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n r e great North news February 2022 | Vol. 9 | Number 1
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- Featuring Timeless Writings from the Creative Minds of the North -
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2 great northern news | February 2022
Publisher’s Note The Last Stand
By Doug Taylor
I named him Latigo; he was scared, labeled, dangerous, and a problem horse, alone, spirited, and wild. No one had any love for him, and he could upset the whole farm with his antics. His fear of humans sent him barrel-kicking, bucking, and made him nearly impossible to catch. He hadn’t a prayer’s chance of any future besides being a steak on a plate. It was raining cats and dogs; there was wind and hail. The mighty thunder cracked! A promising young stud colt spooked, accelerated to a full gallop, jumped, and then planted himself on a cold steel fence post. Stuck, he fought for freedom, but like a lance, the fence post just worked itself deeper and deeper into his tender horse flesh. As the rain subsided and blood continued to flow out through the massive hole made by the fence post, the smell attracted a wolf. He kicked and fought for his life as the wolf attempted to make a meal of him. After a night in hell, exhausted and tormented, Latigo hung limp and dying as he continued to bleed out. Far off, a ranch hand noticed that buzzards were flying in circles over the south field. Riding out, he found the wounded horse and freed him from the fence post. Latigo fell on his side into the mud
Latigo, Brody and I make a refreshing stop in a cool creek.
and closed his eyes. There, he drifted off into a deep sleep. The ranch hand hauled his limp body to the barn, returning to his chores and leaving him for dead. Hours later, Latigo’s mighty eyes opened. Although he was weak, he was still a fighter. His first attempt to stand sent him crashing into a stall. Everyone came to his rescue. Latigo was tied up, and after a painful cleaning of his wound and hundreds of stitches, he slowly healed up and got well, but he was not the same horse. Latigo was now traumatized and fear-
ful – humans being among the scariest monsters of all to him. He regularly turned and fired kicks upon folks at any opportunity, and no human dared to go near him. After many people had put effort into getting him over his dangerous behavior, they finally loaded Latigo into a trailer. He was on his way to being slaughtered. It was at a gas station that I found him. He was kicking, snorting, and tearing up a horse trailer. I didn’t have any money, but I needed a horse. After many years spent learning and nearly getting my
head kicked off, I had become a problem horse trainer. Usually, it was the humans that created the trauma in horses. It would usually happen through physical abuse. But Latigo had trauma from an accident. After I bought him, Latigo lived in a round pen. I only worked with him in the early mornings when no one else was around. I noticed he was bluffing some, especially after he noticed I was the one who fed him. The only thing that worked to turn him from the dark side and make that bond between horse and rider was to bring on my secret
dog-trains-the-horse method. My grandfather taught me to do it with the bullwhip. In this method, you would crack the whip and protect the horse from the sound. My version of this method was to call my dog, Brody, into the round pen and have him attack us. I would then, without much trouble, save Latigo again and again from my dog. After having a fake fight, I would save Latigo by the command, “Get in the truck!” We came to an understanding: I was his human, and he was my horse. I figured I would take him Continued on page 2
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Publisher’s Note - Continued from page 2 up into the mountains. We climbed up a nearby mountain to the first switchback, and everything was fine until we rounded the bend and got a panoramic view of the bustling city below. Then, Latigo blew up like a wild mustang! After he had almost gotten away, the rope burned my hands, creating blisters. I tucked him back into his stall. I thought the city must have reminded him of the thunderstorm that had almost ended his life and forgave Latigo while relating profoundly to his feelings. A week later, we would start over. Latigo was acting stubbornly; it seemed the horse no more liked being in a corral than I did. So, it was freedom we would have! We went back to the mountains, and once we passed the first bend of a switchback, I mounted up. We rode for about a mile, going higher and higher. I was proud of my horse at that moment, but soon, we could hear a jingling mountain biker coming around the next bend. Latigo jumped off the trail, where there was no option but to go straight down. Ahead of us, in my mind’s eye, all I could see was a steep fall and us being smashed to the ground to smithereens on the rocks below. At that moment, something changed in Latigo; instead of tumbling downward, we were skiing down the mountain, which was too steep for us to stop. I kept my seat and felt a different horse beneath me – one with courage! I felt fire in his last stand to save my life or die trying. At that moment, we switched roles; I had no choice but to put my life in the “hands” of my horse. I loosened the reins and gave him his head; he felt
it and his nostrils flared. We slid another hundred feet, and, with only six feet left before a hundred-foot drop, Latigo jumped over the cliff, saving both our hides. We continued down, sliding to a stop. Then it was fifty more feet with minimal injury until a cactus struck my leg. Finally, at a switchback near a ranch, and still unable to slow down, Latigo jumped off a twelve-foot cliff with an excruciating hard landing. It felt as if someone had smashed me with a baseball bat. Latigo and I painfully rose from the hard ground. As we started back on our path, we soon walked by about a hundred men; they were all mounted on horses. With the wind still knocked out of me, I faked a smile and nodded to the witnesses of my harrowing ride. Since we were in a small town, the story got around and helped start my career in the film and television industry. As the phone rang, I remembered my ride with Latigo. I pictured perfectly in my mind the first time I saw him and how I knew that he was meant to be my horse. A lot of us might relate to Latigo. We can feel like life has knocked the wind out of us; that life around us is full of insurmountable challenges. What we may not yet know is that there’s a hero or heroine inside of us. This hero or heroine is released only at a critical moment. You, too, may feel stuck, limp, and exhausted at times. It can be overwhelming. Even so, get back up, face your fears, and be an inspiration to those around you. You were born for such a time as this. Go ahead: Take your last stand and thrive. The best is yet to come!
February 2022 | Great Northern News
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4 great northern news | February 2022
The Cruelty of a False Spring
By John Wetrosky
Spring came with a rush that year so long ago. The long northern winter came early and stayed late on the landscape. The woodpiles around the farmers’ homes dwindled until nary a stick was left to chuck into the barrel stove that heated the house. But now the ice was thawing on the lake and the rivers had begun to flow south toward the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers. Ducks and geese were returning, and the first robin had just been seen during that April. Mud was everywhere on the country roads and some schools had called for “mud vacation.” Roads were nearly impassable in spots and school buses would only get mired in the mush, hence, school superintendents wisely decided to call off school until the roadways hardened. Sometimes “mud vacation” lasted up to two weeks. The laneway to our homestead was no different. Water filled the deep ruts and only a horse or tractor was able to get us in and out of our farm place. Dad set up sawhorse barriers at the end of our lane to deter anyone from trying to get into our front yard. Milk cans were hauled out to the road to keep the milk truck driver from tearing our yard to smithereens. The creek below our home was out of its banks and our herd of milk cows were forced to stay in
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the barnyard, rather than try to negotiate their way to the pasture on the other side. The fresh green grass that grew there was a magnet calling to the herd, but the lead cow had enough sense to stay put. Just like the woodpile, the haystack was dwindling as well. We wondered if our supply would hold out until we could start using the new pasture. Our aunt’s birthday fell on April 5 and a party was planned at her house, back in the hills. After a winter of being housebound, it was a powerful pull that led the folks to decide to try to go and celebrate the occasion. With a certain amount of apprehension, we piled into the ‘51 Chevy and headed out the muddy driveway. Once on the main road, the car purred the few miles to the road that led to my aunt’s home. Once off the main road, the dirt road deteriorated as we lurched from one mud rut to the other. About halfway up on a long hill, the car came to a spinning halt with mud flying in all directions. There were no four-wheel drive cars in 1956. The four of us kids and mom sat inside while dad got out, wearing his four-buckle overshoes, and grabbed the tire chains from the trunk. Somehow, he attached the chains to the tires and climbed back into the car with his clean overalls now speckled with brown mud. The chains grabbed,
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and we headed on over the hill and down into the farmyard. It was a great birthday party with playing card games and singing the normal birthday song. Cake and ice cream were eaten, and around eight o’clock, the crew assembled for the trip home, back through the mud. The hill out of the farmyard was formidable during a dry year, but this year, it looked impossible. But, without even a word, my uncle fired up his Model “A” John Deere, pulled up in front of the car, hooked a chain onto our car’s front bumper and up we went. Up over the long hill and back onto the road to home. Carefully following the muddy ruts, our car chugged us back to the main road, and we felt a sense of accomplishment to have survived. There was a joyful feeling that spring was finally here to stay. Garden seeds had sprouted, and farmers were getting their plows ready to start the new season. The robins and other summer birds had arrived, and house windows were opened to let the fresh breezes into the house. There was a certain excitement in the air at greeting the new season. The morning of April 6, we were greeted with a strong northeast wind. The cattle were huddled up against the buildings and sleet stung the face as we left the house for morning chores. By noon that April day, one wouldn’t see across the yard through the white curtain that enveloped the landscape. It snowed and the wind blew for three days. The mud was covered by a coating of white and all human hope was dashed on the sod. Water froze and the last sticks of wood were burned in the barrel stove. False springs are cruel. They test the mettle of a human being. That false spring is a farm memory. One I think about this time of year. Don’t count your chickens before they hatch. It is mud vacation time.
