Exclusive opportunities and professional connections
We’re proud members of AAF Black Hills and offer opportunities to attend national conferences and connect with leading professionals in the field across the US.
We provide students with access to professional studios, cutting-edge software, photography labs, and digital media production spaces. Learn with the latest tools and technologies to make your mark in the industry.
Maten er halve føda
our Creatives
Editors in Chief
Alec Butterfield
Noah Westergaard
Managing editor
Nathan Feller
Copy editor
Taylor SanFilippo
Journalists
Logan Bunney
Hayden Hill
Sierra Hopp
Ellen Sheehy
Alivia Weathers
Graphic Designers
Alec Butterfield
Hunter Davis
Rae Hanzlik
Cole Marquez
Ellen Sheehy
Noah Westergaard
Photographers
Brooke Lammle
Duncan Martin
Caleb Minor
Maralee Rischling
Sierra Hopp
Carly Smith
Contributors
Mario Rodriguez
Julia Wilson
Marika VanderWal
Advisers
Justin Bergh, PhD
Skott Chandler, MFA
Allen Morris, MFA
Desy Schoenewies, MFA
Erin Sedra, MFA
Correspondence
Ponder Magazine
1200 University St. Unit 9003 Spearfish, SD 57799
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Ponder Magazine is printed bi-annually, and is distributed free of charge all over South Dakota, Nebraska, Colorado, North Dakota, Wyoming, and Montana. While Ponder is free of charge, it costs us $3.47 to print each copy of the magazine. If you would like to offset this cost, please consider donating to Ponder.
Cover image photographed by Alec Butterfield on 4x5 film. From the feature story "Area '76" on page 52.
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About Us
Ponder Magazine was founded in the fall of 2023 by Dr. Justin Bergh, who envisioned a student-led publication that would offer something bold and thoughtful, telling the stories that need to be told from around our region. Alongside professors Skott Chandler and Allen Morris, he assembled a dedicated team of student designers, writers, and journalists ready to take on this ambitious endeavour.
Since that first release, Ponder has gone on to receive the Best of Show award and Goldy ADDYS® at the American Advertising Awards. Our second issue was awarded as the Best Magazine in the Nation at the David L. Adams Apple Awards for its excellence in student publishing, ranking Ponder first place against other Division 2 universitities across the United States. These honors are a reflection of the dedication, collaboration, and craft poured into each issue by our ever-evolving student team.
At the start of each issue, our team gathers to brainstorm the vision and goals for the stories we feature. Through collaborative discussions, we identify overarching themes, plan compelling narratives, and assign roles to bring these ideas to life. Our journalists and photographers venture across the region to conduct in-depth interviews and capture stunning visuals, while our artists and designers channel their creativity creating layouts that align with our brand vision. This dynamic process results in a cohesive publication that not only resonates with our audience but also provides valuable, hands-on experience for students at Black Hills State University.
As the only magazine of its kind in South Dakota, Ponder gives students the chance to create meaningful work with real impact, gaining skills that extend far beyond the classroom.
Illulstration by Rae Hanzlik
Letter from
I never wanted Spearfish to be my home. Growing up, I despised the 40-minute drive down the most boring interstate in the country only to walk around downtown and city park with my parents, who I also despised at the time. BHSU was a joke to me. It was a school that was chosen when there were no other options. I couldn't have been more wrong.
The drive up to Spearfish the day of my tour was just as boring as any of the other numerous trips I've taken with my parents. “You're going to love it, keep an open mind," my parents said to me. It took zero effort to tune them out and open my mind to the drive back home to Rapid.
Everything changed that day with my introduction to Skott Chandler and Allen Morris. While walking around and through the photo department I was shown the possibilities provided at BHSU and the truly caring nature of the professors. I told them my dream of becoming a cinematographer.
“The best cinematographers start as even better photographers,” Chandler said.
I think back to that tour regularly and how the rest of my career started on that day. In fact, I can pinpoint the exact moment.
“My favorite director working today is Robert Eggers, do you know Robert Eggers?” Chandler said.
The look on my face told him all he needed to know. I applied and got accepted later that same week.
Then came Ponder, an idea from Dr. Justin Bergh and pitched to me in the darkroom after a photo critique. I was brought on as a photographer for the first issue and had no idea what to expect. Little did I know, this little school magazine would consume most of my time and become an integral part of my college career.
The community Ponder fostered has taught me lessons that I will take with me for the rest of my life. There is nothing more rewarding than working together with like-minded students, forming lifelong friendships and creating a product at the end of each semester that I couldn't be more proud to put my name on.
I want to give a huge thanks to everyone who has been a part of Ponder the last year, most notably Noah Westergaard and Nathan Feller. Noah and I went to high school together, but never spoke a word to each other. The exact opposite is true now. The late nights and long hours have finally paid off.
I am forever grateful for the immense dedication put forward by everyone on staff and the truly remarkable work we have produced for Issue Three.
Justin Bergh, Skott Chandler and Allen Morris, I don’t know where I would be without the support and friendships I have formed with each of you. Thank you for believing in me and presenting opportunities like Ponder for us all. Finally, to my parents, I wouldn't be here without the love and belief you have for me. I love you both more than anything and I dedicate all the success I've had to you. Thank you, for everything.
Alec Butterfield
the editors
When I think about how far Ponder has come, I’m reminded of the people who made it possible, especially my professors: Skott, Allen, Justin and Erin. Their encouragement, insight and belief in me shape the way I think, create and lead. They challenge me to step outside of my comfort zone and give me the confidence to take creative risks. Because of them, I found my place, both at Black Hills State and in this magazine. I’m endlessly grateful to be learning from such passionate educators who don’t just teach, but empower their students to do whatever we put our minds to.
When I first enrolled at BHSU, I was still figuring out where I fit—creatively, academically and personally. I knew I loved design and photography, but I hadn’t yet found a space where those passions could thrive. That changed the day Dr. Bergh stopped by one of my classes and announced he was looking for students to help launch a new magazine. I didn’t know it at the time, but interviewing for that opportunity would shape the rest of my college experience. I landed on the design team for Ponder’s very first issue, and since then, I’ve grown from a contributor, lead designer and now Editor-in-Chief–something I never imagined when I first started my college career.
From the beginning, I’ve had the honor of working alongside incredibly talented students who laid the foundation for what Ponder is today: a nationally acclaimed, award-winning magazine born right here at Black Hills State. That same spirit of creativity and dedication lives on in our current team. Each issue is brought to life by passionate designers, photographers, writers and artists who contribute their talents in ways that are truly one-of-a-kind.
What continues to amaze me about Ponder is the sense of community it fosters. Every issue is a collaborative effort, a space where students are empowered to express themselves, take creative risks and create something that serves a purpose beyond themselves. I’m endlessly grateful to be surrounded by such driven and talented individuals.
To my parents, my biggest fans, thank you for your unwavering love, encouragement and belief in everything I do. I’m endlessly grateful to you both.
In this issue, we’ve pushed the boundaries of what Ponder can be, creatively, conceptually and culturally. While it remains the magazine you know and love, it also continues to evolve, reflecting the vibrant range of voices, identities and perspectives that define our region. We hope these features surprise you, challenge you and spark reflection or conversation. After all, that’s what Ponder is here to do.
Whether you’re flipping through Ponder for the first time or the third, I hope you love this issue as much as we do, and that you’ll continue to support us as we keep pushing forward.
MATEN ER HALVE FØDA
Story by Taylor SanFilippo
Photography by Noah Westergaard
Amid the beauty of the Black Hills, a charming little restaurant sits, offering both a cozy atmosphere and unique dishes. The fittingly named Skogen Kitchen (meaning the kitchen in the forest) is nestled in Custer, South Dakota, a town of just over 1,800.
The restaurant lays just short of Main St., right along the main highway leading into town. The cozy interior is decorated with warm, rich wood and red and teal accents. An open concept kitchen greets customers entering the establishment, and passersby can even watch the staff cook from the street.
Skogen features many different cuisines, most notably, Italian, Scandinavian and American-fusion. However, it's rotating menu also features many other cultures.
This diverse culinary combination was brought together by Joseph Raney, the head chef and owner of the establishment.
Although his successful establishment and diverse menu are a testament to his skill as a chef, the two-time nominee of the prestigious James Beard Award for “Best Chef: Midwest” began his culinary career in an unexpected and unorthodox manner.
Raney grew up in Los Angeles, California, specifically the Pasadena and Altadena area.
He initially enrolled in college as a philosophy major, but found himself trying to rationalize too many parts of existence and quickly fell out of love with the field.
“I just got burnt out being taught that reality doesn't exist,” Raney said. “Honestly, I was just walking by a culinary school in Hollywood, and thought, ‘I'm gonna give it a chance.’”
Intrigued by the culinary arts, Raney dropped out of school and enrolled in the Hollywood Kitchen Academy.
After a few hard years ingraining himself within the culinary world, Raney entered the job market looking to continue his education in the real world.
Early in his career, Raney worked under many reknowned chefs in the Los Angeles and Hollywood areas, committing a year to each restaurant in an effort to gain diverse knowledge about cooking with different techniques and cuisines.
“It took a lot of commitment and took some hard times,” Raney said. “I didn't think I was going to end up in the culinary arts. I never would have guessed that about myself as a little boy… I just kept sticking with it, even during times I just wasn't enjoying it.
No matter how much change Raney experienced while he was in culinary school and the early parts of his career in the kitchen, he never forgot the value of creating personal bonds with his coworkers and seeing them as people rather than merely a means-to-an-end. This extended to how he views his employees, even after receiving praise and recognition for his accomplishments.
“It makes me reflect on how well the team has performed,” Raney said. “I mean, it really shouldn't be ‘Best Chef: Midwest.’ It should be ‘Best Team: Midwest’ because if someone walks through the door and my staff's not on point, that's a reflection [on me].”
At the heart of this team is Raney’s wife, Eliza Raney, who has been an important part of his journey since the beginning.
The two met in Newport Beach, California, where they were both working at the time; Eliza was a server, and Joseph worked as a sous chef at the same restaurant. They started as friends, and their relationship eventually evolved into more.
After a few years, the couple decided it was time to raise a family. After spending the entirety of their relationship in a big city, they wanted a change of scenery.
“My wife is a small town girl, and she didn't want to be in the city anymore,” Raney said. “She kept reminding me that she definitely wanted to look at a small town as a long-term option and not a city… We literally found [Custer] in a random book about the Black Hills
area… It was just like, ‘My wife wants to move to a small town, so let's go find one.’”
Mrs. Raney fell in love with the small town located in the southern Black Hills.
With no fleshed-out career plans, Mr. and Mrs. Raney dropped their lives in California and moved to Custer to start the next chapter of their lives.
“It's amazing living in a small town,” Raney said. “Everybody just kind of looks out for each other. It's really cool to kind of see how the community grows over time.”
The community may have been welcoming, but the real problem was how the family was going to make ends meet.
When the Raneys first moved, there were some uncertain times they had to work through.
“I honestly thought I was going to have to change career paths again,” Raney said. “I'm a decent writer, so I even looked at the Rapid City Journal, but I was really missing cooking.”
Raney took a job at the local Sage Creek Grill to satisfy his urge to cook, which was where he met Chris Grohs.
Grohs and his family had moved from Kansas City, Missouri to Custer 30 days before the Raneys had with the same goal in mind: to raise his family away from the big city.
