Welcome to my blog. Writing is both my vocation and avocation, and this blog is one way I play with the latter. I’m glad you found your way here, and I hope you’ll find stories and poems that enlighten, encourage and entertain. Make yourself comfortable, enjoy the read, and thanks for visiting!
Barb
News broke yesterday that Lutsen Lodge was destroyed by fire. As an ode to this iconic MN resort, I’m posting an article entitled “Lutsen Resort: A Rich Heritage of North Shore Hospitality” from the December 2011 issue of Tonka Times magazine.
Do you know how many other devastating fires have occurred at this site and the name of the architect who designed the lodge? Answers are provided in the article. Enjoy!
Tonka Times is no longer in print; the publisher had previously given me permission to share articles I authored. Apologies for the sub-optimal quality; this is a scan of hard copy pages that were larger than 8.5 x 11.
Common ground. The words were printed on a T-shirt that caught my eye during a morning walk. You’ve probably seen similar slogans. Choose kindness. Be nice. Be a good human.
Positive, those messages. But as I pondered that shirt, the writer inside tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, “Show, don’t tell.”
Yes, of course. Familiar and sage advice to master the craft.
Tap, tap, tap. Another whisper. “Your craft is about more than written words. With every thought and action, you are writing the unique story of your life.”
The words on the T-shirts are simply reminders. More important, the deeper inquiry:
Am I living my poem?
Am I living my poem?
Dear Maple,
I witnessed your small limb strain nearly to the brink while kids swung hard from it this summer. You held up under pressure, and something tells me you considered it an honor to connect and support their joy. Now, I witness the stress of your sacrifice.
My sweet friend, I marvel at the humble yet frank way you teach us the art of letting go. You demonstrate how to release first that which causes the most stress and depletion. You show us that the process is brilliant, and that it can be breathtakingly beautiful.
Thank you for reaching out to share your wisdom.
Love,
Barb
Our 2016 Danson camping weekend coincided with the 11th anniversary of Grandma’s death. How fitting to gather at Mary’s Landing, seeing she inspired this annual get together. We’ve obviously aged since last year – Edna turned 100 and my youngest first cousin turned 30 – and we’ve had some tragedies. My first cousin Becky passed away in March at the age of 36, and several others have dealt with significant health issues, including cancer. As if we needed to be reminded, we had many good reasons to gather and be grateful for family.
We had another enjoyable family camping weekend this fall. As usual, the bonfires were cozy and the food was delicious. And, of course, it’s always great to catch up with family. Activities included a hay wagon ride, a nature scavenger hunt and a rousing Ranger relay race that included super soakers and water balloons, both of which were not always aimed at the intended inanimate targets. A highlight of the weekend was the crowning of Aunt Edna as Queen for a Day.
Edna is my 99-year-old great aunt, my grandma Mary’s older sister. She has a strong “gotta keep moving” attitude, and she is flexible enough to bend over and touch the floor flat-handed, something I can only dream of doing. Edna basically raised Grandma Danson (their mother died at a young age), and the crowning was a light-hearted way to thank her for what she did.
The first time I saw the Polaris Slingshot on the local news in the fall of 2014, I was smitten with its crazy Batmobile looks and the sheer joy its test riders were experiencing. During the spring of 2015, I took one out for a test drive. When I started writing poetry about it (see below), I had a feeling one would be sitting in my garage sooner rather than later.
After reviewing one of the owner’s forums (www.slingshotforums.com), I was nervous about all the reported maintenance issues. Common sense lost out, and my wild side went for it. I picked up my base model over Memorial weekend 2015.
When you trade vehicles every two to four years, you’re bound to get a dud. I’ve definitely liked some cars better than others, but my biggest disappointment occurred this year with vehicle #13 (triskaidekaphobia, anyone?). It was a brand new 2015 Honda CR-V, highly touted as the “Motor Trend SUV of the year.” So much for the accolades; I traded it before it was halfway to its first oil change. My reputation as a frequent trader has hit a whole new level.
Vivien Thomas was described as “the most untalked-about, unappreciated, unknown giant in the African American community” by one of his colleagues, Dr. Levi Watkins, an African American surgeon who performed the first human implant of an automatic defibrillator. Though he never attended medical school, Thomas still managed to make an enormous contribution to surgical sciences. Banished to the back halls of the hospital during the height of segregation, his accomplishments were overshadowed by the great Drs. Blalock and Taussig. But make no mistake – this unsung hero was also one of the greats in medicine.
For the past two years my mission has been to aim for better health and invest in things that will help me overcome chronic muscle tension and its associated tendonitis, bursitis, and general aches and pain-itis. My latest investment was a VARIDESK Pro Plus ($350 plus $50 shipping). I sit way too much, both at the computer and in my rocker recliner, and I’m confident this product will help me get my butt out of the chair.
At work, about 30 of my co-workers use these stand-up desk units, and so far all but one like them. This is a nice system – it comes fully assembled, is sturdy and is super easy to transition between sitting and standing. One tip to make that transition seamless is to use a wireless keyboard and mouse. Another essential component is to use a good anti-fatigue mat. At work I use the one from VARIDESK, and at home I use the Imprint CumulusPRO
We recently had another enjoyable Danson camping weekend at Mary’s Landing. Big thanks to Russ and Sue for their generosity in hosting this annual get together. The weekend was filled with family, friends, food and fun.