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Toothpaste!?! By Mike McCann Sean smiled as he proudly held up the key to the old ‘52 Chevy pickup. He had just handed over seventyfive dollars of his pizza parlor wages to purchase his first automobile. The 25-year-old farm truck had been beefed up for heavy loads; this made it tilt forward at a steep angle, looking like a real hot rod! I was invited for the test ride. Sean jumped in the driver’s seat as I slowly slid in on the curbside. When Sean turned the key, the truck sounded like half freight train and half cement mixer. Sean nodded with a wide grin. After revving the rumbling engine into a roar several times, he put the floor shift into first gear and eased out the clutch. The old, green truck sped forward. Sean gripped the thick, black steering wheel with both hands, letting out a “Yahoo!” We were headed for Main Street. Luckily, Sean decided to drive the side streets for practice. He tried turning to the right at the first corner, but the steering wheel wouldn’t budge. Panic struck as the veins in his forearms bulged. We made the corner after the truck jumped up on the opposite curb, trimmed a hedge and just missed a power pole. Grease came to both of our minds as a possible cure for this arthritic steering system. I tried to act calm as I caught my breath and clamped onto the door handle, preparing to eject if Sean started to traverse another intersection. Somehow, we made it the five blocks to Sean’s house. The next morning from a half a block away, I saw Sean’s big red sneakers sticking out from under the rear of the old truck. “Mike, the shaft is clanging and ready to drop,” he informed me. I knelt down and saw a handful of j-joint parts laying next to Sean’s shoulder. His face was spotted alternately with freckles and grease. I had done my share of mechanicking lately since I also had an old ’52 Chevy panel truck. I was always good for advice, and Sean obviously believed I knew a lot
February 2022 | Great Northern News
more than I did. “This u-joint is shot,” he continued. After handing me several rough-looking parts, he said discouragingly, “I can’t afford any new parts till next week.” I only wanted to be supportive. “Sean, it will hold up for a while; just get something sticky from the house, like honey or toothpaste. We need to repack it, so the needle bearings stay in line while you cinch it down.” Sean wiggled out from under the pickup, quickly wiped the spots across his face and jogged into the kitchen. Soon he crawled back under the truck to join me. He had returned with a large tube of Colgate toothpaste. “I prefer Pepsodent,” I joked as he squeezed a wad of bright white dental scrub onto the bearing cup. I held the shaft up as Sean tightened the u-joint keepers. He was obviously relieved to have the truck back together. I didn’t dare tell him that toothpaste was an original and strictly experimental idea. If it worked, I planned to apply for a patent. I hoped Sean didn’t mention it to anyone. The registration hadn’t arrived, so Sean had a few days to go over the rig. He pulled a leaf out of the rear springs to make less weight on the front end for easier
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steering. I went to visit friends in eastern Montana. After several days, I called Sean. When he realized it was me, all he could say in a loud, almost hysterical voice was “Toothpaste! … TOOTHPASTE!” Oh no. Something didn’t sound good. “I thought you were my friend, Mike,” Sean moaned. “I was taking Jan (his girlfriend) out on a Sunday ride. Seven miles east of town, there was a click, click, then a loud bang. The drive shaft shot out from under the truck and stuck into a wheat field like a javelin thrower had flung it. We pushed the heavy old beast over to the side. Finally, a tow truck pulled up.” Sean explained in detail to the truck driver how he had just repacked the u-joint with toothpaste. The driver stared at him, wrinkled his brow, glanced around to see if this was “Candid Camera” and questioned Sean cautiously. “Yeah, toothpaste,” Sean was catching on to how ridiculous this sounded. He hoped the gent wouldn’t ask again. “Toothpaste!” he burst out. “In all my years…” Sean was ready to kill. Lucky for me, I was in eastern Montana.
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6 great northern news | February 2022
Book Review: House of Stars
By Sue Ready just like herself Shaka Reed, the protagoliving and huntnist in the “House of Prey,” reing together. She turns in the sequel, “House of is taken in by Stars,” a paranormal romance them at once thriller by local Minnesota and becomes an author, Jennifer Schultz. In eager observer book one, we find Shaka jugof their ways. gling two identities; one as The mysteria young woman carving her ously reluctant own path in the world, and alpha, Orion, the other as a supernatural sees something being, able to shapeshift into special in her, a wolf. The sequel “House of and urges her Stars” stands as a read alone to take a place novel as the author skillfully among their in chapter one incorporates pack. But Jennifer Schultz all the necessary backstory the pack has for the reader to understand issues of its what’s going on. As with the first book, the themes own. Between the way they seem of family bonding, a love of the outdoors and being to detest ordinary people and the true to oneself anchor this sequel. inherent violence of some of the Born a shapeshifter, Shaka Reed has spent most members, Shaka grows homesick of her life hiding who she really is, but now all for the quiet northern Minnesota of that is changing. Her best friend, Rena, finally woods. knows her long kept secret and her boyfriend, A strong and very imaginative Adrian, accepts her just as she is. When her love plot weaves together the human life encounters new challenges, Shaka runs to the and the supernatural worlds Shaka remote mountains of Yellowstone to find solace. lives between, keeping the flow of Here, she unexpectedly discovers something she the story moving along. As Shaka encounters connever dreamed possible: a commune of wolf shifters flict, she is willing to take risks as she tries to figure
About the Author...
Jennifer Schultz was raised in Pequot Lakes, MN, a small town in the lake country of central Minnesota. After graduating from Pequot Lakes High School, she moved north to Bemidji, MN. She attended both Northwest Technical College and Bemidji State University where she was the recipient of the William D. Elliot scholarship for Creative Writing while earning her Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. She currently lives in northwestern Minnesota and works as a registered nurse. When not working, she is either writing, spending time with her animals, or exploring the forests of northern Minnesota. For more information about the author and her books visit www.jenniferschultzbooks.com
out where she belongs. Two love interests add an interesting dimension to the story that Shaka manages to balance. Realistic and believable dialogues between the main characters make the story strong and there are many emotional scenes. A subplot develops when Rena, Shaka’s best friend, realizes she has a gift of special powers. She finds that she can see inside people’s minds and control their feelings. It’s an interesting challenge she must come to terms with. Shaka remains her supportive friend through it all. Schultz successfully writes a paranormal romance where the characters are able to navigate between two worlds in a believable fashion. It’s an engrossing story where the reader’s attention will be engaged right down to the last page. The epilogue hints endings are new beginnings, so readers can expect a new Shaka adventure in book three.