Not only did Grohs and Raney have similarities in their family goals, but they also both had extensive culinary knowledge.
“I started out when I was a young boy, like fourteen or fifteen years old, working in a truck stop, and I was just really good at what I did,” Grohs said. “Then when I moved to [Kansas City], it was easy for me to get a job in the culinary field, so I just kind of leaned on that and went from there.”
Grohs was able to work at many acclaimed restaurants under skilled chefs who began to teach him more about the fine dining side of the culinary arts. He found relief in the creative freedom of this aspect of the culinary world instead of the cookie-cutter molds he had been fitting his cooking into at more corporateoriented establishments.
This newfound freedom and inspiration would eventually become what led the Raneys to including Grohs in the work towards Skogen.
Grohs is now Skogen Kitchen’s Chef de Cuisine, a role in which he manages the flow of the kitchen.
Skogen opened in May of 2017, one year after the Raneys moved to Custer.
“It was definitely [Mrs. Raney’s] belief in me that really started this restaurant,” Raney said. “I don't think I had very much confidence, but she had it all for both of us... It's also really cool to see how the community has embraced the restaurant. You don't realize how much impact you have until you actually try to make an impact.”
With the restaurant open and operational, Raney and Grohs were able to unleash their creativity without limits, creating dishes that caught attention on a national scale.
Their menu became a showcase of bold innovation and refined technique, featuring creations such as a spin on a New England favorite: lobster steam buns with Holindaise sauce garnished with fresh scallions. Another dish that drew praise was their brown butter basted raviolo stuffed with a whole soft-boiled egg yolk and ricotta, topped with freshly grated parmesan and bianchetti truffle. They also impressed diners with compressed suckling pig served with beet root puree and huckleberry jus–the drippings of the pork infused with huckleberry–garnished with watercress and chopped rhubarb.
Their creativity didn’t stop at savory dishes.
One of their most popular dishes is their house-made vanilla gelato topped with parmesan, pinenuts and local honey. A seemingly strange combination dubbed “Chef’s Happy Accident” that was discovered when Raney was checking the quality of his cheeses and making gelato at the same time. He sampled some parmesan and then tried the gelato soon after, and was amazed by the resulting flavor.
While crafting such creative dishes has led to the team being nominated for national awards, that doesn’t make them immune to feelings of self-doubt. When that does happen, the team at Skogen has the Custer community to raise them up.
“Sometimes you don't feel quite appreciated enough,” Grohs said. “But when you go out in the community and you're recognized, and everybody's like, ‘I had a great dinner, thank you so much,’ It really boosts your self-worth… [Working at Skogen] is more than just a job for me. It’s my family.”
Skogen has established itself well within the zeitgeist of Custer, South Dakota. The restaurant continues to manifest a family-like community and an attitude that keeps its business looking towards the future.
At the center of Skogen’s forward-thinking mindset is a strong trust in the people who help bring its vision to life every day. Raney and Grohs have built more than just a kitchen staff, they’ve created a team rooted in mutual respect and shared responsibility.
“When you trust people, they cover your back,” Raney said. “They cover the dark shadows of things that you're not particularly good at. So, when you give people that responsibility, it's amazing how much they answer that in return. That’s what I’ve been able to find in my team.”
The Secret Ingredient
Story and
Photography
by Noah Westergaard
From a tiny home kitchen to the pages of The New York Times, The Sour is more than a bakery, it’s a testament to faith, family and community.
Peter and Makenzie Mitchell are the proud owners of The Sour, a bustling hub located in the heart of downtown Rapid City. What is now a vibrant, full-scale café is years in the making. Before opening their downtown location, the Mitchells operated out of a commercial kitchen, and before that, they baked loaves in their family home.
“I've just always been very interested in food,” Peter said. “I happened upon a sourdough starter from someone in a Facebook group and then just started using it to make pizzas and bread and everything else.”
The couple spent the early years of their marriage traveling. Before settling in Rapid City, they served as missionaries, living in New York City, South Africa and Hawaii, before eventually settling in California. But in 2016, after a business restructuring left Peter without a job, the two began to consider a move to a more affordable location.
“Well, do we try to find something else?" Peter said. "Ultimately, we decided to move out here [Rapid City] because I have family out here, and it was much, much cheaper at the time to live out here."
Their decision to relocate wasn’t made lightly, it came after a period of uncertainty and reflection. With Peter suddenly out of work and the high cost of living in California weighing heavily on them, the couple began to weigh their options. They needed a fresh start. That’s when Rapid City entered the conversation.
“It was like a breath of fresh air, we could actually afford to live, coming from California,” Makenzie said.
After the move, Peter worked in corrections at a juvenile detention center, while Makenzie took a job at a veterinary office. The two rarely saw each other and found it difficult to spend time with their children. That changed during the pandemic.
“At that point, we had very little time for our family because we were both working during the pandemic, and so we rarely saw each other,” Makenzie said.
Looking for a way to spend more time together, they decided
to turn Peter’s passion for baking into a business. In 2021, they launched The Sour out of their home, baking just 10 loaves a week. What started as a side hustle quickly gained traction.
“At one point, we were leaving on vacation, and we had to cut off our pre orders, but it was like two months out," Makenzie said. "We were like, ‘What is this? How? Why are people willing to wait two months to get bread?’”
The response was overwhelming. The Sour’s success allowed both Peter and Makenzie to leave their jobs and pursue baking full-time. Makenzie worked until 11 p.m., while Peter began baking at 2 a.m., becoming a round-the-clock operation.
Within a year, demand had outgrown their home kitchen. They needed more space and staff. On Mother’s Day weekend in 2022, the two opened a commercial kitchen and began to see the potential of the community they were building.
“It was fun because we always got to connect with people, watching our small mom-and-pop shop bring people together,” Makenzie said.
The commercial space allowed them to begin wholeselling to local restaurants seeking fresh, handmade products rather than food supplier staples.
“We’re the only bakery in this area that even makes its own pastry, we make our own dough, our own butter blocks, we laminate our own pastry dough,” Peter said. “We don’t even use commercial baking yeast in any of our products.”
Peter uses only natural fermentation methods, a slower, more traditional process that yields complex flavor and texture. While many bakeries rely on commercial yeast, Peter is dedicated to what he calls “a return to basics.”
“It’s the way humans have made bread forever up until the invention of commercial yeasts,” Peter said. “It’s going to take more than twenty four hours to get your bread mixed, shaped, fermented and baked. You’re on a different timetable.”
That commitment to craftsmanship has contributed to The Sour’s success, but it hasn’t come without challenges. Even in their commercial kitchen, the Mitchells faced space and staffing issues.
“Bakeries are notoriously very spacedependent,” Peter said. “You need a lot of refrigeration, your ovens are large, your mixers are large. And when everything’s hand-cut, hand-shaped, it’s more people, more space.”
They still use their original location to meet demand. Staffing has also been an ongoing challenge, especially during national labor shortages.
“Everyone in food service goes through staffing issues,” Peter said.
“When you have more demand, you need more people, and you're always hard-pressed to find people who want to work in a café.”
Despite those obstacles, The Sour has continued to rise, quite literally. In June 2024, the Mitchells opened a downtown café, a warm and welcoming space that reflects everything they’ve built.
Previously confined to a small storefront with only standing room, Peter and Makenzie dreamed of a space where customers could relax, connect and enjoy a pastry or cup of coffee. The downtown location, with sunlight streaming through large windows and plants lining the sills, brought that dream to life.
Everything in the space reflects their values: bread as a conversation starter, a source of joy and a reminder to live more slowly and intentionally
The downtown café also allowed them to expand their offerings. The menu now features rotating weekly specials, take-and-bake options, coffee drinks and crowd favorites like cinnamon rolls, morning buns and jalapeño cheddar bagels.
“Our kids are obsessed with the bagels,” Makenzie said.
Peter's favorite item on the menu is typically the newest thing.
“Right now, we’re getting ready to do a strawberry rhubarb hand pie,” Peter said. “It’s really good.”
As for what the community loves, Peter said the demand constantly shifts.
“There was a while there where we couldn't make enough ham and cheese croissants," Peter said. "We were selling out by 9 a.m. every day, now everyone's back on a cinnamon roll kick, the kouign-amann are really popular as well.”
The summer is expected to bring a new wave of excitement following the bakery’s recent national recognition. On Christmas
Eve, Peter was surprised to receive emails from people across the country asking to order bread after spotting The Sour in The New York Times.
The Sour was named one of the 22 best bakeries in the country. A recognition that took owners Peter and Mackenzie Mitchell completely by surprise. A freelance journalist had interviewed Peter in November, presenting the conversation as a general inquiry into bakery life. She never revealed the true purpose of her research.
The Mitchells only discovered themselves on the list when inquiries started pouring in on Christmas morning. Peter, who was initially told the interview might not even be published, was initially skeptical. To his surprise, The Sour was not just mentioned once, but featured in two separate pieces, one highlighting the experiences of bakery owners and another listing the top 22 bakeries in the nation.
The recognition brought a surge of attention to their small Rapid City bakery, drawing interest from food lovers across South Dakota and beyond.
“We weren’t seeking or looking to get featured,” Peter said. “We were just trying to make good bread and pastries for our community. That was our goal.”
As The Sour continues to grow, what remains at the center of their story is a deep-rooted commitment to faith, family and community. From a few loaves in their home kitchen to national acclaim, the Mitchells have built more than a bakery. They’ve created a space filled with intention, creativity and warmth, a place where good bread brings people together.
And perhaps, that’s the secret ingredient after all.
いただきます
STORY BY TAYLOR SANFILIPPO
PHOTOGRAPHY BY ALEC BUTTERFIELD
Omakase, a Japanese phrase meaning, “I’ll leave it up to you,” is a dining method that allows chefs to serve patrons whatever they want without the hassle of taking orders. This method also allows chefs to showcase techniques they specialize in while giving patrons a curated menu that may go along with seasonal trends or themes utilizing the freshest ingredients available.
At Izakaya Three Fish, an unassuming restaurant nestled in the heart of Bozeman, Montana, the omakase experience is taken to a new level. The restaurant, which prides itself on serving high-quality seafood and experiences, embraces this approach as a way to offer customers something more intimate and personal. The restaurant is run by Head Chef Paul Naugle and Bar Manager Maddi Honnold. The two founded the restaurant together and co-own it to this day.
“Getting the fish here is mainly what made us do omakase because it's so difficult to write a menu and offer a bunch of different varieties that stay at the quality and freshness that we want,” Naugle said. “What we have is what we’re offering, as opposed to, ‘This is what we have, and you can order it,’ especially when there's a lot of ingredients people aren't familiar with.”
While omakase dining originated in the Edo period of Japan (1603-1868), it underwent a massive wave of popularity in the 1990s. This unique style of dining has endured to the present day and is what gives Izakaya Three Fish its signature dining experience.
“When we first started, I had a sushi case,” Naugle said. “I'd put all different kinds of stuff in there, and people would come in and order salmon, tuna and hamachi. It would have all this other awesome seafood, and people just didn't know about it enough to order it. What I want is to show [customers] stuff that they wouldn't think of.”
This desire to help expand customers’ palates gave Izakaya a direction – a direction hard won through years of relationship building and mutual trust.
“We’ve been using the same vendor for years,” Naugle said. “When you have a rep that you've been working with for ten-plus years, that definitely helps a lot. This might sound a little bit weird, but a lot of Japanese fish purveyors don't really want to send their really, really fine, high-quality stuff to people who don't speak Japanese and who aren't appreciating the product. I put good fish orders together, and I think they learned that I understand what I’m doing because of that.”
