (in my mind) unjustified bill, and finally got a long letter, typed in the fashion of the day, with the salutation “Dear Richard I. Bernard (or anybody else)”. With that, I paid the bill, satisfied I got somebody’s attention.
The Lock Out of the Orchestra by Orchestra management was a horrendous mistake, and the “never apologize” rule is likely to be applied here by those same managers whenever this issue is over.
But sooner or later there will be a settlement, hopefully not imposed, and my signal to begin supporting the Orchestra once again will be an enthusiastic ratification of the agreement by members of the Orchestra Union.
They are, all of them, heroes to me.
It is time for a beautiful sunrise out of a stormy sky, such as the one I saw this morning enroute to coffee, and hurriedly snapped.

August 19, 2013, Woodbury MN near corner of Radio and Lake.

Previous posts about the Minnesota Orchestra Lock-Out: October 18, 2012; December 7, 2012; June 1, 2013; June 5, 2013; June 21, 2013; July 26, 2013; August 16, 2013