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The Animal Council
February 2022 | great northern news
By Jennifer Schultz They came through the forest and through the skies. Some, like the eagle, awoke early and flew for hours. Others, like the bear, slept late and ambled across a meadow to reach the meeting place. A ring of silent oaks surrounded the meeting place, which once held the water of a small lake. Now soft, wild grass covered the old lake bed, and a large granite boulder stood in the center. This was where the wolf sat. The wind rippled the crest of black fur around her neck as she looked off into the distance, as if entranced by some great curiosity no one else could see. One by one, the others came and took their seats in the ring. The fox, the weasel and the bobcat all turned their heads from the wind as it carried in the scent of rabbits. There was no hunting in the meeting place. The rabbits knew this and hopped into the ring boldly, kicking up grass and thumping on the ground in announcement. The eagle kept a careful, chilling eye on them. The ravens flew in and sat in the branches of the oaks. They shook the forest with shrill greeting to one another and then were quiet. The skunk came into the ring in a quick waddle and settled near the bear where they both dug for slugs as they waited. The others continued to arrive until the meeting place was full. Finally, the last member arrived: the man. He was tall with a light brown beard and his shaggy hat hair stuck out from under a wide brimmed hat. Around his hips sat a holstered pistol with a wooden handle. The animals shifted to give him a wide berth. Even the rabbits lost their foolish confidence. “Is everyone here?” wolf asked and received a murmur of acknowledgement in return. “Then let’s begin. I’ve called you to council to discuss a plan to secure the boundaries of the forest. The great steel grid is expanding again. There are houses within a mile of our western boundary. If we don’t hold our borders now, I fear they will push into our forest and make permanent residence.” The animals glanced sidelong at the man. He leaned against an oak and watched the wolf coolly, his mouth patiently closed. The coyote spoke next. “We can surround their tents in the night and yip and howl. That always makes them nervous!” “Some of them enjoy that, though!” one of the crows chimed in. “No,” said the wolf, “we need to think bigger.” “I can build a dam in the river and drain the lake,” the beaver offered. “They’ll lose interest in this forest if there’s no water here.” “If we alter the forest to keep them out, it will defeat
the purpose,” the woodpecker offered. A quiet chatter arose among the animals as they ran ideas past one another, though none were agreed upon. The wolf tuned out the rising and falling cadence of conversation and watched the man. Looking from one animal to another, he listened to their suggestions, his arms crossed casually across his chest and his expression one of amusement. “What would you suggest, Finn?” the wolf asked him. The conversation quieted and the animals turned and looked at him. “You’re thinking about this backwards. If you want to keep them out, you need to invite them in.” “How is that?” the wolf asked. “Give them a reason to protect this place.” “What is worth protecting to them?” wolf asked. “History, places of spiritual significance, rare life...” “We’ve seen them destroy all of those things before!” the badger protested. “You need the right audience,” Finn continued. “Developers will come here and see only dollar signs. But if you show a conservationist or a biologist, they will go back to the city and fight to protect this place for you. They will do all the work. You just need to show them something special.” There was silence among the animals. Many eyes looked to the wolf for her response. They all knew the forest held a secret member who could protect them. The wolf scanned the animals but did not see her. “She’ll never agree to it!” one of the coyotes warned. “They’ll take her kittens and make them into mittens!” Another coyote yipped with laughter, then was quiet. “She will if you ask her,” the wolf said, turning to the bobcat. The bobcat, who was shy, hunched down into the grass under the eyes of the council. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Then, finding his courage, he sat upright and continued. “It’s just that, what if they take her away, or worse?” “We will only expose her to someone who will protect her,” she said, turning toward the man. “Finn, can you bring us the right kind of human?” “Yes, I suppose I can.” “When you are certain, bring this person to the western border of the forest and follow the bobcat’s tracks. He will lead you to her den. That is all.” With that, the wolf stood up and simply trotted away. “Not great at goodbyes, is she?” the raccoon said. Skunk, who stood beside him, shrugged and went back to digging for slugs. Five days later, when the animals heard Finn’s voice at the edge of the forest, they ran and hid along the trail to the den. His deep voice carried a great distance.
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Sometimes, a softer voice would answer him. He laughed, then said something, then laughed again. The soft voice replied and so the conversation went. As they rounded the corner toward the den, the animals saw he walked with a woman who wore her dark hair tied up in bun. She wore glasses and carried a big camera. The collar of a plaid shirt stuck up from her wool sweater. “Looks like a biologist!” one coyote observed, and the other animals shushed him, straining to hear their conversation. Finn and the woman grew quiet as they neared the den before crouching on their knees until half-hidden by the grass. At the mouth of the den, a pair of yellow eyes pierced the darkness. Then, slowly, she stepped out into the light and looked around. “Wow,” the woman whispered as she swung her camera into position and started taking pictures. “Beautiful!” The lynx, who heard them coming from the time Finn laughed at the edge of the forest, watched them from the corner of her eye. At her feet, four unsteady kittens teetered out of the den. “Amazing,” the woman whispered as she pointed her camera at them. “Do you have any idea how rare the lynx is in Minnesota?” Finn didn’t answer but glanced toward the edge of the trail where the animals watched, and smiled. In less than a minute, the lynx took her kittens back into the den and did not come out again, but it had been enough. The animals watched as Finn led the woman back down the trail while she talked about the steps she would take to have the forest deemed a critical habitat. When they crossed the forest boundary, the animals came out on to the trail and danced in excitement. Now they understood what Finn had meant when he said, “Let them in to keep them out.”
Old Pete the Mule
By William S. Weinrich Several years ago, my late father-inlaw, Orval Mossbarger, always farmed with horses and mules. He walked behind the breakin’ plow for many years, cut his corn, put it in shocks, hauled the manure out of the barn and drug his winter’s wood out with a mule or a horse. My father-in-law kept his horses and mules until they died. And he usually buried them on the farm with a pick and shovel. One spring when my father-in-law went to the barn, he found “Old Bill.” The faithful horse, dead in his stall. Old Bill had been born and raised on the farm. So, father-in-law commenced to look for a replacement for Old Bill. In those days, there were still horse traders in the country, so father-in-law hunted up a local horse trader that he knew, and “Old Pete” made a new place in history.
Old Pete was bought straight out of the log woods. Besides horse tradin’, the fellow had used Old Pete in the woods and that was when Mead Paper Mill bought four-foot paper wood. Many a logger used horses and mules and even oxen. Whoever broke Old Pete broke him right. You didn’t even need lines when you plowed Old Pete, voice commands only. My father-in-law dug graves in a cemetery not far from where we live. He kept a small sled in a building in the cemetery and used Old Pete to haul the dirt from the graves. All the graves were dug with a pick and shovel. When my father-in-law retired, a 75-year-old man and yours truly dug graves for over 20 years. My boys and I dug for another 10 years. Old Pete was an all-around mule. But he had one fault. He hated the smell of fresh blood and copperheads. In my
younger days, everybody put out a big garden – plenty of potatoes and everything else to get the family through the winter. The old timers used to say it took a 500-pound fat hog to put each member of the family through the winter. I remember one fall my father-in-law had been in the hospital and wasn’t able to plow out his potatoes. So, some of the family decided to get the potatoes out. I was elected to harness up Old Pete, get the single-shovel plow out of the corn crib, and plow out the potatoes. I liked to work Old Pete because he would listen to me. We were a going along real good when Old Pete got to shying around a piece of tin that was lying close to the potato patch. My mother-in-law had an old hen and a bunch of chickens (baby ones) in a cage next to the smokehouse where the hen and chicks could pick and scratch.
My father-in-law was sitting in a chair, and he was a wondering what was wrong with Old Pete. All at once, I said to one of my nephews, “Go get your pistol and hurry!” In a few minutes, my nephew was back with his pistol. I tied Old Pete up away from the garden and told my two boys to get some heavy sticks and lift up the tin. I told my nephew to be ready with his pistol. My boys lifted up the tin and there were two big copperheads… And they were mating! In my whole born days, I have never seen a pair of snakes in the mating stage. My nephew quickly got rid of the snakes, and me and Old Pete commenced to plow out the potatoes. Old Pete lived to be an old mule and my father-in-law really missed the old mule when he passed on.