Whether it’s the years of trust with a Japanese fish purveyor or the creative freedom in crafting an omakase experience, Paul and his co-owner both find a deep appreciation for quality and expertise that enhances the customers’ experience.
“I think [omakase] was kind of our natural trajectory,” Honnold said. “Now, instead of people ordering all the same things, they get these super off-the-cuff, quick, in-your-face, amazing bites.”
A SMALL START FOR A SPECIAL SUSHI SPOT
In 2011, Honnold came to Bozeman for college, studying sustainable crop production and plant science. Shortly after, Naugle made his way to Bozeman after growing up in Pennsylvania and eventually moving to Tahoe. One of Naugle’s friends went to college in Bozeman, and when he came to visit him, he loved the outdoorsy culture of the community. He decided to move to Bozeman and
begin the next chapter of his life.
While in Bozeman, Naugle began working at the Montana Fish Company under a master who taught him to make sushi. It was at a small sushi counter in the market where he met Honnold.
They soon became close friends and moved to Oregon together to work at a Steelhead fishing lodge in the area. Honnold became interested in bartending around this time and began to learn more about the craft in Oregon.
With many great opportunities surrounding her, Honnold took classes from Rick Visser, a local culinary artist who focused on melding nature with the culinary arts. He specialized in foraging and buying local ingredients. It was with Visser that she learned to work with seasonal, locally-sourced ingredients and form them into fresh, exclusive cocktails.
During this period, the idea for Izakaya Three Fish was born. Paul would become Head Chef, and Maddi would manage the bar with her newly acquired skills.
The two, along with another business partner, Lance, loaded a truck full of all of the exclusive Japanese equipment and materials
they could get their hands on so close to the coast and drove back to Bozeman to begin their journey as business owners.
They had secured a $70 thousand loan, and they intended to make the most of it. Honnold, Naugle and Lance found a location and opened the first iteration of Izakaya Three Fish as a private event and catering service.
“We ran out of money instantly,” Naugle said. “It was really tight there for a long time.”
The challenges of opening a new business hit the aspiring entrepreneurs hard. Managing budgets, finding clients and customers and having to deal with their partner, Lance, leaving the business provided trying times for Honnold and Naugle.
The pair pressed on, however, eventually securing a new location in a building called The Bozeman on Main St., a location that hosted many other food establishments and bars. The perks of this new location included a building-wide liquor license, which helped them along in their venture.
“[Acquiring a liquor license] is hard in Montana because the liquor licensing laws are pretty exclusionary to small businesses and exclusionary towards sourcing small, niche products,” Honnold said. “Whatever we can get our hands on is what we're able to serve. It's been a crazy learning experience. I joke that the Montana Tavern Association is like a legal version of the mafia because of how difficult it is sometimes.”
Though the path was littered with obstacles, Honnold and Naugle were finally able to open Izakaya Three Fish in its current form in February of 2018 on Valentine’s Day.
Although the two were excited to finally open their dream business, their struggle for success was far from over.
Shortly after the pair established a menu, the COVID-19 pandemic forced a shutdown through 2020. This was a challenge that many other small business owners were also fighting through at the time.
“We did take out for a little bit, and then it morphed into small private parties,” Honnold said. “So basically, [customers] would rent out the whole Omakase seating, six to ten people. It would just be individual groups, so we were still within safety regulations for the time. That’s kind of where we really leaned into the omakase.”
However, the private parties and takeout orders did not last long. As the regulations related to the pandemic shut down more and more activities and businesses, Izakaya eventually followed suit.
“We had the ability to make more off of unemployment than off of the business,” Naugle said. “There wasn’t much of a point to stay open, and after the stress, we needed a break, so we went to Roseburg, Oregon. We fished for the rest of the lockdown.”
While fishing and back in Oregon, Honnold and Naugle reworked the concept of Izakaya for re-opening, and once the lockdown ended, the pair went back to Bozeman and focused on shifting to the omakase business model they have maintained to this day.
UNPACKING THE EXPERIENCE
The meal consisted of 10 courses, including dessert, and began with a punch in the face that would immediately grab anyone’s attention.
Naugle started the meal with olive flounder nigiri, doused with fresh lemon juice and maldon salt sprinkled on top. The tartness of the lemon, contrasted with flaky salt, awakened the senses and made sure everyone was ready for the meal to begin. The delicate flounder gave a nice rounded sweetness to the bite.
He then immediately moved on to the next course, which was raw Nantucket oysters on the half shell served in yuzu vinegar with a dot of sriracha on the rim of the shell. This was a bold, cold bite that, while still invigorating, helped mellow the senses and coast nicely into the next course.
The third course was a Japanese red snapper nigiri with white soy. This was an earthy bite where the deeper flavor of the white soy helped bring out the bright tones of the snapper.
Naugle then ushered out the fourth course, Motoyaki oysters baked with miso sauce and freshly torched, smoked cheddar cheese on top. These oysters had a warm, comfort-food element to them. They were delicious and a nice change of pace from the punchy, refreshing bites that had set the tone for the meal.
Naugle then brought out a Japanese amberjack nigiri served simply with soy sauce. This piece harkened back to his comments on some of the most popular rolls he used to serve when Izakaya offered a full menu. He proved that this fish is a classic for a reason.
After a short pause, Naugle resumed the meal with an experimental blend. Dungeness crab and raw scallops served on a fried wonton along with sliced serrano peppers, avocado and slivered red onion. The crab brought a rich, sweet aspect to the dish, while the scallops allowed for some texture and fresh seafood taste
while maintaining the sweeter notes.
The wonton contributed a fun, crunchy element, and the serrano peppers added some kick and additional crunch to the bite. The use of avocado brought some fat to the palate, and the onions gave more depth to the flavor and added a sweet tang to the end of the bite.
Naugle then went for an intense flavor profile, serving a smoked trout roe maki. The smoke from the trout roe briefly overwhelmed the senses, revitalizing anyone who may have become complacent at this point in the meal. The saltiness of the roll and nori, paired with the intense smoky flavor of the roll, gave a hardy, savory bite.
Naugle then served another classic: tuna. However, he wanted to highlight one of his favorite parts of the tuna. Toro, which is the belly fat of a tuna, brings a rich, fatty element to dishes. This toro was served as nigiri with no elements other than the rice, fish and soy sauce. He served it with freshly grated wasabi, and with a dash of that on top, the bite came alive. The saltiness from the soy sauce highlighted the fatty nature of the fish.
For our last savory course, we were served miso soup with dungeness crab and matsutake mushrooms. A lovely twist on a classic miso soup, the dungeness crab contributed sweetness to the umami of the soup, and the mushrooms were earthy, had a snappy texture and weren’t overcooked. This course was immensely filling and made sure that if anyone wasn’t full from the last eight courses, no one would leave hungry.
For the final course, we were given dessert, a housemade vanilla bean ice cream garnished with olive oil and Maldon flake salt. This salt is interesting as it’s prized for its pyramid-shaped crystals and is exclusively harvested in England. It has a very smooth taste and provided a nice crunchy texture to the ice cream. The olive oil was earthy and complimented the floral nature of the vanilla. The whole dessert together was a nice ending to the meal, showing that even with dessert, Naugle can give a patron a strong but well-rounded dish.
During the meal, Honnold served customers a number of diverse and original beverages. One of these concoctions was a mocktail called the Matcha Mamma, a drink with ceremonial grade matcha, whisked at the counter, mixed with seltzer water and Aperitivo bitters.
The drink had delicate floral notes from the matcha, nicely opened up and properly brewed, and the bitters gave a nice splash of color and a citrus undertone that gave the drink a refreshing crispness.
Throughout the meal, Naugle, Honnold and their other employees focused on the human connection of food as well. They kept the conversation flowing, and with how amicable and natural everything felt, it was as if they knew everyone at the bar for years and were merely catching up with old friends over dinner.
The team at Izakaya Three Fish, working through the trials and tribulations of business ownership in the town of Bozeman, Naugle and Honnold have carved their place with impressive bites, striking beverages and world-class attitudes.
story by Nathan Feller photography by ALEC BUTTERFIELD & caleb minor
“When you’re going days without any contact, you break a little bit. It’s a mental game when you’re dealing with shitty weather and nothing’s going right. It tests you in a way that there’s nothing to do but just get through it. In the end, I feel like it shows you what you can persist through.”
Bob Lackner, also known as Bicycle Bob, has lived his life to the fullest – combining two of his greatest passions to create not only a successful career as an artist, but a fulfilling and adventureridden life.
Born and raised in Long Island, New York, Lackner always had a proclivity for art. Growing up, he never tired of his artistic hobbies – they simply made him happy, and that was enough.
“I always kept myself busy with artwork and drawing, even at a young age,” Lackner said. “I feel like if my parents wanted to keep me content and quiet, they would just give me paper, pencils and crayons and just let me do my own thing.”
As he grew older, Lackner's strong sense of adventure and even stronger rebelliousness drove him to a hangout spot few parents want their child to frequent.
“I grew up around the corner from a tattoo shop on Long Island that was pretty well known at the time,” Lackner said.
Peter Tat-2, established in 1969, was the epitome of the stereotypical biker gang scene, much like many other tattoo parlors at the time. In the 1980s, a tattoo was a mark for rebels, counterculture enthusiasts and nonconformists.
“That’s what kind of sparked my interest in what tattooing was and the whole culture of it,” Lackner said.
Lackner found himself drawn to the shop and everything it stood for. He would often sneak inside just to catch a glimpse of the artists working away on various pieces, each one as unique as both the artist and the recipient.
“Those guys that worked there were pretty cool,” Lackner said. “Sometimes they would let us come in and they would put stencils on us. They would also check out my artwork, and they were very supportive of it. But it was definitely not a place for kids to be hanging out, so after about five to ten minutes, they would tell us to kick rocks and hit the road.”
As Lackner grew up, his interest in the tattoo community
dimmed slightly. By the time he graduated from high school, the idea of becoming a tattoo artist was a distant thought and he found himself with little direction in life. His main hobbies included smoking weed and keeping his nose buried in his sketchbook.
“My parents were definitely not stoked when I became a tattoo artist, but, in a weird twist, it was kind of my mom’s idea for me to get my first tattooing job,” Lackner said. “So I got into tattooing in a kind of unusual way.”
He had next to nothing going on in his life. Though he was enrolled in school locally, Lackner had no plan, no goals and no idea of what he was going to do with his life.
“I was going to night school and college, but really I was just wasting time,” Lackner said. “I would get a job for a couple of months, save up some money, and then quit and just hang out on the couch and do nothing. I was kind of a bum.”
During these stints of unemployment and stagnation, Lackner’s mother would venture out into the job market, looking for something to revive her couch-ridden son. From flipping burgers to pharmacy work, anything was on the table so long as it came with a paycheck.
“That same tattoo shop I used to visit as a kid was looking for an apprentice, and my mom kind of mentioned it to me as a part-time ‘just get off the couch and do something with yourself’ sort of deal,” Lackner said.
Intrigued by the idea, Lackner entertained his mother’s idea. However, he held some reservations about just what he was getting himself into.
“I didn’t think tattooing would be feasible,” Lackner said. “The pressure of doing something permanent on somebody else was too great, and I didn’t think I would want anything to do with that. But my mom planted this little seed. The next thing I knew, I was in the shop showing my drawings, and I ended up getting an apprenticeship.”
