Sartell Newsleader • www.thenewsleaders.com
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Our View
‘Day at River’ great way to experience grand resource It was heartening to see so many people of all ages and walks of life have a happy time at the fifth annual “Take a Day Off at the River” last Sunday north of Sartell. The event gave people a chance to unwind and relax within the natural beauty of Stearns County Mississippi River Park on CR 1, which is right on the western edge of the mighty river that runs through it. There is something about such natural, magisterial scenery that seems to bring out the best in people. How good it was to see parents and children fishing, baiting their hooks, casting out from the steep river banks, trying their luck. Kids had a blast shooting arrows at the archery range. The excitement of adults and children was fun to observe as they oohed-and-ahhed over the animals brought from the Minnesota Zoo. Groups of people thoroughly enjoyed pontoon rides, kayaking, canoeing and hiking tours. There were more than 40 “stations” at the event – hands-on activities and educationalinformational booths and a combination of both. “Day at the River,” which began five years ago, has grown into a perennially successful event, with attendance numbers increasing by leaps and bounds every year. It’s one of those events that’s so successful, so much fun, that good word-of-mouth is its best advertisement. What’s more, the event is free, and who can argue with that? In recent years, there has been a wonderful resurgence of interest locally in the Mississippi River, a growing awareness of what a priceless resource it is. There are innovative efforts underway to maintain and improve its water quality and to develop it wisely as a recreational asset. It’s a slow, incremental process but a very good one. “Day at the River” is just one way to allow local people to experience that great resource first-hand. Sadly, too many people in the area have experienced the Mississippi River as merely something they cross on a bridge daily or from time to time. As knowledge and awareness of the river increases, more and more people will begin to understand why we are so fortunate to live in the heart of central Minnesota near or next to our magnificent river. Hats off to the event’s sponsors: Stearns County Soil and Water Conservation District, Stearns County Parks, Benton County, St. Cloud State University and the Department of Natural Resources. Also deserving of thanks are the scores of volunteers who made the day such a success. Being part of “Day at the River” was a bit like getting a glimpse of a better, more harmonious world in which all people get along so well in an idyllic environment. At the event, there were Caucasians, Somalis, African-Americans, Native Americans and people of all ages from babies to oldsters. All of them intermingled, exchanged pleasantries, had a good time. Wouldn’t it be nice if that kind of peace, harmony and happiness could be spread everywhere into the wider world?
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Friday, Aug. 16, 2013
Opinion Cancer Center staff, patients are tops I miss going to the Coborn Cancer Center. “What?!” people ask. “How can you MISS going to a CANCER center?” These are people who, understandably, have a phobia about that dreaded “C” word. As a patient with colon cancer, I “graduated” from the Coborn Cancer Center Aug. 8 after undergoing 28 radiation treatments and two bouts of chemotherapy. My prognosis, I’m told, is excellent. Let me try to explain why I miss the cancer center. For one thing, I have never met so many wonderful people in one place. In six weeks, I had the good fortune to meet at least 40 of them: receptionists, nurses, aides, technicians, doctors. There is not a one of them I did not enjoy meeting and talking with. They are not only experts, they are passionately committed to what they do day in, day out – helping others through the “journey” of cancer. What is extraordinary – beyond words – are their teamwork, their communication skills, their compassion, their personalized attention for each patient and their good humor. There is nothing worse than going to a clinic where everyone is funereal serious and long-faced. When they say “humor is the best medicine,” they’re not kidding. It really is. I used to accuse cancer-center employees of taking happy pills every morning. How can they keep up such good-humored spirits all day long, working as they do with pain and suffering? They are true pros, and so if you want to see shining examples of grace under pressure, just pay the cancer center a visit.
Dennis Dalman Editor Aside from that phenomenal staff, the other reason I miss the cancer center is because of the fellow patients I would meet and chat with in the lobby as we all waited our turns for this or that procedure. Many were bald or balding, with bandannas or caps on their heads. I didn’t go totally bald, although my hairstyle can now be described as the “wispy look.” Some of those patients looked so weak, tired and forlorn, it was enough to break your heart. My side effects weren’t that bad, but they were sometimes unpleasant enough that I could deeply relate to how some of the weakest patients must have felt. However, like the graceunder-pressure of the staff, the patients also demonstrated remarkably upbeat attitudes and good humor. Three of my favorites are what I call the Kimball Family. There was Mr. Kimball, Mrs. Kimball and their 20-something daughter, Ms. Kimball. Mrs. Kimball was undergoing treatments for breast cancer. (She’s doing fine now, thank goodness.) I called them the Kimballs because they mentioned they hail from Kimball. And they, in turn, called me Mr. Rice because I live in Rice. “Well, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Kimball!” I’d say in the lobby. “How you doin’?” “Oh, just fine, Mr. Rice. And how ‘bout you?”