8 great northern news | February 2022
k r a M y e s d Lin
Introducing Mark Lindsey, Chef Extraordinaire By Sue Ready
Mark Lindsey, Chef Extraordinaire, brings 40 plus years of culinary experience to his new role as Director of Food and Beverage at The Merit, located at Trapper’s Landing Lodge in Walker, Minnesota. His variety of experiences make him stand out in the food and beverage industry. Lindsey graduated from the Culinary Institute in 1980 and from there, he took off to explore the culinary scenes overseas – from the Hawaiian Islands to Europe. He has worked as a chef on a cruise freighter, serving 85 passengers and 70 crew members on a route that went from San Francisco to Honolulu to 4 Micronesian Islands and back. His five years in the army brought him to a prestigious post, where most of his time was spent as a chef for the General Mess for Supreme Allied Commander of Europe Station in Mons, Belgium. Moving stateside, he continued his work in the food and beverage industry with Win Schuler, a well-known restaurant group based in Michigan. Then, off he went to Lutsen Resort on the North Shore of Lake Superior. Next, his adventures took him to the 4 Diamond resort in Utah, then back to Lutsen for another stint. Finally, he “landed” at Trapper’s Landing Lodge, here in Minnesota in May 2021.
Employment at The Merit attracted Lindsey. “The food and beverage program has so many opportunities for growth that I get to use my 40plus years’ experience in a lot of different ways. The owners, the Arnold Family, have given me a lot of free rein to grow the restaurant and use my culinary talents. They are always super supportive. They really take care and show an interest in their employees and their lives.” The Merit, formerly known as BeachFire Bar and Grille, is one of the few restaurants on Leech Lake with lake access that offers indoor and bar dining and patio dining options with spectacular views. Since the clientele ranges in age from young families to retirees, Lindsey has come up with a menu that offers something for everyone. He notes, “As most chefs, I like to cook the high-end fancy stuff, which I still get to do, but we still have to market a more mainstream menu with burgers and nachos. We try to make them with the best ingredients and adding our own touch.” Lindsey adds his personal and creative touches, making most items from his personal recipes. “We serve more upscale ingredients than most other places. We have added some wild game to the menu and use some cooking techniques not used in this area, like Sous Vide, Molecular Gastronomy
February 2022 | great northern news and Himalayan salt blocks.” Sous Vide is a method of food preparation that allows you to be very precise in your cooking to get the best results. It’s the process of vacuum sealing food in a bag, then cooking it to a precise temperature in water. Meat at The Merit is cooked with this method. One of The Merit’s specialties is 24-hour sous vide ribs made with a homemade rub and BBQ sauce. Another popular item is their 48hour brisket served in sandwiches and over nachos. There are two dessert offerings that are gluten-free: cheesecake and flourless chocolate cake. Lindsey puts his own spin on the desserts, preparing them in mason jars and cooking them sous vide. Another unique food preparation employed by the restaurant is the use of Himalayan salt blocks. It’s a great way to cook and present food. Himalayan salt blocks can hold a temperature for a long time. Lindsey enthusiastically endorses this method for their searing and cooking ability. “Great steaks need a great sear.” Most burgers and sandwiches are served with heirloom tomatoes. Nueske bacon (from neighboring Wisconsin) and duck bacon are used, and the sauces and bean dips are all homemade. Specials on weekends may include Wagyu beef, fresh halibut, pheasant and elk chops. A lot of items they use are already gluten-free; exceptions are the buns and cranberry bread. If requested, the kitchen will make an item gluten free if it’s possible to do so. They usually have an item available to substitute for pasta. Sunday Brunch is a dining option not to miss. The variety and quality of food offerings are impressive – as is the presentation. Every week, Lindsey and his staff try to change up the entrees, serving pheasant or elk stews, fresh fish and the ever popular 48-hour brisket. Bottomless mimosas certainly are a draw for the Sunday crowd. Lindsey is in the process of building an impressive wine and cocktail menu. Drink specials are available. Emphasis is placed on serving wine in the correct glass as well as serving it at the correct temperature. Going forward, plans include offering more food and wine events. In the meantime, outdoor winter dining experiences have not been overlooked. One of the perks for the ice fisherman is the ease of calling for a pizza delivery that’s brought right to your icehouse door. On the horizon are the plans to bring a couple of igloos in for a unique private dining experience. Igloo dining will include cheese and chocolate fondue, Wagyu beef or Ahi Tuna and other tasty items cooked on Himalayan salt blocks. Check their Facebook page for updated information. Mark Lindsey is The Merit’s biggest asset. He’s definitely a Chef Extraordinaire with his impressive culinary skills. His approach to food preparation is creative, showing his willingness to take risks and try new things. Lindsey creates a harmonious environment for his staff. He executes dishes that are appetizing and delicious. Reserve a spot at The Merit for your next Up North dining experience and meet Chef Extraordinaire Mark Lindsey at Sunday Brunch from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. His delectable array of food offerings will not disappoint.
An igloo provides a unique private dining experience.
Photos by Scott Sater Photography
The Merit at Trapper’s Landing 1812 Merit Rd. NW Walker, MN Thursday-Fri 4-8 p.m. Saturday 11 a.m. - 8 p.m. Sunday 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Sunday Brunch 10 a.m. -2 p.m. For reservations call 218-836-2062
An impressive wine and cocktail menu is being built to accompany The Merit’s delectable menu.
9
Surge
10 Great Northern News | February 2022
A Short Story By Jesse Pangerl
There is an energy that invades us while we are on vacation. Potential energy. An energy that builds and crackles while we while away our time in mundanity. In our brains, restraints are released, and action begins to come before thought when we feel the time is coming. A sudden release of months, maybe years in the course of a day or two. However, adrenaline doesn’t mix well with foresight. On the ground, it felt like an incredible idea for one man to climb to the top of a dock-crane arch and leap to the deep lake port nearby. It was so incredible that every person at work on the port that day caught wind, staring suddenly, eyes shielded from the spotlight of the sun, up at a man in American Flag swim trunks defying all instincts. With an eight-story stair and ladder climb to consider the gravity he forced upon himself, the man stepped up gingerly onto the blue-painted steel crossbeam that would be his diving board to the water so distant below. The shiver in his toes and fingers and the apprehension in his movements reported a war between common sense and spontaneity... and common sense was losing. Only two feet of width atop an eight-story high beam was deadly dangerous and everyone could feel it now. Looking below, the man could see the people watching. It was not just workers but tourists, and commuters now too. Every glance down as he inched the 20 yards across was met with more and more fascinated viewers. Viewers who must have suspected they would more likely be watching a suicide than a dive. Concern and awe peppered the distant audience below. The wind howled in his ears and charged at his flanks. He bent his quivering knees to keep balance, so nearly retreating to all fours to cling to the sides of the beam, but he knew it was over if that happened. It was sinking in. He was running out of time. Soon his nerve would be gone. He had to keep on his feet. He had to clear 20 feet. Just 20 feet. The distance from the base of the crane to the deep port. 20 feet may not feel very far, but the cost of failure, the cost of only 19 feet, was unforgiving. Even just a nick on the concrete barrier meant sudden and irreversible consequences that would follow through the rest of his life, whether it was 50 years or 5 more seconds.
Standing, buffeted by the c o l d wind of the lake, he knew he could analyze no longer. There is a critical point in any stunt of this magnitude. That point where one realizes they are about to do it. It is the zenith of decision and with it the monumental, momentary yet infinite time to decide to retreat. Once that herculean moment passes, one is fully committed and must rely on things other than sense and preparation. Things like skill, dexterity... and luck. The moment passes. Informed by a crowd and ego, his life is suddenly left in the strength of his own two feet. This is it. Step, step, step... No thoughts penetrate the man’s brain, which is focused on surviving this encounter. Step, step, step... He now bolts down the two-foot wide, eight-story high, open-air thoroughfare, perhaps the first footprints here since its construction. Step, step, step... The beam falls from the man’s sight as the heaving, vast horizon and the imminent cold lake awaits nearly 90 feet below, quickly replaced by the threat: 20 feet of concrete. Step, step, launch! A toe... A toe slips on the launch and a leg sputters out. He flutters, grace leaves him, disaster takes hold, survival becomes slim. The other leg desperately compensates, pressing off so hard against the sharp, unforgiving end of the girder that it pulls a muscle. No more control. His role in his life is played and over. There is only... Freefall. A moment of weightlessness is his reward, flying his flag in a nearly graceful arch. His body tumbles through the air. It lasts forever.