What initially began as a mother’s desperate attempt to get her idle son out of the house turned into not only a fulltime job, but the first step into a whole new life for Lackner.
After earning an apprenticeship with the Peter Tat-2 Association in 1997, Lackner began working under Erik Desmond, a renowned tattoo artist and owner of his own shop, Loyalty Tattoo, in Babylon, New York. Shortly after that, Lackner was promoted to a full-time tattoo artist.
“My parents weren’t the most stoked,” Lackner said. “It was the late nineties, so tattooing still hadn’t blown up yet. But once I started to get on my feet, and get my own apartment and start paying my own bills through tattooing, I think it changed their outlook on my career.”
Despite this newfound respect from his parents, the general public still found Lackner’s chosen career unsavory.
“When I started tattooing, tattoo artists were on the outskirts of society,” Lackner said. “It was still a cool profession, but it wasn’t as accepted as it is today. You kind of had to not care what other people thought. I think with modern-day tattooing, shops just have nicer, more creative environments. There was good tattooing back then, but it was more on the tradesman aspect.”
Around the early 2000s, the tattoo industry began to take a turn toward the more artistic side. New tattoo artists began to enter shops with art degrees and different ideas that began to change the tattoo community as well as society’s views on the rebellious medium.
“The part of me that was attracted to the rebelliousness of tattooing back then definitely misses the old culture,” Lackner said. “But I think tattooing has grown in a really positive direction. There are a lot more shops and a lot more people getting tattoos, so it worked out.”
Once his stint working for Desmond concluded, Lackner began taking what are commonly known as guest spots. Essentially, he became an independent contractor and would move from shop to
shop for brief periods of time to fill empty slots or help out if a shop got too busy.
For a while, Lackner remained local, taking guest spots in tattoo shops nearby. However, his trips soon became far more extensive.
“My first big trip was to go out to Hawaii to help a friend-of-afriend,” Lackner said. “I went out to Maui for a month just to do tattoos. That’s what really started my interest in travelling.”
Infected with the travel bug, Lackner began travelling all over the world to work at various tattoo shops and parlors.
Some of his more notable destinations include Argentina, Canada, Australia, New Zealand and China.
Although his various adventures and the global demand for his talent are impressive to many within the tattoo community, they are not what earned Lackner the nickname Bicycle Bob.
“When I was in my late twenties and still living in New York, I was dating this girl and she told me once how her uncle had ridden a bicycle across America in the eighties,” Lackner said. “I’d never heard of anybody doing that and it kind of blew my mind. Within ten seconds I was like, ‘Well fuck, that just went on my bucket list.’ Since then the idea had always stuck with me.”
Time passed, and his 30th birthday came and went. Lackner had yet to traverse the country on a bike.
“I moved out to Colorado in 2006, and I was living down in Durango,” Lackner said. “When I turned thirty, I started running my mouth that I was going to ride a bicycle across America for my fortieth birthday. I didn’t even own a bicycle.”
Although Lackner had little to no experience on a bicycle – let alone any sort of background in sports or athletics – the overall outdoorsy lifestyle of the area began to grow on him. Soon, Lackner found himself taking the new lifestyle for a test ride.
“When I was closer to my mid-thirties, I started getting into some road biking stuff,” Lackner said. “I got addicted to it pretty quick, and, within the first month, I found myself pushing hundred-mile rides. I loved going out every morning and the freedom of being able to explore on a bicycle. It felt like being a kid again.”
Rejuvenated by his new hobby, Lackner kept peddling, mile after mile, never losing focus on that one bucket list item conceived in his home city.
As the four-decade mark on his life arrived, Lackner put his money where his mouth was.
“As I turned forty, I had no idea what I was doing,” Lackner said. “I just bought a touring bike, shipped it out to San Francisco and flew out there. I woke up one morning, and it was just time to go to New York.”
Lackner set off on his nearly 4,000-mile voyage with no thoughts on his mind other than to reach point B. But, as the days passed and the miles faded, he began exploring within himself during the countless hours of solitude.
“At the time, I was a little burnt out on tattooing, and I was questioning if I still wanted to be a part of it,” Lackner said. “I guess what I was going through could be considered a midlife crisis. I didn’t know what my relationship or my future in tattooing looked like. I felt like I was missing out on other aspects of life because I was so dedicated to my career, and I felt like that trip was my one chance to step back from it and think about if I wanted to tattoo anymore or not.”
For the majority of his 45-day journey, Lackner felt confident he had dedicated enough of his life to the art of tattooing, and when he reached New York, he would find something new.
“I was riding on such a high of not knowing what was over the horizon every day, and I was convinced that I was going to quit tattooing,” Lackner said. “I was going to sell off everything I own and just ride around the country on my bicycle. I was willing to dumpster dive if it came to it.”
However, as he approached the finish line, Lackner was unable to quiet his mind.
He grew uneasy with his commitment to a life of cycling and dumpster diving.
“Probably on the last third of that trip, I came to terms with just how much tattooing means to me, and that, if I quit, I would be devastated,” Lackner said. “I realized I just need to find a balance. I didn’t have to be so all or nothing.”
After completing one of the most important rides of his life and finally checking it off his bucket list, Lackner returned to his home in Durango with renewed faith in his career and a new outlook on life – an outlook that would change him forever.
“It hit me pretty quick,” Lackner said. “I’ve tattooed around the country, and I’ve ridden a bike across the country – I should just combine the two.”
And so Lackner did in fact start selling off everything he owned, which took nearly a year. Once he was ready, he packed his supplies, hopped on his bike and left town.
“I just started going around the country with the intent of visiting all fifty states, and I just started tattooing along the way,” Lackner said.
Over the three years Lackner spent on the road, he visited 34 states, travelled around 18,000 miles and gained so much traction as the cycling, tattooing hobo he became famous throughout the tattooing community as Bicycle Bob.
In 2019, after around 1,000 days of living on his bike, Lackner decided it was a good time for a little break from both the bike and the ink.
“I went to Southeast Asia from December 2019 to March
2020, and I was just backpacking,” Lackner said. “I wasn’t tattooing and I wasn’t doing bicycle stuff, I was just resting and regrouping.”
After a few months of rest and relaxation, Lackner returned to the States, ready to pick up where he left off with his tattoo tour.
“I had twelve cities lined up over the course of fourteen weeks for that spring,” Lackner said. “I flew into New York, and I actually left within a few days of that huge outbreak in New York City.”
Almost immediately, Lackner’s plans to continue his work as Bicycle Bob disappeared under the shadow of the COVID-19 pandemic, and he was forced to try to outrun citywide lockdowns in an attempt to keep his career afloat.
“I was tattooing in Maryland when I started hearing whispers of the lockdowns,” Lackner said. “I didn’t know what I was going to do. I couldn’t go back to New York because some of the shops I had lined up were already shutting down. Luckily, I had some tattoo friends in Kentucky who let me come stay with them for a while.”
As the worst of the pandemic began to pass and shops and parlors began to reopen, Lackner intended to get back on his bike and get back on track. However, with the COVID-19 fear still looming over highly populated areas, he felt that the time might not be right to start popping into shops and asking for work.
“I ended up going back to Durango for a year,” Lackner said. “But I had this feeling that I had already been there and done that.”
During that time, Lackner struggled with readjusting to a more stationary lifestyle. He missed the freedom of being on the road.
“It was a trip,” Lackner said. “In three years on the road, I didn’t spend more than five or six days in one spot. Then I was forced to stop because of COVID, and I went through this crazy stagnant feeling. I had only been back in Durango for around a month.”
Desperate for a solution to his emotional turmoil, he reached out to a friend of his – a fellow tattoo artist – who lived a very similar lifestyle in the hope that he could provide some insight into what Lackner was feeling.
“Dave spent three years on the road himself,” Lackner said. “He put all his stuff in storage and he tattooed all through America and over in Europe before he ended up back in Denver. I called him to get his advice about what I was going through, and he knew exactly what I was talking about. He told me if I needed to get out of town, I could come up to Denver and visit.”
Lackner started travelling to Denver for periods of time to do guest spots and spend time with his friend at Til Death Tattoo.
“I was known to come through Denver on a regular basis to tattoo, and I’ve always been busy here,” Lackner said. “Eventually, it just made more sense for me to move up here. I have a lot of clients that travel and fly in to get tattoos, and Denver airport is a central hub so it's easier for them to fly in for a quick tattoo and fly out. Denver is like a big small-town with everything a city has to offer, so it's perfect for me.”
Lackner continues to work at Til Death and has become more adjusted to a lifestyle off the road.
“I got up to Denver, and everything started to feel a little bit normal again,” Lackner said. “It felt right, so I figured I would nest here for a while, and now I have an apartment with cool stuff, a bed and daily showers. I feel like I’m spoiled.”
Although Lackner has given up life on the bike for the time being, he still plans to travel, continue to meet other artists and experience new things.
“I think this year I’m going to focus on hitting the road and working with a lot more artists that I’ve looked up to over the years,” Lackner said. “As much as I like Denver, if there’s a situation where I can get creative inspiration and work alongside people that I’m going to grow with, I’ll always be open to it. But, for now, I really like being in Denver. I’ll never say never, though, maybe one of these days I might get back on the bicycle.”
The Golden Paint Brush
Story by Sierra Hopp
Photography by Sierra Hopp and Maralee Rischling
Every year, over 4,000 children are diagnosed with a brain or spinal cord tumor. A brain tumor is a cell growth that occurs in or around the brain, causing extra pressure in this closed space.
Due to their location, certain pediatric brain tumors and the treatments needed for them can lead to severe long-term effects on intellectual and neurological function and can potentially lead to death.
Many children who develop these tumors are not expected to survive for long, let alone experience any form of normalcy in their lives.
Paige Severson, however, is now a professional artist in Rapid City, South Dakota, who has exceeded expectations.
For Paige, hospital visits started at the age of two. Her neck wouldn’t stop hurting, and Paige’s parents, Tammy and Clayton Severson, knew something was wrong. After a trip to the hospital, a C.T. scan revealed an alarming image for any parent. A tumor had developed in Paige’s brain.
“It was devastating,” Tammy said.
There is a lot of extra financial burden, emotional stress and uncertainty involved for parents supporting a child with a disability. Tammy and Clayton were scared. They had no idea what they were going to do or what to expect going forward.
That same day, Paige was flown to the University of Minnesota Medical Center from Rapid City, where she and her mother would remain for nearly two weeks until Paige was scheduled for surgery to remove the tumor. The surgeons removed all that they could, but some of the cystic cells remained.
“We left there having to give a two-year-old a lot of medications,” Tammy said. “It was a challenge.”
Although they didn’t know it yet, going to Minneapolis would become a routine commute for them for the next 15 years. Paige underwent multiple surgeries and had an aneurysm that led to some strokes. The aneurysm happened when Paige was in her late teens, most likely the result of a previous treatment.
There were many ups and downs, and it grew tiresome and disappointing for Paige and her family after receiving the wrong news year after year.
“It scared me to death,” Paige said.
Her family was uncertain whether the hospital visits would ever stop. Dread consumed Paige each time she had to make the long, eight-hour drive to the medical center, leaving behind her dog, Sadie.