In addition to the usual bonfire on Friday and Saturday night, Russ took us out for moonlight hayrides. The fuse blew when he started the tractor on Friday, so that ride was entirely lit by the nearly-full Harvest Moon. On Saturday he used a different tractor, and we needed the lights when we headed into the sugar bush. Shafts of moonlight lit up a few spots of the forest floor, but in most places it was pitch black. We won’t mention any names, but Annie “The Jumper” got pretty spooked; Dale must have been holding her tight, because she was still on the wagon when we got back to the bonfire. Continue reading
Mornings are a glorious time in the Elm Creek Park Reserve. I started my walk the other day with a brief visit to one of the coolest trees I’ve ever met. What first caught my eye were the two huge burls that give it a feminine appearance (you know what I mean). In my attempt to get more attuned with nature, I walked off the paved trail to touch the tree and get better acquainted.
Apparently I had first viewed the back of the tree. What a sight to behold when I walked around to the front – this tree has a face! And it’s a wise old face at that (see photo below). The nose and eyes remind me of an elephant, or maybe a wizard. From this angle, the burls look more like hair. I haven’t learned how to talk to trees yet (a lot of people do – Google it and you’ll find a video and even a Wiki-How with photos), but I did hear this tree say, “I’ve lived through a lot of hard times, my friend.”
In December my uncle Robin Baker received a special honor from the Itasca County Trails Task Force (ICTTF) and the Deer River City Council. They approved a motion to add his name to all of the city’s ski, horseback, ATV and snowmobile trails, which will now be known as the “Robin Baker Blueberry Hills Trails Systems.”
Danson Camping Weekend at Mary’s Landing
My grandma, Mary Danson, was a courageous woman to raise a flock of eleven children. And what a fine flock she raised. Before Grandma passed away on September 10, 2005, she said she hoped her large family would keep getting together. To honor her wish, my uncle Russ and his wife, Sue, have hosted an annual family camping weekend at “Mary’s Landing” on their farm in Rush City.
My friend Jo and I have a lovely tradition each summer: we journey to the southeast corner of the metro to attend Eagan Community Theater, presented at Eagan High School. And since Andiamo’s restaurant opened a couple years ago, we enjoy a wonderful Italian pre-show dinner a few miles from the school.
Nearly every year – and we’ve been doing this for ten years now – we are blown away by the quality of the plays. Amateur actors and a large group of volunteers professionally handle costumes, set design, production, lighting, orchestra, box office and all the other supporting roles. It’s always fun to see the range of ages on stage, from grandparents to single-digit youngsters, all of whom pour their heart into every stage move and note.
I’m intrigued by people who have special insight into animal behavior: horse whisperer Buck Brannaman, livestock consultant Temple Grandin, cat listener Jackson Galaxy and dog whisperer Cesar Millan. A few weeks ago I discovered Minneapolis’ own dog whisperer on a walking path around Lake Harriet.
It was a sight to behold as this man approached with his entourage; he was surrounded by a dozen dogs of various breeds, sizes and colors. What was even more impressive was how well the dogs behaved when they stopped for a poop pick-up. The man set down two handfuls of leashes, turned his back on the pack, and walked about twenty feet to a trash can. He never looked back, never showed a single sign of anxiety that the dogs would make a break for it. The only dog that wasn’t sitting perfectly still was rolling on its back in what looked like a state of nirvana. Continue reading
With the cool, wet spring we’ve had, it’s hard to believe June is already half over. In another week or two the strawberries will ripen, and I can’t wait to pick a flat or two at Bauer Berry Farm in Champlin.
As with most locally grown food, you could probably find cheaper prices at Costco or other big box stores. But something feels right about paying a little more money and spending a little more time to pick my strawberries straight from the field. They are definitely better quality than the jumbo, flavorless berries that look better than they taste. That’s just one of many reasons, though.
Cemeteries are filled with interesting stories. Some of them are triumphant, many are tragic. My sister and I stumbled upon the latter the other day when we wandered through St. Fridolin Cemetery. We were almost to the end of our meander when we spotted the grave of Brooke Elizabeth Thompson. She was born in 1980 and died at age 22. A plastic container stood next to her grave. It had a notebook inside, tucked within a resealable plastic bag. The note on the container invited visitors to leave a message. “Open it up,” I said to Kris. “Let’s see what’s inside.” Continue reading
A few years ago I read a Star Tribune story about Pam Taschuk, a Lino Lakes woman who was killed by her husband. I didn’t know Pam, but her story inspired me to write this poem, and Brooke Thompson’s story (see blog entry “Brooke The Sun Goddess“) inspired me to post it.
We have been experiencing a winter that never ends. It’s mid-April and today is snowy, icy and just plain gross. Yesterday was half-way decent in comparison. Sick of hibernating, I thought it would be fun to head north to Uncle Russ and Aunt Sue’s farm in Rush City to partake in maple syruping activities. Maple sap runs best when overnight temperatures are below freezing and the daytime highs are in the 30s to mid-40s. We finally had that combo Friday (4/12); contrast that to last year when we hit 80° in March and the temperatures were so warm the sap season was skunked.