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An endless era burning into the mind of the man, his eyes closed as he anticipates the Splash! Cold water violates his orifices. His ears battered with the sudden sound of a bursting dam. His sinuses smash like dynamite in a tunnel. The blasting cacophony and mind-bending pain were quickly replaced by the darkness and the quiet. A contemplative sensation of the sudden alone took him, coddled by the cool water still nearly weightless, but different. Was this death? Was this what it was like? Peace and disorientation with a not-sosubtle sprinkling of fantastic and novel pain? No. His lust for air said otherwise but he could tell death was still on the way. Clamber, clamber, clambers for air. Righting and swimming, instinct and luck guided the man to air even though that same instinct would have had him stay grounded in the first place. His body knows it takes more than a $30 pair of swim trunks to fly. Gasp! The first one in a lifetime for a man perhaps too guided by whimsy. The first one for a crowd weighing their responsibility and the emotional depths of an obviously dead man. But he lived. So they cheered. And suddenly the mundane did not feel so torturous, and the man welcomed it back with glee, holding on to the fear and reward of surviving himself.
February 2022 | Great Northern News 11
Soup, salmon and brookies Recipes By Sue Ready Roasted Vegetables and Salmon with a Maple Mustard Sauce The discovery of sheet pan dinners is a game changer when you’re wondering what to make for dinner.You can literally take any protein, mix it up with a vegetable and some sauce or seasonings, and voila – dinner is in the oven. In this recipe, spicy Dijon mustard, maple syrup, and a splash of apple cider vinegar join forces to turn basic salmon fillets into a flavorful dinner. Cook’s Notes: Having everything cooked and ready at the same time can be challenging. It requires some of the ingredients to go on the tray first, as they need to be cooked longer. Give the vegetables a 10-minute head start before adding the salmon. Recipe was adapted from February 2020 www.cuisineathome.com Cooking Tip: Look for wild Pacific salmon. It has more complex flavor and is more nutritious than farm raised.Wild salmon tends to pack more calcium, iron, zinc, and potassium than farmed salmon.
Italian Orzo Vegetable Soup with Sausage and Spinach It’s comforting to have a simmering pot of soup on hand no matter what the weather. This soup is simple, flavorful and hearty.You probably have most of the ingredients on hand. Cook’s Notes: For easier prep, cook the Italian sausage ahead and pre-chop the veggies. Omit the meat, and the remaining ingredients make a great vegetarian soup. This soup tastes even better the second day. Pair with cornbread, your
ITALIAN ORZO VEGETABLE SOUP WITH SAUSAGE AND SPINACH
Start to finish: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients: 2-1/2 cups cooked Italian sausage, crumbled 1-1/2 Tablespoons olive oil 1 cup each diced: sweet onions, celery, carrots, mini sweet red and yellow peppers 3 garlic cloves, peeled and minced 8 to 10 cups chicken broth, low sodium 1 can (14 oz.) fire roasted diced tomatoes 1-1/4 cups dried orzo or whole wheat orzo pasta or another small pasta 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning or 1/4 teaspoon each thyme, oregano, rosemary, basil 1 teaspoon parsley flakes 4 cups fresh spinach leaves, stems removed (half of a 5-ounce bag) Grated Parmesan cheese Directions: Heat olive oil in a large soup or stock pot. Add in onions, celery, carrots, peppers and garlic. Sauté for 2 minutes, stirring often. Cover and reduce to low heat. Sweat vegetables for 5-8 minutes. Stir occasionally. Uncover and add in broth, canned tomatoes, orzo, seasonings and cooked sausage. Bring soup to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat to low and simmer 30 minutes. Stir in spinach leaves and cook until spinach is wilted – about 2-3 minutes. Serve soup warm, topped with grated Parmesan cheese. To reheat, add more chicken broth.
favorite sandwich or a crusty artisan bread.
Brookies These Brookies are rich, fudgy, decadent bars that are half brownie and half cookie. Easy to make with basic pantry ingredients, this is the ultimate way to enjoy your two favorite sweet treats in one! They are so easy and fun to make. Cook’s Notes: Go rogue and switch up the color of the M&Ms for different holidays. Try
green M&Ms and mint-flavored Oreo cookies. Viola! You have now created Mint Brookies for a St. Patrick’s Day treat. Because these Brookies have two separate batters, they need to be baked for 40 minutes total. When the cookies start to turn golden on top, you know they are done. They will seem soft straight from the oven but will stiffen as they cool. This recipe was developed by http://two-in-the-kitchen. com
BROOKIES
Start to finish: 1 hour | Servings: 24 Ingredients: 1 Ghirardelli brownie box mix or your favorite brownie mix, plus ngredients needed for brownie mix as per instructions on the box 10 Oreos broken into large pieces 1-1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup butter, softened 1/4 cup brown sugar 1/4 cup granulated sugar 1 large egg 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/2 cup chocolate chips 1/2 cup Red, Pink and White M&Ms for garnish
Submitted photo
Directions: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a 9x9 pan with foil or parchment paper and spray with baking spray. Make brownies according to package directions and pour batter into the prepared pan. Break up Oreos by hand and place them randomly on top of the brownie layer. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, baking soda and salt. Set aside. In a large mixing bowl, cream together the butter and two types of sugars until blended. Add egg and vanilla and mix. Add flour mixture in two or three additions and mix thoroughly until blended. Mixture will be thick. Stir in chips. Divide dough into several parts, flatten it and lay randomly on top of Oreo cookie layer. Pat down slightly. Cookie dough does not have to completely cover brownie and Oreo cookie layers as you can allow brownie and cookie pieces to “peek” through. Press M&Ms into the top of the cookie batter and bake for approximately 35-40 minutes or until the top is golden brown, the center is set and a toothpick comes out fairly clean. Allow to cool before cutting them into approximately 24 bars.
ROASTED VEGETABLES AND SALMON WITH A MAPLE MUSTARD SAUCE Start to finish: 45 minutes | Servings: 2 to 3 Ingredients: 1/4 cup pure maple syrup 2 Tablespoons olive oil 2 Tablespoons Dijon mustard 1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar 1 Tablespoon fresh thyme or 1 teaspoon dried thyme 1 teaspoon dried parsley flakes 2 cups broccoli florets 2 cups cauliflower florets 2 cups quartered sweet potato slices 1/2 cup dried cranberries or cherries 2 salmon fillets, 6 ounces each Lemon slices Optional: Parmesan cheese Submitted photo
Directions: Whisk together syrup, olive oil, Dijon mustard, vinegar, parsley flakes and thyme. Set aside. Preheat oven to 425 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone pad. Toss broccoli, cauliflower and sweet potatoes with one half of the syrup mixture and roast 10 minutes. Add fillets with lemon slices and cranberries. Brush with rest of syrup mixture. Cook fillets until a thermometer registers 125 to 130 degrees F – about 12 minutes more.
12 great northern news | February 2022
S Horse-o- cope
PAGE 12
GREAT NORTHERN NEWS
Aries – March 21-April 19 Today is not going to be your day. If you’re ever going to slip on the ice or choke on your grain, it would happen today. So, you should probably just hide in your stall, eat slowly, and wait for tomorrow. Taurus – April 20-May 20 by Johyn Wetsroky Today you’re feeling social, and it’s contagious! The timberwolf pushing snow withand its deep Today is the daywas to jump the fence makechest newas it wove its way along the creek bottom. Frost clung to its friends with in the next pasture! whiskers at the the sideshorses of the long, broad nose and steam rose
from the nostrils. The wolf paused at the edge of the field
Gemini – May 21-June 20 Once again, you feel your problem-solving skills sharpening to a point! Fantastic adventure awaits you out in the world, and it’s only one latched gate away.
Cancer – June 21-July 22 Plain and simple: today you’re in a bad mood. Just remember if you’re going to bite the hand that feeds you, you should probably stomp on his foot, then turn around and kick him, too! That way, he quits, and they will have to hire a new stable hand who will still give you treats.