But at twenty years old, Paige’s doctors decided to try an off-label treatment for her tumor. She was required to take a shot every week for about a year. Paige’s family knew from experience that they were going to have to keep an eye on it – this wasn’t the first time they’d tried a new treatment for their daughter. But on their last visit to Minneapolis, they were finally given the news they had been desperately awaiting for 18 years.
The doctors told Paige that there was finally no need for her to return. She had been stable for a year, which meant the off-label treatment was a success.
Although the Seversons were relieved that Paige had received the all-clear from her doctors, they grew uncertain about what would come next after nearly two decades of the same routine.
“It was wonderful and yet frightening to give up that link to the University of Minnesota,” Tammy said.
But Paige was ready to give that link up. She never wanted to return to Minneapolis again.
“I’m glad I’m not there anymore. I hate being in the hospital,” Paige said.
Fortunately, over the last decade, her wish was granted. During that time, Paige began to discover her new, more certain life.
Since her last visit to Minneapolis, Paige has received support from Black Hills Works, an organization that supports adults with disabilities. She initially received brain injury support from that organization, and the staff there connected her with the Suzie Cappa Art Center, also part of Black Hills Works. The Suzie Cappa Art Center allows Black Hills Works participants like Paige to find genuine careers in the arts rather than just hobbies.
“Black Hills Works does have things for those who just want to do something fun on a random day,” said Haley Friedt, the studio manager at the Suzie Cappa Art Center. “Suzie Cappa Art Center is more for people who want to grow their skills as a professional artist.”
The Suzie Cappa Art Center is an incredibly unique place, with a palpable sense of community, promoting inclusivity, creativity and connection to Rapid City and the surrounding area.
When walking into the art center, visitors are greeted by the artists working at their stations, the homemade art pieces are being displayed and the big, open gallery floods natural light into your right.
“I can’t tell you how many times people come in and just say, ‘This is my happy place. This is where I come when I need a break from having a bad day,’” Haley said.
The Suzie Cappa Art Gallery was founded in 2001 and currently hosts 29 artists – 11 of whom work full-time. The artists create art ranging from paintings to ceramics and nearly everything in between.
“I think it’s just a really good example that anybody, of any ability, can create,” Haley said.
And Paige definitely can.
Realizing her talent, Paige has worked as a commissioned artist at the Suzie Cappa Art Center for around eight years now. Specializing in sewing, she particularly enjoys creating and selling “Mug Rugs,” also known as coasters, with unique, intricate details and bright colors.
“I guess I’ve always wanted to be a business person myself,” Paige said.
To start her process, she picks out which fabric she wants to use, cutting it up into small pieces, placing the pieces in an abstract way and then sewing them into one big piece of fabric. Once Paige does this, she then works diligently to sew serpentine designs across the entire front fabric collage.
Paige then cuts her creation into circles, placing the design on top of layers of fabric and a base layer to create the thickness she wants. After sewing everything together, she gives it a final touch with her favorite designs. She loves mushrooms, foxes and owls, which are also created using bright, patterned fabric that she chooses specifically to match the color theme of each coaster.
“I just see it, and I just visualize it and then I’m doing it as I go,” Paige said.
This year, Paige was selected as Suzie Cappa’s Artist of the Year, an award that was originally given to Suzie Cappa in 2002, the namesake of the art center, five years after her passing. Suzie was an incredible artist who also had a disability. Suzie’s mom and family wanted to provide a supportive and inspiring place for other artists with disabilities to create and sell their art.
The award has been given out every year since then to award an artist who has shown progress in skill, talent and willingness to consider new techniques.
What also goes into consideration is work ethic – arriving at work on time, encouraging colleagues and setting a good example for the other artists that work there.
“I was scared, and I was excited, and I was kind of freaking out,” Paige said.
Paige earned the Golden Paintbrush, a trophy that the Artist of the Year gets for the entire year. When Paige was awarded this, it was a complete surprise to her. The last Artist of the Year, Colleen, was reluctant to give the paintbrush up, but Paige assured her friend that she would share.
Sewing comes naturally to Paige, despite the fact that she didn’t know how to use a sewing machine until she started working at The Sewing Center in Rapid City, which was around the same time she started working at the Suzie Cappa Art Center. Paige took a few sewing classes at The Sewing Center, became immersed in threads and fabrics and then found her stride at the Suzie Cappa Art Center.
“She just really took a liking to it, which is my favorite thing to see,” Haley said. “It’s cool when you finally see [the artists] get to the point where they’ve found the medium that works for them.”
Paige’s talent is impressive to many, but what stands out to everyone who has met Paige is her compassion.
“One thing that I absolutely love about Paige, and that I will tell everybody, is she’s so genuinely thoughtful and kind,” Haley said. “If something’s going on in your life, a birthday, a celebratory thing, if something sad is happening, whatever it is, Paige is aware, and she ensures that you’re thought of.”
Paige’s thoughtfulness is clearly seen in her work as well. Paige is continually thinking about who would enjoy the coaster she is making.
She lights up when she sees a fabric that speaks to her by being especially sparkly or bright. A lightbulb appears above her head when she has an idea for her work, often saying how pretty something looks or how perfect it is.
Inspiration comes easily for Paige; the colors of fabrics she gets to choose from speak to her in ways only an artist can understand. This helps her avoid artists' block, but she also has another technique that helps her get inspiration and keep her focused.
“I like to listen to [music] here because it helps me concentrate,” Paige said.
She often listens to “Best Day of My Life” by American Authors, thumping her foot to the beat while creating her art. Anyone who knows Paige knows that she embodies the definition of optimism. At her workstation in the art center, upbeat pop music can often be heard emanating from her headphones.
Paige says she listens to “Best Day of My Life” at least 50 times a day. It’s also the first thing she hears when she wakes up in the morning. What she loves about that song is that her friend Tanner listens to it too.
Paige met Tanner in middle school, and they both attended the 19-21 program, a program that helped individuals with disabilities learn more life skills after high school. Tanner was the one who got Paige through the hard times when she was growing up and having to go to Minneapolis. Tanner doesn’t work at the Suzie Cappa Art Center, but he is creative, just like Paige.
When Paige and Tanner aren’t creating art, they are often shopping or going to Red Lobster. They also love to watch the movies "Indiana Jones", "Top Gun" and "Minions" and just enjoy each other’s company.
Despite all that Paige went through, she remains determined to retain a positive outlook on life. She loves her family, her friends and her work at the Suzie Cappa Art Center.
Sewing makes Paige feel happy. She loves creating new coaster designs that she can sell to others who share her love for color, mushrooms, and sparkles just as much as she does. She is always working hard and taking on a challenge that might have made other people just give up and do it differently. She has had it harder than most anyone can even imagine, yet no one would ever know because of her optimism on a day-to-day basis.
“She has one of the strongest senses of self that I’ve ever experienced with a human being, like, ever.” Haley said.
Paige has become a teacher to many on how to be kind and embrace life, which she believes is the best way to live.
Area '76
Story by Alec Butterfield
Photography by Landin Burke & Alec Butterfield
Not even halfway up the chairlift my face was already red from the beaming morning rays. Dirt was beginning to trace the ditches between the moguls under the lift. It snowed only two days before, now it was 70 degrees and any semblance of winter has subsided. Two days after and the snow flew again, rejuvenating whatever was left of the season.
Terry Peak in Lead, South Dakota raised me. From the first time my dad took me to the slopes at age two until purchasing my 19th season pass this year, it's all I've known. I was barely old enough to see out the window when 12-foot snowbanks would enclose the road up to the lodge. The bartender working at the Dark Horse would let me sit with my dad. The sign directly above my head stating “21 and older only.” That same sign was situated above my head this year when I purchased my first PBR.
The chairlift ride in the morning is part of my work routine. Until this year, I always refused to work at Terry, fearing it would pollute my love for skiing with resentment for work. That fear never came to fruition.
The rest of the morning routine consists of drilling holes and setting up safety signs. I work in the terrain park, a shining example of the ups and downs of Terry Peak the last 10 years. After drilling in the last sign, I walked up to our homebase. An old blue shed with rental snowboards drilled into the walls and ceiling, acting as insulation. We have a diesel heater, but it doesn't work. Two shitty space heaters are plugged in next to the outlet. Powered by a 400 foot extension cord leading to the snow-cat garage. A pile of cigarette butts is already forming in the snow outside the door.
“I literally got kicked off this mountain like four times,” said Derek Ayala, a veteran snowmaker and park crew worker. “I come up here, try to poach and Timmy Leopard, the old snowmaker, would catch me, everytime. I got blacklisted for a couple years.”
Ayala is the quintessential park crew attendant, spending his early years poaching runs and being a nuisance to management, all while training with hopes of being sponsored. The days of sponsorship are long gone now, but like so many others at Terry Peak, his legacy is now being passed down to his son.
“Im actually just going to be a coach at this point,” Ayala said. “I lost my knee so I'm not trying to push myself as much as I did, definitely starting to feel my age.”
Minutes later Ayala did a backflip on the first jump in front of the shed, making me question where this age is that he's talking about.
“It’s the dream dude, it literally is the dream,” said Blade Cox, another local snowboard bum. “Even in my mid 30’s it's something that I'm really passionate about and will continue to be until I'm old. Even when I can't ride, I'll still be at the bottom of the hill, stoked for all the kids.”
Cox and Ayala are part of a dying breed of ski-bum, both originally learning how to board at another local ski area, Deer Mountain. “America’s best kept secret,” the Deer Mountain’s billboard says.
The ski resort was taken private a few years ago, making it the best kept secret for only the uber wealthy. “The billionaires are moving to Bozeman so the millionaires are moving to Spearfish,” is a phrase becoming more true day-by-day.
“It was free, you know, you could just go ride and a lot of the locals would show up there,” Cox said. “Deer Mountain is what I call my home mountain.”
I called Deer Mountain, renamed Deer Mountain Village, to inquire about a day pass or visiting to see the changes.
“Call back when you can afford a home,” the phone
operator said.
The privatization of Deer Mountain is just another ski resort on the list of prioritizing profits over customer experience. Vail Resorts alone has acquired over 40 ski resorts in the last 20 years, causing lift-tickets and season passes to skyrocket across the industry. Unless, of course, one purchases an Ikon pass, granting the owner access to all Vail-owned properties.
“Are you Ikon people?” asked a lady sitting across from me at the bar, implying that owning an Ikon pass is now a sub-culture.
Vail and other conglomerates are leading a shift in ski culture from being one with nature and a grounded, local experience to more closely resembling a commercialized trip to an amusement park. It’s only a matter of time before a suit with deep pockets comes knocking on Terry Peak’s door.
“I think we’re two very different demographics,” said Landin Burke, the current terrain park manager. “And if nothing else I think all of our local legends down at the Dark Horse will scare off any of those suits. I kind of welcome a little bit of competition.”
On the day of Burke's high school graduation, Timmy, the same one who blacklisted Ayala from the mountain, walked up to Burke after the ceremony.
Burke had no plans after college, Timmy gave him the opportunity to come work for him in the park. Since that day Burke is a consistent sight in the park, raking the takeoffs at the end of every day. Even he will admit he never expected to work in the park beyond that first
season. Now, seven years later, the park is alive because of him.
“The only reason I'm here is because of Landin,” Ayala said. “He is the park, he took the reins. The people I work with are the only reason I'm here.”
Smoke rose from Ayala’s mouth as his cigarette burned down to the filter. He flicked it to the ground, adding to the ever-growing pile. Another local skis up to the shed, the fifth one that day, looking for conversation and a place to chill.