“Oh, fair to middlin’, thank you.” Then we’d sit and shoot the breeze, usually about pets, as they have a night job cleaning the Kimball Veterinary Clinic, where I had my four pets “fixed.” Two other favorite “lobby people” were my neighbor Marty Dubbin and her sister, Mary Kay Tretter. Marty’s younger brother, Dean, a farmer who hails from Genola, is suffering from throat cancer. His relatives would take turns bringing him to the center. It was such a pleasure when I’d arrive at the center to see Dean, Marty and Mary Kay waiting in the lobby like old friends. And I never tired of playing mischievous verbal hi-jinx with them, especially me bragging about the spiffy new boxer underwear I had to buy and how good they look on me. They would groan and giggle, and Mary Kay would dare me to show off my hubba-hubba knickers. Then she’d giggle and blush like a naughty school girl. I will never forget my first visit to the center. A woman walked past as I was sitting there and gave me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. A blue bandanna on her head, she was thin, pale, ghostly and obviously feeling so very low. She smiled so weakly, but the smile was absolutely radiant, coming as it did from that thin, pained face. I wanted to give her a hug, and now I wish I would’ve. I’ll never forget that incandescent smile. It was exactly like seeing the triumphant human spirit shining through a veil of pain. And now, dear readers, I think you can understand why I miss that cancer center.
1992, wasn’t that just last week? I recently visited a convenience store and noticed near the check-out a sign which read, “All alcohol purchasers born after 1992 must show ID.” 1992? Wasn’t that last week? It caught me off guard. It wasn’t that long ago when I met and married my wife, and now we just celebrated our 50th anniversary. I remember the birth of my children and how scary that all was. Now they are adults with children of their own. I remember the birth of my grandchildren. It seems like it was just the other day. I guess when you are over the hill, everything but you speeds up. I know time has certainly sped up. There is nothing particularly significant about 1992 except that it was 21 years ago. People born in that year are today’s new adults. These new adults are facing a world being left to them by my generation and my children’s generation and frankly, I’m not too thrilled by what we are leaving. I doubt future people will ever know the America of my youth. There were fears to be sure. We faced polio and nuclear war and many other seemingly unsolvable problems. But we faced them in stride. Let me tell you about the good times, though.
Ron Scarbro Guest Writer In the ‘50s the cars were cool, period. You could tell them apart. You knew the difference between a Ford and a Chevy and their year model. You could drive up to the gas pump and get a dollar’s worth of gas and drive for miles and miles. And speaking of driving, we had drive-ins – drive-in restaurants and drive-in movies. And the music. The music was great. We had rock ‘n’ roll. I’m talking about the real rock ‘n’ roll – Elvis, Buddy Holly, Jerry Lee Lewis and too many others to count. We danced. Most often we danced without ever touching our dance partner. You would have to have been there. Then came the ‘60s and everything started to change. There was the Vietnam War. There were the protestors, the dropouts and the hippies. Many of us sensed the changes we were seeing were not good. People seemed to worship the ugly and the dirty. Many young people found drugs. In the ‘70s and ‘80s things contin-
ued to deteriorate. During this period the hippies who survived their drugaddled youth, grew up and became the lawyers and politicians of today. Now, sadly, they and their offspring are the so-called leaders who are creating the ongoing mess we are leaving our children. I often long for the America of my youth. I miss the simple life. I miss the security we all knew. I worry for my children and grandchildren. When I see kids glued to a computer screen instead of going outside to run and play, I worry. I know many things in today’s world are improved. I believe our lives are being extended by the comforts we enjoy like air conditioning and central heating. Medical science is creating great new cures. Cancer may soon be a thing of the past, who knows? Even with all that is good today, why would I miss yesterday? Many of you who will read this will understand and probably feel the same way. Realistically, I know we cannot go back. The ‘50s will just have to be a memory. Still I hope we have not squandered our beautiful country. I hope we have not wasted our heritage. I hope in the future we will rediscover what it means to be an American. I can only hope.