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could no longer bring down a deer or gracefully leap into
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young pups were beginning their chorus. Then the pack leader opened his hymnal and the others of the pack suddenly became quiet. She knew the sound of the leader. She had run beside him as he threw himself into the side of a weakened deer last winter and the pack converged to eat their fill. PAGE 12 NORTHERN NEWSwhen they had finished. No trace of theGREAT deer was to be found Just a hollow, red spot in the snow. young pu leader ope The old wolf Leo – July 23-August 22 Capricorn – knew the power of the pack. How each ly became individual had a specific purpose and how they employed run beside Typically, you’re the meanest pony in the barn, but December 19 She longed to run again ened deer those instincts22-January toward survival. No trace o remember when your owner’s bratty kid comes You arethem. naturally an exuberant and easily with She whimpered a shortpony answer in their direction. Just a hol The sound of the pack closer to But her as she stood The old around wanting to be your new best friend, the get carried away in all thecame excitement. just individua alone on the edge of the field and suddenly a deer burst from enemy of your enemy is your friend. because you enjoy kicking the walls of your stall, those inst the trees and lunged across the opening. She could hearwith the them it doesn’t mean we all hear banging. In she The sou pack in close pursuit andlike sheto could notthe help herself and alone on t Virgo – August 23-September 22 other once in a while. threwwords, her oldshut bonesup into the chase. the trees a Within seconds the big male was running close besidepack her in cl You throw yourself into your harness today.You threw her as they closed on the quarry. She felt his breath and could Within feel strong and capable. There are many cookies Aquarius – January 20-February 18 hear his lungs grabbing for fresh air. As in past hunts, as she they cl hear in your future to reward you for your hard work. New beand scary formale you took today, hey, tookthings the leftca side the big thebut right. She knew his l took the l what was next.like that new brand of cookies, if what was you may really With a a lunge, the huge male grabbed a front leg of the Libra – September 23-October 22 you With give them a try! and i deer and it rolled in a avalanche of powdered snow. Withdeer all her streng The grass may truly be greener on the other side her strength, she powered into the deer and within seconds all was qu they caug of the fence. The only way to fi nd out is to run Pisces– February 19-March 20 all was quiet, except for the puffing of the rest of the pack as by Johyn Wetsroky the hip deep snow and bring out a mouse or vole. Her teeth, The lea they up to theirisprey. The timberwolf snow with its deep chestaas some ofcaught them broken, could no longer theirworry. way ed until s through the fencewas andpushing give the neighbors’ lawn So, the new now barn cat ignoring you.tear Don’t wove its snow way along the creek Frost clung its through bone andlooked sinew. on as she ate her fill. The others waitpack mov theit hip deep and bring out abottom. mouse or vole. Hertoteeth, The leader nibble. It’sItednot interesting. Theyturn. are whiskers at the sides of the long, broad nose and steam rose was abecause crystallineyou’re night innot the woods. Snow sparkled on and watch some of them now broken, could no longer tear their way until she was sated before they took their As thebroad from the nostrils. The wolf paused at the edge of the field every bough of fir and the scattered beaver ponds resembled his probably just shy. Try giving them a friendly nip. clearing. flat, white featherbeds. overhead clearly mellow v through bone and sinew. pack moved off afterStars they glistened had cleaned up, thesoold wolf stood a huge specimen and had reared many litters of that they looked closer to the earth than normal. No hint of thy partne It She waswas a crystalline night23-November in theShe woods. Snow 21 sparkled on That Scorpio October andcould watched. The attention leader stopped, looked back at her over will get their andsniffed let them know pups, but –now she was alone. had purposely left the wind be detected as the old wolf the air, hopalong wit every bough of fir and the scattered beaver ponds resembled his broad shoulder, lifted his huge head and raised his deep, confines of the pack to seek her final resting place. She ing to detect the scent of an easy meal. It was h You may be feeling a little put out today. Maybe you are open to socialize.
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Dear Tinker, Dear Tinker: My name is Squiggles,
slithered to the other side of my tank to glare at my now cold dinner. Frozen mice reheated in the microwave is pretty good, but a cold mouse? That’s just gross. Later when my mom came back I saw something hot and moving out of the corner of my eye with me in my tank. I thought it was another mouse, but when I bit into it I realized my mistake. It was Mom’s finger! I don’t think I have ever seen her so mad! She picked
My name is Sophie, and I am an orange, domestic, short hair cat. The other day, I went out to the garage to eat my midnight snack, only to find that, not only was my food gone, but I spied a raccoon running away with my food bowl. What should I do?
I’m a ball python with a problem. Last week when mom put me in my special feeding tank and gave me my mouse I was having one of those awkward days when you seem to trip over your own feet for no reason, and I don’t even have feet! I just couldn’t get my mouse positioned right in my mouth so I could eat it. Finally I threw my “hands” up in exasperation and
Dear Sophie:
I think I know that raccoon. He is Monsieur Mayhem’s cousin, and for $234 I will give you his address. ----------------------------------------------
Dear Tinker:
My name is Alex. I am a black long-haired cat and I love my owners very much. But… they always dog sit this blue healer and she never leaves me alone. What should I do?
Dear S This is lem ever through a other. Wh is prove you can This is m by the fac terrarium are goin you are g way out while yo ing and slither ov curl up o she wake • • • • • •
Board Card G Rolepl Dice Minia Paints
Dear Alex:
You’re my play toy. Deal with it. -----------------------------------------------
Dear Tinker:
My name is Roscoe, and I am a raccoon in town on business. The other night, I was enjoying the night air when I spotted a dish full of food. Being the scrapper that I am, I went and ate it. The bowl was shiny, so I decided to keep it as a souvenir from my trip. As I finished my midnight snack, I grabbed the bowl and was walking off when I was approached by an orange cat. Oh my gosh – was she mad! She even threatened legal action if I did not pay for her food and return the bowl. What should I do?
Dear Roscoe:
If there is knock at your door don’t answer it. P.S. I know nothing.
MON.-
February 2022 | great northern news 13
Miscalculations Will Put a Dent in Your Firewood Supply By John Wetrosky There was a time in this fair North Country when oil prices skyrocketed and chased many northern dwelling folks into the woods. With temperatures always expected to drop into the minus 30s sometime during an upcoming winter, some homeowners decided to take to the woods to secure their heating needs for winter. That effort seemed from the outside to be a good idea. Anyone who has ever worked in the woods knows that trees are heavy. They are dead weight and logs require a certain amount of horse or people power to be moved from one place to another. Today’s logging companies have equipment that will easily move such wood, but back in the 1970s, many neophyte woodcutters entered the woods with a chainsaw, and they didn’t have to pass a test to use it. A dangerous combination. My wife and I were no different. We had just built a house and we had a wood/fuel oil combination furnace installed. Those years were the heyday of wood-burning furnaces and many different brands sprung up to meet the needs of those who thought they would be able to lower the cost of the heating season. Gone were the old barrel stoves of the past, which were responsible for burning more cabins to the ground than any other heating source and were decreed uninsurable by company inspectors. With a new chainsaw and an almost new pickup, my wife entered the woods after purchasing a woodlot permit from the county. Our selected woods plot featured live oak, ash and aspen trees. It was common knowledge that these species were the preferred woods to burn. They produced less smoke and creosote than birch. The live logs were also heavy. We set to work that first afternoon with the chainsaw and felled a number of oak trees. We then cut them into eightfoot lengths
to be hauled to our home where they were sawed again into sixteen-inch lengths and then split and stacked. We easily put up three loads before dark. The pickup’s lights were pointing toward the heavens as we trucked up the gravel road. We remarked to each other that this was a great way to get our exercise. The next morning, neither of us could crawl out of bed. My leg muscles felt like noodles and my back wasn’t in much better shape. My wife limped to the kitchen to make breakfast, where we mutually decided that we would take the day off. We took a week off to heal up. There is such a thing as false economy when it comes to putting up your own wood. One of our local friends took his new pick up into the woods during that period of time and promptly dropped a huge aspen tree across the pickup’s box. He showed up at the coffee shop the next day with a big “U” dent in both sides of his box. The new pickup was also missing one hubcap and a corner of the bumper was pushed under the fender. One taillight was missing. No one said anything to him, but we knew he had been trying to save some fuel oil money. After getting our muscles back in relative shape, my wife and I ventured back to our wood plot with the knowledge that we needed to limit our cutting to the point where
we could walk the next day. And we succeeded in putting up enough wood to assure us of an ample supply the following year after the wood had “cured.” When we entered the plot on the last day, we found a couple just like us standing alongside their pickup. The pickup had sunk into the mud up to the running boards. They had also managed to fell a giant oak, which had caught two other trees on the way to earth and all three trees were leaning dangerously close to the roof of the pickup. “We’ve got somewhat of a problem here,” the young man said. “I told him that we were too close to the tree when he cut it,” his wife spoke. “Now, look what we’ve got, a pickup stuck in the mud with tree trees about to crash through our cab!” she moaned. I could see that this was going to be a test of their marriage vows. I volunteered to give them a ride to a neighboring town. There, they could call one of their relatives who had a tractor nearby that they could use to jerk their vehicle out of the muck and out of danger. We never did hear how the situation turned out. I didn’t read anything about them in the police blotter column in the local paper. I hoped for the best. Wood is still the fuel of choice for many who live up here in the trees. The sweet smell of a wood fire is soothing and comforting to the soul on a cold Minnesota day. We used our wood furnace for thirty years and I have the cramps in my back to prove it. We still burn a bit of wood, but only in the fireplace. After our furnace finally gave up the ghost years ago, we switched to propane and electric. The big woodpile is but a memory. So is my backache. My wife can’t get rid of the smile on her face when that first snowflake falls.