A continuous strand of people begin hitting the box rail in front of the shed before popping out of their bindings and hiking back up, just to hit the box again. This goes on for hours, encouraging cheers are silenced by body slams on the box and winces of pain. The shit-talking is just as apparent as the bruises forming on thighs and shoulders.
“That’s what we do it for,” Burke said. “Being out here, posted up, somebody stops by that you haven't seen in a while. It’s like 'Oh my god, it’s my buddy from Wyoming I haven't seen in two years.'”
Like me, Burke was raised by Terry Peak. This year was his 23rd owning a season pass. He was originally taught by his father before he followed his brother into the terrain park and never looked back.
Burke admired the park crew, idolizing them as the best and most creative skiers on the mountain. His brother was one of them, as well as Ayala and Cox. Now, young skiers look up to him for advice, the same way he viewed the older generation.
“It’s kind of all I've ever known to some extent,” Burke said. “It’s not really a job, it’s not really a sport, it’s definitely a lifestyle.”
That lifestyle used to be integral at Terry Peak through freestyle events put on every year. Drawing in crowds of hundreds to watch the locals compete for prizes and glory.
“Terry Peak, I don’t believe has ever fully supported terrain park culture,” said Jenny Ringling, a previous terrain park manager at Terry Peak, starting in 2009. “It’s kind of like skate parks, skate rats, it’s just this taboo saying of they’re just out there doing hoodrat shit.”
Park culture is closely tied to skate culture and all the stereotypes that come with it. A place where socialrejects, alcoholics and drug addicts reside. When in reality, it's where the next generation of Terry Peak regulars are being trained.
They are given a space not only to train, but a place to hangout and feel accepted.
“I don’t think Terry Peak is supporting it at all,” Ringling said. “I think they just tolerate it.”
Ringling was able to build the park up to over 20 features, small, medium and large jump lines and a full halfpipe. Multiple severe injuries that year put park growth on a hold and began a slow decline in size and support.
“I try to be the rebel, but I also understand from their side that the park is a big liability,” Burke said. “I think we got swept under the rug for a while and I'm just trying to bring it back and get a little more support.”
Nowadays, the park takes up half the run and has a wide variety of features, thanks to Burke and his efforts to keep it alive and return to the glory days.
Burke was shown a video well before starting his first year in the terrain park which showcased changes coming to the mountain. Some of the changes included moving the terrain park to the beginner hill right in front of the main lodge and building a new lodge on the other side of the resort. None of which have happened.
“We’ve been stagnant for a really long time,” Burke said. “There was a comical video about Terry Peaks 20 year grand vision, not a single step on that video has been completed.”
Terry Peak is Burke's home,
Ayala’s home, and my home. Giving Ayala a place to bond with his son, teach him everything he knows and give him the same life-changing experiences he himself experienced at the same age. Allowing Burke to continue his mission to bring the park back to the glory it held years ago while training the next generation of park rats.
“Maybe some kid is out riding by himself and you say ‘hey, hi, how's it going' and go do a chairlap with him,” Burke said. “Maybe hold their hand the first time they try a rail and they're like, ‘Oh my god I get it,’ it’s the little things like that.”
I was that kid out riding by themself, too scared to try a rail and too awkward to ask for help. Burke changed that and helped me overcome that fear as he has for countless others for numerous years.
“You know the park used to have a name back when it was cool and respected,” Burke said. “Area ‘76.”
“I think they just tolerate it”
Story by Hayden Hill
Photography by Alec Butterfield & Noah Westergaard
The lights are low, mostly coming from the bar in the back of the room. There are various levels of dress present: a man in jeans and a t-shirt, an older woman in a fulllength-dress, an excited twenty-something in a sparkling rainbow jumpsuit. It smells mildly like alcohol mixed with stale hotel convention-room air. It’s rough around the edges.
The crowd can see through the center gap in the curtains, displaying the performers prior to the optimal dramatic entrance. And after they’ve wowed the audience, the patrons can see them walk out the door to their ‘dressing room’ – a blocked off section at the end of the hallway outside the convention room. The music skips, one of the hosts is twenty minutes late and there’s only eighty people here. But this little show, in this little town, nestled deep in middle America, is about to create magic. Because this, honey, is DRAG.
Before the big performance, however, there is much work to do. Being a drag performer requires a specific skill set. The artists must know how to do makeup and hair, while curating what they are going to wear to perform. They must know how to lip sync and work a crowd, memorize music and choreography and be in shape to perform said choreography. Once the performance and persona are in place, the artists must network to find venues to perform at, maybe travel to get to those venues and pay for those expenses. Unfortunately, all of these hurdles are in addition to the highest of them all: drag artists often have to fight for their right to perform or to even exist in the first place.
You have to find the right music for your number. What works for you? Is it going to be simply lip syncing or will it be more physically demanding?
The stigma against drag artists continues to dwindle away in progressive parts of America and around the world, but remains stubbornly in place for other areas. One such area is Rapid City, South Dakota. Rapid is a town of about 80,000 people. The vast majority are Republican, Christian and white. This little town is at least six hours away from any major metropolitan area in any direction. In addition to its geographic isolation, a long history of conservative political dominance contributes to the culture in Rapid.
It can be very difficult to be openly queer in a place like this, and drag–an overwhelmingly queer artform–has struggled to thrive here. Art is nothing if not resilient, however, and drag performers in Rapid City continue to persevere despite the challenges of the location, its politics and its culture.
“I've worked very hard, and my girls have worked very hard, over the last five years to make Aby’s (a local bar and venue) what it is for drag,” said Patrick Fitzgibbon–aka Dixy Divine–a drag queen who's performed and produced drag in Rapid City for the past six years. “We have [a show] every month, and that's because of me.”
Fitzgibbon is a pillar of the drag community in Rapid City. It’s company –Divine Productions– is one of very few in Rapid and the surrounding area. The fact that it exists and achieves any level of success is a feat in and of itself.
Now you’ve found your music, you begin choreographing and rehearsing your act.
Even in little Midwestern towns, drag shows can be a grand occasion. People are in it for the love of the game. It's gratifying for those that care, both those involved behind the scenes and the show’s audience.
“I like going to these smaller venues personally, because someone needs to reflect the small amount of the LGBTQ community in these areas,” said Cynthia Grace–stage name Virgo the Vixen–a local drag queen in Rapid City. “[When] I go out to perform in these smaller areas, and those who do show up are grateful that someone is taking that initiative, and being that brave to say, 'hey, look, we're here to perform.'”
In 2018, Grace was entered into the Miss Deadwood competition by her friend and fellow drag queen Christine Kwon Do without her knowledge or permission. Her very first performance was far from perfect.
“So what happened is they shined the stage lights directly square into my eyes, okay? I misstepped,”Grace said. “So what happened is I rolled my ankle. I fell off stage. Half the audience was in tears because they were laughing so hard.
“The other half was mortified, okay? They allowed me to re-perform because of this. So here I'm up on stage on a bad ankle, giving it my all. And when I was done, I was thinking, 'Yeah, I could do this.'”
Her main take away, after being unknowingly entered into the competition, having to get ready in a broom closet and falling off the stage mid-performance, was that she wanted more. The reason she knew she could handle it? She already was. Everyday.
Next comes a vital step: the look. What’s the hair? How’s the paint job? What are we wearing?
“As a trans woman growing up here in South Dakota, I know what it feels like to be not only ostracized, exiled, dismissed, forsaken, forgotten,” Grace said. “You can think of any adjective you wanna put in there, and I probably have faced it, or have experienced it at one time.”
It’s possible to talk about drag culture and history without talking about transgender people, but it’d be about as thorough as painting a rainbow with only three colors in it. Trans people and drag artists have a complicated, intertwined history. Many trans people do drag as an interest separate from their gender identity, but many also find themselves through performing in drag. At its core, drag is an exaggerated performance of gender. When performing in drag, men often dress in feminine ways and women in masculine ways. There’s also plenty of androgynous drag artists and non-binary people who do drag in a number of different ways. But because cross-dressing–even if highly stylized– is usually present when performing drag, people can learn things about themselves. They intend to dress up for a performance and discover they like how it feels to be seen in this way or wear these kinds of clothes.
That journey of self-discovery is a valuable thing, especially for the artists themselves, but unfortunately, it’s not something everyone understands or agrees with.
“I just laugh at it and move on [from negative reactions], because that's all you really can do," Fitzgibbon said. “I mean, you can take the comment and have a little fun with it, but you can't let it ultimately affect your day, because we have too many things right now in this country that are really affecting our community.”
Okay, we pretty much know what you’re doing and how it’ll look. But how could it be improved? We need other’s opinions! Call your girls!
Drag artists and LGBTQ+ community members in general are great cheerleaders for each other. Amidst all the hate and vitriol thrown at them, they have each other’s back. But in the current political climate in America, trans people need the most support from others. And because there's so many trans people in the drag community, a lot of that support comes from them.
“Especially in this day and age, we really need to put ourselves aside and make sure that everybody around us is okay and then, at the same time, that's going to nurture our soul and feed us and make sure that we're okay,” Fitzgibbon said. “That's not for everybody, I know that, but [trans people are] constantly under attack right now. It's what I think the community itself needs.”
Support from fellow community members isn’t a transactional relationship either. There's an innate understanding that queer people have with each other that other people can’t always understand. You don't have to explain your feelings or justify your existence to other queer people because they get it. They’ve lived it too. And that bond can become very strong.
“Any queer person knows that we create our own family and we surround ourselves with people that love and appreciate us and we love and appreciate them,” Fitzgibbon said.
With some help, you’ve tweaked the look, changed some dance steps and made your number performance worthy.
Queer folk deal with hate being thrown at them on a daily basis and on national news, they have to cope with that somehow. Community support is a big part of that
but so is individual resolve. One must find something in oneself that keeps them going. For Cynthia Grace, it’s living as her bold and unapologetic self.
“This is aside from drag, but when you face these challenges as a trans woman, the ostracized, because of how politicized it has been in recent 10 years, you learn you have a choice,” Grace said. “And every person's not like me. And I'll be the first to admit that, that I'm bold and I'm different … and not everyone can be as brave or as bold, and that's understandable, but someone has to be out there. Someone has to say, ‘I'm not afraid of you, I'm here, and I'm not the monster that you think I am, okay? I'm just like you.’ Just like anyone else.”
The night of your performance arrives. You get to the venue and begin getting ready.
Just because a myriad of political issues surround drag and trans people, that doesn’t mean that’s all drag is about. It can be used to bring light to or poke fun at those issues, but drag is art. It’s a performance, it should be joyous. In fact, it can be – and often is both things simultaneously.
“It's all about being entertained,” Grace said. “If you want to come to a show and be entertained by different styles in drag, by different forms, different people, I would just come. Now it is like any other art. It is subjective to criticism, to be judged, and if you don't like it, great, you're more than welcome to leave."
“No one's saying you have to stay for the full show, but just give us a fair opportunity because it is a lot of fun…I come from the old-school way of drag and the way of thinking of drag, and that's back to the foremothers back in Europe when they used drag as a social satire to bring light to the issues of that time. That's the philosophy and school I go with, is to use my persona, to use my characterization, or whatever you wish to call it, to bring attention to these issues.”
Drag doesn’t hurt anyone. It’s a combinated celebration of gender and performance art. So even though Rapid City is still years behind more populated, progressive areas, there’s drag art here.
There are queer people here. Always have been and always will be.
The show begins. You wait your turn backstage and are subjected to the constant hum of nervous excitement that comes just before a performance.
One may have to find it between the cracks of all the mainstream goings-on, but drag is here.
“So I think we in Rapid City even though we have a lot of fucking shitty people…there's a lot of good people around here,” Fitzgibbon said. “And sometimes we don't see that because of the shitty people that are out there…We do have a very liberal area, but again it gets overshadowed and you just have to find those people.”
Drag is a beautiful thing for all those involved. Even when it’s a small show in the middle of nowhere, it's beautiful. Rapid City queer people and drag artists are currently a small, but mighty few, but they’ll continue to exist and continue to fight for as long as needed.
The time has come. It’s your turn to take the stage. You can see a few waiting patrons through the center gap in the curtains. They’re smiling and holding cash. You take one last deep breath, hold your head up high, and when your name is called, you breathe out, turn on the face, walk out there and shine.
TILL THE WHEELS FALL OFF
Feller
Story by Nathan
Photography by Caleb Minor
In an empty house, a young boy – no older than fourteen –moved carefully around his room. His mom finally left him alone for the weekend.
He stripped the sheets and blankets from his bed and replaced them with an old tarp.
“My grandpa killed himself when I was six and my mom had to clean that up. I wanted it to make it as easy as [possible] to clean me up.”
Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed, his father's .22 pistol in hand – working up the courage to pull the trigger.
But before he could commit, an unknowing savior intervened.
“[A friend] just happened to want to talk to me, and it was just enough to keep me here for that day.”
Born and raised in Sturgis, South Dakota, Nick Draine fought his whole life both in and out of the ring. Today, the 25 year old is living out his dreams as a professional boxer, coach, youth mentor and firefighter, but he did not fulfill these dreams without sacrifice.
Draine began his boxing career in Rapid City, South Dakota, at the age of 14.
“My best friend at the time wanted to lose weight, but he didn’t want to do any school sports,” Draine said. “He pulled me aside one day and said he found this boxing gym in Rapid and asked me if I wanted to go with him.”
Intrigued, Draine decided to accompany his friend to Rapid City Youth Boxing to see what the sport was all about.
“I immediately fell in love with it,” Draine said. “I’ll never forget the first day I walked in there. I just knew that’s what I wanted to keep doing, and I stuck with it.”
Almost instantly, Draine found something he hadn’t even realized was missing from his life.
“I was always an aggressive person, and I had a temper real bad when I was younger,” Draine said. “[Boxing] gave me a great outlet for that, and it helped me figure out a way to use [my aggression] for something productive instead of being an asshole elsewhere.”
For Draine, boxing meant a new start – a way to remove himself from the life he had been living and to improve it.
“Growing up in a small town, it's not uncommon for young boys
to get a little rough and tumble,” Draine said. “I just happened to be all right at doing that.”
Driven by his newfound passion, Draine approached Michelle Rodriguez, his mother, with a request to start training consistently and, eventually, start booking matches. Reluctantly, she agreed.
“Nick has always been a deep thinker,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “So when he came to me when he was fourteen or fifteen and said he wanted to try boxing, I knew he had thought it through as much as he could.”
Determined to help her son get started on his new path, Mrs. Rodriguez made sacrifices and found a way to be there for Draine.
“I was a single mom and poor, but I drove him to boxing three nights a week in Rapid City,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “It was the only program at the time he could go to. But Eddie Martinez was just a light in our life at the time, and he was a really good mentor to Nick. It was hard watching him box, but I knew that Eddie had his best interests at heart.”
More often than not, combat sports are not the ideal career path a mother would envision for her son. However, with her family’s background in boxing and a strong love for her son, Mrs. Rodriguez was able to look past her fears for Draine’s safety and support his passion.
“There’s obviously some concern,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “But Nick had a pretty rough childhood for a while, and when he started going to the gym, he started healing mentally and physically. When he’d have hard days, he could go to the gym, and that’s what made him happy. That outweighs the dangers of the sport every time.”
Training under Martinez at Rapid City Youth Boxing, Draine began developing and refining himself both physically and mentally – transforming into a promising young boxer.
Typically, a new boxer, especially a young one, will train for around a year or more before they are trusted to hold their own in an amateur fight. Draine was prepared in half that time.
Just six months into training, Draine was chomping at the bit to get in the ring for a real match. However, he soon experienced firsthand the fear that comes with walking headfirst into a scheduled fight.
“If you’re not nervous before a fight, you’re either lying or you don’t have any emotions,” Draine said. “I still get nervous, but I’ll never forget my first fight. I went into the bathroom at the Rawlins Middle School to change, and all I could think was what was I doing and how the fuck could I get out of it.”
Swallowing his fear and doubt, Draine forced himself out of the bathroom and through warmups.
“After warmups, you have to just sit there,” Draine said. “It’s called being on deck. And as I’m getting closer and closer to the ring, I’m
getting more nervous.”
Locked in a grueling battle with his racing thoughts and pounding heart before the first bell had even rung, Draine willed himself between the ropes and toward the center of the ring until he stood toe-to-toe with his opponent.
“The ref gave us our final instructions, and as soon as that bell rang, it was too late to do anything else but fight,” Draine said.
Despite losing the close decision, one fight was all it took for Draine to realize he’d discovered what would become his life’s work.
“I feel like it’s really rare, and I wish it could happen for more people,” Draine said. “I remember exactly where I was standing when I made the decision that I was going to be a professional fighter. I was getting ready for practice at Martinez’s gym, and I realized that this was what I wanted to do. There’s nothing that’s going to stop me from doing it.”
As he continued to further his career, Draine began to establish himself as a respectable opponent in the amateur boxing community. Although he did not hold an undefeated record, the young, relatively inexperienced boxer was more than just holding his own in the ring.
“The first match I got to watch, there was nobody in Nick’s experience range,” Mrs. Rodrigez said. “The best option was a kid who was two years older than Nick and had more than ten matches in his book. Nick won in a split decision. He beat a kid who had more than ten fights, and the look of pure joy on his face was the moment I realized I could handle watching him fight.”
Draine boxed as an amateur for a few years under Martinez, fighting his way around the state and parts of the region. However, as Draine ventured further into the world of combat sports, his curiosity grew.
“I was sixteen when I started doing Muay Thai,” Draine said. “At the time, the old coach for Rapid City Boxing, [Martinez], was stepping down.”
In need of a new coach to help maintain and progress his athletic career, Draine scoured the internet with an open mind for a new gym to call home.
“I found out there was a Muay Thai gym over in Black Hawk [South Dakota],” Draine said. “I started training there, and I really enjoyed it. About six months after I started training there, the coach came up to me and asked if I’d be interested in going to Thailand to train with them.”
The chance to travel to Thailand, the motherland of the “Art of Eight Limbs,” was far too great for Draine to pass up.
“I got the opportunity to go to Bangkok and train at an actual gym,” Draine said. “To them, fighting is more of a spiritual journey than a physical one. [Muay Thai] is like a religious event for those people. They never ask how many fights you’ve won, they only ask how many times you’ve fought because that’s all they care about.”
Enveloped in the spiritual and passionate culture of Muay Thai, Draine opened himself up to a whole new world of what fighting and combat sports could mean.
“[Muay Thai] has changed the way that I’ve looked at fights,” Draine said. “I don't look at them like I have to win anymore. The way I look at it is that anyone I fight is going to remember the day they fought me, whether I win, lose or the fight gets dropped. It’s taken a lot of pressure off of me now that I’m not so focused on having to win.”
Draine’s new mindset has allowed him to fight and train with a precise focus he’s never experienced before. Because of it, his efficiency both in and out of the ring has improved as well as his mental health.
“There’s already a thousand voices in your head when you're getting ready for a fight,” Draine said. “Because, believe it or not, it’s not natural for human beings to schedule a day to go get in a fistfight.”
It was this unnatural act that molded Draine into the man he has become. In defiance of the hardships and challenges he has faced,
"IF YOU WANT SOMETHING, AND YOU’RE WILLING TO PUT THE WORK IN AND MAKE SACRIFICES, THEN YOU CAN HAVE IT.”
Draine remains determined to bring his best wherever he goes and create a positive impact within his community and the sport he loves, regardless of the danger he faces and the pain he suffers.
“When I put my socks on, I lay flat on my back on the bed and I bring my leg up to me because it fucking hurts to bend over,” Draine said. “I got problems with my neck, and I got problems with my back. I wake up some mornings, and my hands are numb. But the biggest thing is your brain is not meant to get sloshed around in your head. A lot of people suffer from CTEs after their careers. Regardless, I definitely want to keep [boxing]. I’ll do it until the wheels fall off.”
Despite the risk, the damage and the near guarantee of lasting, chronic health complications, Draine remains determined to give everything he has to boxing – the sport that gave him a second
at the perfect time, and then I found boxing and I realized it could give me something to live for.”
Driven by his gratitude for the boxing community he credits for saving his life, Draine has committed himself to the sport and to training and mentoring the youth of the Black Hills area in the art of boxing – teaching them everything he knows about making it through life.
“I know injuries can happen,” Draine said. “But, to me, that’s not as bad as it was sitting there getting ready to end everything. I would rather pursue this and sacrifice my body this way instead of letting all of it end right there. One day, some kid might walk through the door in the same position I was in, and if I can help them make the right decision, that would be enough for me.”
"I FEEL LIKE, FAR TOO OFTEN, THERE ARE PEOPLE IN THIS WORLD THAT DIDN’T DO WHAT THEY WANTED TO DO."
chance over ten years ago.
“For whatever reason, I always had that screw loose in my head where I was just depressed and angry,” Draine said. “I’d lost a lot of people at that point in my life, and it ate at me for a long time. I didn’t understand it, I didn’t know how to deal with it and it made me crazy. I felt like my only way out was to take myself out.”
Draine’s love of boxing comes from something much deeper than just enjoyment of the sport. Boxing and its community welcomed him with open arms when he was broken, and he has never forgotten that.
“I made the decision with myself when I was fifteen,” Draine said. “The way I feel is that I’m already on borrowed time. When this sport found me, I was at the lowest point in my life I’d ever been. The only reason I’m still here is because a person very close to me reached out
For the last few years, Draine has been working alongside his mother and Ron Rodriguez, his step-father and current coach, at the Sturgis PAL Boxing Club, which was established by the Sturgis Police Department as a safe space where youth and adults can go to train, learn and build relationships.
“Nick is a really great mentor for the kids and adults alike because of the things that he’s gone through and the things he’s learned to overcome,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “He’s always dreamed of helping kids and coaching.”
Draine has thrived as a boxing coach. His dedication to the sport, the athletes and his life experiences have allowed him to forge strong connections with the youth who have also suffered hardships early in their lives.
He hopes to inspire his athletes to pursue their dreams –whatever they may be.
“One of the biggest things I’ve learned through boxing is that if you want something, and you’re willing to put the work in and make sacrifices, then you can have it,” Draine said. “That’s one of the things I try to tell the kids around [the gym]. Not every kid who walks through these doors is going to be a professional boxer. They might want to be a chef or a dancer. Whatever it is, I want them to know that if they’re willing to make sacrifices and put in the work to do it, then they can.”
During his time coaching and mentoring at the PAL boxing club, Draine has proven his commitment to improving the facility and the lives of the athletes time and again.