Monsieur Mayhem: Wine and Women Well, hello, all you great northerners. It’s your favorite masked mayhem checking in with my latest foodie find! In the winter, I don’t get out quite as much as I do in the summer, but on the night of a full moon recently, I made a date with a lovely lady. Ah, she is a looker – long eyelashes and a beautiful sheen to her fur. I met her one night at a dumpster dive in Grand Rapids… It was love at first sight. Her name? Mademoiselle Serenity. (Yes, opposites attract). Well, I decided for a first date that I should probably do a bit better than a late-night dumpster raid. I’d heard ladies like wine… (True?) So, I asked her to meet me at this great wine bar I’d heard of in downtown Grand Rapids called “UnWined Up North.” Sounded like the perfect place for a couple of coons on a night out. I arrived early (doing my very best to be a gentleman) and picked out a cozy
booth. Before long, there she was – graceful and elegant as ever. She joined me at the table and the waitress brought our menus. My, what a delight! There were Minnesota wines and mouth-watering appetizers. There were creative salads and gourmet sandwiches named after Minnesota lakes. And then there were the flatbread pizzas! Oh, my! The flatbread pizzas all sounded amazing. They were named after Minnesota-born celebrities, like Judy Garland, Winona Ryder, Bob Dylan, and Prince. Well, the lady decided to get the “Judy Garland,” a flatbread topped with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella, fresh basil, and sea salt. I ordered the “Prince.” This delectable entrée featured fig preserves, pear, arugula, a pizza blend of cheeses, prosciutto, and blue cheese. I couldn’t wait… But wait, don’t forget the wine! We both decided to go with a red wine. I ordered a glass of the Cannon River Gunflint Red, a semi-sweet wine with notes of blackber-
ries, spice, and smokey oak. The description reminded me of the Northwoods… home. My lady went with the Carlos Creek Reserve Marquette. It was described as having a complex flavor, featuring black cherries and currants with notes of vanilla and oak. (Maybe next time, we’ll try the North Shore Honeymoon Trail… Oh la la!) Well, after a minute of gazing fondly into each other’s eyes… the wine arrived. After a quick toast, I took a sip. Mmm… the Gunflint Red did not disappoint. Mademoiselle enjoyed Marquette just as much, and we traded glasses for a sip. The flatbread pizzas were amazing! I felt like a prince as I savored each bite. My Serenity said the Judy Garland reminded her of home. After all, “there’s no place like home.” What a glorious evening! I even stayed out of trouble for a day. It must be the influence of a graceful companion. As much as I enjoy the challenge of dumpster-diving, you can’t beat Minnesota hospitality and delicious local food.
14 Great Northern News | February 2022
Yes, there was a Grizzly Adams
By Rich Engstrom
In the mid-1800s, Californians would witness a tall, bearded mountain man coming into their town with a menagerie of wild animals. J.C. Adams looked as wild as the animals in the cages of his wagon. But the interest of the townspeople was not in the caged animals, but in the two bears that were walking, tied to the wagon. The people would come forward with great interest but would back up when they were told that the bears were not black bears but were the feared grizzlies. Grizzlies, killers of men and livestock, were so feared by Californians that they were eradicated from their state by the end of the century. J.C. Adams, known for a time as “Old Adams,” came from New England and was trained as a shoemaker. At first, he was looking for gold, but later he became a hunter and trapper. Many people got to know Grizzly Adams first in the 1974 movie, “The Life and Times of Grizzly Adams.” The popularity of the movie (one of the top ten grossing movies in 1974) led to a TV show (1977-1978), which our family watched every week. (Maybe that was because we only had one station to watch from, via a wire we ran through the woods as our antenna.) But it was entertaining – a mountain man training and living with one of the most dangerous animals on the planet. I’m sure many people saw the movie and the TV show as completely fictional. A North American grizzly bear is not only huge and fast but getting between a mother and her cubs can lead to one’s demise. One swipe of their mighty paw could mean instant death. The movie, “The Revenant” (made in 2015, starring Leonardo DiCaprio) is a true story of a mother grizzly attacking Hugh Glass in 1823. Even though the bear is computer-generated, it
shows how really powerful the North American King of Beasts can be. Leaving his family back in Massachusetts, Adams tried various businesses, but bad luck seemed to follow. His fortunes went up and down. He would become rich, then would lose everything, and would become poor again. After an appearance in court, he became so upset with his livelihood that he put all his belongings in an ox-driven wagon and headed to the mountains. Away from civilization, Adams would live off the land, hunting and trapping, selling meat and furs to the local settlers. Being a shoe repairman, he would fashion furs into clothing and moccasins. While on a hunting expedition, he came across a den with two small cubs and took them back to his camp. He then realized that he had a big problem – they still had their eyes closed and had been living off their mother’s breast milk. Adams just happened to have a greyhound that had just given birth and so he added the cubs to the reluctant mother. Adams, while training his bears and adding to his wild animal collection, captured other wild animals and sent them east to sell. He still traveled around giving shows with Ben Franklin, his favorite bear. Ben would let Adams ride him, astonishing the crowd, who not only believed grizzlies to be the wildest of all North American animals, but truly believed no man could train or even be near the giant beasts. While traveling the wilds of California, Adams would find himself in deadly encounters with the big bad brown bears. Once, a mother grizzly attacked Adams, who was then rescued by his favorite bear, Ben. Unfortunately, Ben took a beating, losing an eye to the wild beast. But with Ben’s help, Adams had time to reload and kill the attacker. That was
just one of the many attacks Adams endured while capturing the mighty bears. Another encounter almost killed Adams and left the mountain man with a hole in his skull, losing part of his scalp. In 1856, he took his menagerie to San Francisco to set up in the basement of a large home, his Mountain Man Museum. Dressed in buckskin, Adams led paying guests through the animal zoo to show off his control over the wild hairy beasts. Adams’s collection of wild animals was made up of about a dozen bears, a buffalo, and birds such as the California condor and eagles, among others. (I can just imagine what smell radiated from a basement in the 1800s, full of wild animals) It was in 1858 that his be-
loved gentle giant, Ben, died. Adams then decided to take the rest of the show, in 1860, for a three-month trek around the southern end of South America on his way to New York. He had realized that he needed more capital to keep his animals. Adams met up with P.T. Barnum, who supported him financially. Large crowds attended his shows, wanting to see the animals and the wild man who trained and walked among the wild beasts. It was the many bear encounters that led to the early death of Grizzly Adams at the age of 48. The wound on his head was open and did not get better. He went home to his wife, where he passed away. The movie and the TV program showed the interesting characters who came out of
the Old West. Adams, played by the handsome Dan Haggerty (who had a history of working with wild bears), was shown as a kind and gentle man working with wild animals. But the true picture of Grizzly Adams was a scruffy mountain man looking older than his years who did not use kindness to train his wild beasts. And living among wild animals had Adams looking and smelling like the animals he trained. But his story was not fiction. Grizzly Adams was truly one of the most interesting characters to live in the Wild West. Writer’s note: The artwork is from Wild West Magazine – Feb. 2010. Some information in the article also came from the magazine, which is a great resource for those who love to study the Old West.
February 2022 | great northern news 15
What is Minnesota Nice? By Rich Engstrom We hear the words Minnesota Nice both in print and on the airwaves, but do we know what that really means? As someone once said, “I can’t tell you exactly what it means, but I will know it when I see it.” We saw Minnesota Nice a few years ago, as thousands of football fans arrived in Minneapolis to be part of the Super Bowl experience. Though it was the coldest part of our winter, people walked away with a positive image of our state. People from all parts of the U.S. stood out in the cold and windy days to watch the many outdoor events taking place. The people seemed to enjoy the events, even though many stated that they had never experienced such cold weather. Minnesotans are proud of being nice. They even advertise that we are nice. My parents were snowbirds living in the Phoenix, Arizona, area. When confronted with a dust storm, all vehicles on the highways take the first driveway off the highway to find a parking lot. (It is even dangerous to pull over as the car behind you might think you are still on the highway and plow into your trunk.) Mom and dad entered a café that had started to fill up with only a cook (also the owner) and a waitress working at the time. Seeing that the workers were being overwhelmed by a full room of customers, mom and dad went to work. My mother had debilitating arthritis but still walked around cleaning off tables, while dad (with an artificial leg) worked at the cash register. They turned down getting paid but found at their doorstep the next morning
Nice a large floral arrangement and a “thank you” note for being Minnesota Nice. While acting as an assistant coach at a wrestling tournament, the referee blew his whistle during the match to indicate points given out to our wrestler’s opponent. From the other side of the mat, the opposing coach stood up and seemed to question the call. The coaches and the ref met in the center of the mat to listen to the other coach’s objections. We didn’t object to the call that gave the opponent the points, but then we realized that the opposing coach thought that the points should have been given to our wrestler. We all laughed – “I just wanted to be fair.” Minnesota Nice. Going with a friend to the local drugstore, my friend walked straight to the counter to pay for her chosen items. I told her that she broke in the line. She looked around and said, “What line?” There were people waiting, but they were not in a straight line. You will see this in stores and at the bank. People walk in and re-
alize the order they are in and everyone waits their turn. No one cuts in line – no one gets mad at the wait. (Almost no one). While working as a cook at a local restaurant, the owner’s brother came to visit with his friend. She went out to rent a movie and came back laughing. She said, “You won’t believe this. I brought a movie up to the counter to pay, but the lady just put it into a bag and said, “Thank you.” I said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?” “What?” she said. “You forgot to get paid.” “Oh,” she said, “pay when you bring it back.” “Where I come from in Florida, you pay before you take out a movie and have to put down a deposit.” A few years ago, while waiting for the café at St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester (Mayo Clinic) to open for breakfast, I met a young female who started to talk to me. We carried on a conversation for a while when suddenly she stopped and said, “I’m from Las Vegas and my boyfriend is from Minnesota. He told me that in Minnesota, people talk to each other. You know if we were in Las Vegas, you and I wouldn’t be talking to each other. My boyfriend was right; people in Minnesota are very friendly. Ken Burns is well-known and highly respected for making great documentaries for Public Television. The War (WWII), The Civil War, Baseball, and the Viet Nam War are just a few of his highly acclaimed historical documentaries. While talking about his upcoming documentary about the Mayo Clinic on a morning talk show, he talked about what made the clinic the number one clinic/hospital in the United States. With him was Tom Brokaw, re-
tired evening news reporter and author of “The Greatest Generation.” Tom, too, was asked what made the clinic one that is on the cutting edge of many medical innovations and a clinic known and sought after by people all over the world needing medical care. “For one thing,” stated Brokaw, “they are Minnesota Nice.” The documentary did show what makes the clinic number one and explained to the watcher what it means to be Minnesota Nice. Doctors are paid an annual wage and not by the number of patients they see. In the early days, they only charged the patients according to what they could pay – patients came first. My wife and I saw this when she was a patient at St. Mary’s – the main hospital of the Mayo Clinic. She got into a short argument with a pain doctor. After he left, a nurse informed my wife that she could get the doctor in trouble for getting into an argument with a patient. Mary thanked the nurse but stated she didn’t want to report him. The next morning, the head pain doctor came down to apologize for the doctor’s poor bedside manners. Patients come first – Minnesota Nice. While getting into my pickup after paying for my gas, another customer yelled at me that I had forgotten my coffee. As a retiree, I sometimes forget things, but I had a mug of coffee in the cab and didn’t buy coffee… to my knowledge. “Don’t you know that on Tuesdays the station gives out free coffee?” I thanked her with a smile and said I already had coffee, to which she replied, “Oh, then have a nice day.” Another example of Minnesota Nice.
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16 great northern news | February 2022
‘The Heavy Water War’ By Rich Engstrom
I, like many other older male baby boomers, have a fascination with World War II – either in books, TV documentaries, or on the big screen. For years, Hollywood would take an historical event and make it into a movie – a movie that usually would have many inaccuracies. But lately, there have been many good war movies that are either following the lives of real veterans – such as “Band of Brothers” and “Pacific” – or a fictional movie that is written for the big screen but is still showing a real-life situation – “Saving Private Ryan.” Looking for accurate movies on WWII, I turned to Netflix and found a few movies that I had not seen. Then I discovered a movie whose title interested me called “The Heavy Water War.” As I read that overview, I realized that I had seen the story before in a documentary. I decided to watch the movie even though
it was a Norwegian film with closed captions at the bottom. The movie was broadcasted on TV in Norway in January 2015. It is a true story about water that was heavy and needed by the Germans to build their atomic bomb. We follow Norwegian professor Leif Tronstad as he realizes what the Germans are up to and goes to England to join the secret service in an effort to stop the Germans from getting the water. We also follow, in the movie, Novel Prize winner, German Werner Heisenberg who works hard to develop atomic fusion to help his country – not really thinking about his research turning into a bomb. The English send in a small group of Norwegians who are to mark an ending zone for two gliders that are bringing in English troops who are going to take out the water plant. Both gliders crash – so the Norwegians, who are set up in a hunting cabin, wait
for reinforcements to come with the extra help and food. They struggle, waiting for other troops to parachute in and together the nine men set out to blow up that Heavy Water plant. After seeing the movie, I discovered the documentary and found that they were quite similar. In my research to find out more about the Norwegian raid, I realized that there was a Hollywood movie about the event called “The Heroes of Telemark,” starring Kirk Douglas and Richard Harris, I remember when the movie came out but could not remember much of the 1965 movie. I ordered the movie from Netflix and then compared the two movies and the documentary. In typical Hollywood fashion, there is more gunfire in their movie and Kirk Douglas and Harris do everything – plus there is a love story that doesn’t take place in the
HWW movie. If you enjoy the movies of the 60s, you will enjoy “The Heroes of Telemark.” Events like this and other military activities in Norway made Hitler keep 200,000 troops in that Scandinavian country at all times – when they could have been more effective on the continent. If you enjoy historically accurate movies, then try “The Heavy Water War.” You will get used to the closed captions and will find a movie that is easy to follow. The closed captions do not take
away from the movie. The acting is first rate, and “The Heavy Water War” is a movie that can go up against any WWII Hollywood made war movie.
Note: Heavy water (deuterium oxide, 2 H2O, D2O) is a form of water that contains a larger than normal amount of the hydrogen isotope deuterium (2H or D, also known as heavy hydrogen), rather than the common hydrogen-1 isotope (1H or H, also called protium) that makes up most of the hydrogen in normal water. The presence of deuterium gives the chemical different nuclear properties, and the increase of mass gives it different physical and chemical properties compared to normal “light water.”
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