Draine even completed a seven-hour workout fundraiser to finance a remodel of the gym, which allowed Mr. Rodriguez to purchase new equipment for the facility, all in the name of helping the youth reach their goals.
“I feel like, far too often, there are people in this world that didn’t do what they wanted to do, so they make it their mission to tell other people that they can do what they want to do,” Draine said. “People are so quick to write off other people’s dreams because they gave up on themselves, and I don’t want them to give up because I never did. That’s why being a professional boxer is so important to me.”
Aside from his boxing career and his work with the Sturgis PAL Boxing Club, Draine also participates in a number of other community events and works as a firefighter for the Sturgis Fire Department.
“He’s really coming into the community in Sturgis and embracing different things he can do,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “I credit boxing for that, it’s given him the confidence to tackle new challenges. It’s impressive to me how he’s taken everything he’s learned in the gym and transposed it into his life.”
Since earning his professional card with the Association of Boxing Commission, Draine has had a less than ideal start to his professional career.
However, Draine and Mr. Rodriguez hope for a turnaround since he concluded his amateur career after only seven bouts. Considering the nature of their relationship, the two believe their closeness and Draine’s lack of wear and tear will contribute to success in the near future.
“In 2018, I was training at a gym in Spearfish,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “These girls that were competing already came to the gym and they wanted to train with me. One day, one of the gals brought Nick in, and they asked if it would be okay if he started training with us. I took a liking to Nick because he was just a good kid. I could tell he loved the sport. He trained hard, and that’s just what you like to see as a coach.”
As Draine and Mr. Rodriguez’s relationship grew stronger, Mr. Rodriguez was eventually introduced to Draine’s mother during his high school graduation party.
“It was pretty funny,” Mr. Rodriguez said. “Nick was watching me pretty closely, but his mom and I started talking and hanging out, then we started dating and I ended up with a beautiful wife and a great stepson. It was just one of those things where the universe put us all together and made us one big boxing family. And I’m so proud of [Nick]. He’s just a fantastic kid, and we love him to death."
With strong family ties and a loving community behind him, Drain expects to keep fighting for as long as he can – for himself and for his family. And after four professional fights, he believes the sky could be the limit for him.
“I want Nick to be proud of himself no matter where he goes with his boxing career,” Mrs. Rodriguez said. “I know that it helps him work through things. I know that it keeps him going every day. I just want to see him successful and happy. Win or lose, it doesn’t matter. Nick always comes out smiling because he’s doing what he loves, and that’s what’s important.”
Service With a Smile
Story by Alivia Weathers | Photography By Carly Smith
One of the most underrated spots in Nebraska is a coffee shop in south-central Lincoln called Rose Cat Coffee Company and Reading Society. This little shop has something that can't be found anywhere else.
“I wanted to work here because I like to see my friends here who make me smile and make me feel special,” said Elissa Fuelbirth, a Rose Cat employee. “My favorite part is seeing the customers' smiling faces and making coffee.”
A coffee shop was not originally a part of the plan. Brenda Kasaty experienced life in a way that so many of us do: plans adjusting, people changing and paths moving around. Her career did not begin in the service industry until a few years ago, and the end goal was never to own a business.
Kasaty was born and raised in California. By 2010, Kasaty had completed her undergraduate program in Psychology from the University of Concordia-Irvine and her master's in Social Work from California State University, Long Beach. She found her calling in a profession that helps people enhance their overall well-being.
As her college career ended, Kasaty took on an internship with a company that introduced her to therapeutic services and special education. That internship led her to becoming a licensed social worker in the state of California and Kasaty began her post-grad career.
After graduation, Kasaty spent a few years working for an insurance company doing utilization review for mental health.
As the workload intensified, Kasaty’s interest began to fade in what was once her dream field, and she began looking for new opportunities with an open mind.
Amid a minor career crisis and a growing family, Kasaty and her husband decided to leave California and move to Minnesota in 2016. Kasaty landed in the high school system as a paraprofessional
and loved every second of her time there. Although the pay felt insufficient, she knew the work that she was doing was important.
Kasaty hadn’t spent much time with the Intellectual and Developmental Disability community before this job. Her relationships with these students grew and she sympathized with them, knowing many wouldn’t have career opportunities outside the social walls that had been placed around them.
When the Kasaty family moved again in 2020, the pandemic altered their ability to find community and connection in the new space of Lincoln, Nebraska. Brenda spent the next few years raising her children and guiding them through homeschooling, with the spark of education and childcare still in the back of her mind.
In their homeschool group, Kasaty’s oldest daughter bonded with a girl named Ellia, who had been diagnosed with a degenerative muscular disorder. However, that didn’t hold her back from being her sweet, sassy and spunky self.
When Ellia would play, she transformed into an imaginary character named
Rose Cat: a girl with cat ears and a cape who was capable of anything she dreamed of doing.
Ellia passed away in October of 2022 at the age of thirteen. Ellia’s dad made a picture that read, “Rose Cat’s Reading Society” and his wife sent the picture to Kasaty.
She read those words and knew that the idea that she had put on the back burner for so long finally had a purpose and a name.
Motion began on this project in 2023 when Kasaty decided that a coffee shop would be the best way to provide work for the IDD community in her area.
“Coffee is comfortable,” Kasaty said. “We know people like it and we didn’t want to reinvent things that people already do. We just want to change how it’s done and the impact it makes on people.”
March 2024 was when Rose Cat was finally available to the public, with an enormous line out the door. Perhaps one of Rose Cat Coffee Co.’s biggest successes is the fact that within a year of business, all of the original staff still works there. All 13 staff members who were present on opening day still remain with the team.
Many customers can feel the love and community that holds the shop together the second they walk through the door. The white walls, the neon light sign and the plants scattered throughout the shop only enhance the beautiful corner dedicated to the “Reading Society” name. The in-house library adds a sense of peace and tranquility to the shop – customers are encouraged to take and leave a book as they go.
“Not including a drive-thru might have been a missed opportunity, but I wanted everyone to slow down in this crazy life,” Kasaty said.
The customers of Rose Cat Coffee Co. have done just that. Rose Cat is a place for gathering.
“What Rose Cat is doing is proving to the community why inclusion and
kindness matter everywhere you go.”
Between knitting groups, bible studies, book clubs and business meetings, the store has created a community of its own.
“The kind of customer we want is someone who wants to be involved in what we are doing,” Kasaty said. “What Rose Cat is doing is proving to the community why inclusion and kindness matter everywhere you go.”
That community carries between the customers and all the way through to the staff. While talking with Kasaty, one can’t help but notice the tremendous amount of love and pride she feels for each team member – including a man named Chad.
“Chad had just turned thirty and never had worked before,” Kasaty said. “Although Chad has Down Syndrome and can be very difficult to understand, nothing can stop his love of talking and smiling.”
Kasaty continued with how during training, each employee was given a list of questions they needed to practice asking each customer.
“With an ear-to-ear smile, Chad delivered his question with as much clarity as anyone had heard from him. I couldn’t help but feel so proud of him.” Kasaty said.
A simple story about a man who overcame.
“I think what we are doing just hits different,” Kasaty said. “If you want a fast cup of coffee, maybe we’re not what you’re looking for. But if you want to leave with a smile, be better and feel better, we are exactly what you’re looking for.”
Rose Cat opens a whole new window of opportunity. Kasaty mentions how difficult it can be to start a small business and get something off the ground. With over 30 people on the waiting list, the demand for inclusivity in the workplace is urgent. Kasaty has dreams of opening another store front, if financing allows it.
With only a year of business under their belt, Rose Cat and the work it is doing for the community in Lincoln has not gone
unnoticed. Rose Cat continues to win numerous grants and awards. Most importantly, this little coffee shop is doing exactly what it was intended to do.
“We want to inspire a world where employment opportunities for those with IDD are abundant, where inclusion is a standard and where every person’s potential is seen and valued,” Kasaty said. “It is more than just a cup of coffee. You’re getting to know people that you really otherwise wouldn’t get to know.”
Rose Cat might sell coffee and beverages, but their most
valuable item is the smile that comes with it.
“I love that people here have disabilities and we get to be kind to the people around us,” said Rachel Moon, an employee at Rose Cat.
Those smiles and kindness is what makes Rose Cat Coffee Company & Reading Society the business it is: a place where you can come for a drink or a book, but you leave with something worth so much more.
“We hope you find joy in getting to interact with our staff in all of their glory,” Kasaty said. “We sell coffee, not gold, but you will leave with a smile.”
n ew horizons
Story by Logan Bunney photography by duncan martin
Every August, the town of Sturgis, South Dakota, fills with the sound of loud engines and crowds of leather jackets. While the Sturgis Rally embodies much of the atmosphere surrounding it, there is a new energy entering the town that has started building the community in a unique way. The complete transformation of a 1950s hospital building into a business hub and a place to gather has revamped the town.
The Massa Berry Building in Sturgis, was named after Dr. Lawrence Massa, who was an osteopathic doctor. This building was built to serve the community and take care of the people's needs, and that mission still stands true today.
John Strand and his wife, Erica Spurrier, who now own and run several businesses inside the Massa Berry Building, never imagined that they would one day become entrepreneurs.
“Our original goal and dream in life was that Erica was going to be an engineer, and I was going to be a university professor — as you can see, none of that happened,” Strand said.
Spurrier grew up in Casper, Wyoming with plans to attend the University of Wyoming and study architectural engineering. Strand grew up right down the street from the Massa Berry Building in Sturgis. He also attended the University of Wyoming and studied political science as well as international studies. This is where their paths crossed and their relationship took root.
While their original plans may not have worked in their favor, the success that followed them made it all worthwhile. Their endeavors into the world of business started with the creation of Black Hills Information Security (BHIS) in 2008-Cybersecurity company that focuses on penetration testing, red teaming and incident response.
“I got into some hacking in college,” Strand said.
The tech world was still in its infancy during their college years. Therefore, this was new territory. After the formation of BHIS, the company found it difficult to gather its team together for conferences. As the business continued to grow, they needed a solution to bring everyone together.
“We wanted to get our whole team together, but we couldn't get tickets anymore,” Spurrier said.
Instead of giving up on the idea, they were inspired to create their own conference. BHIS found a perfect opportunity to unite its team while also bringing people from the community together to develop connections.
“I didn’t believe anyone would come to South Dakota, but Erica was sure,” Strand said. “She was right.”
Their last conference saw over 800 people flying into South Dakota to attend. As well as a change in venues to accommodate the influx of people. The conference now takes place at the Deadwood Mountain Grand in Deadwood, South Dakota.
“We had people hitchhiking to the venue because all rental cars were completely sold out,” Spurrier said.
The conference is called Wild West Hacking Fest, providing an event to bring together their team and educate others within the same field. While manning the conference, they would hand out t-shirts and merchandise.
“We were doing t-shirts, why not start a clothing company,” Strand said.
This led them to create ‘Spearphish General Store’ which offers t-shirts, comic books, pencils, stickers and even their own card game. Backdoors and Breaches was designed to teach players about hacking and defense, and was ranked #1 on Amazon’s educational games list two weeks after its release.
“We have around 170,000 of those games circulating around-it’s got these attack cards that guide you through a cyberattack and defense cards that show how to counter it,” Strand said.
They give the game out to universities to educate students about hacking and defense. Distributing to students gives them learning tools and new knowledge of the unknowns within cybersecurity. Aiming their product at young students is a sound way to introduce them early on.
Spearphish General Store is now operating out of the Massa Berry Building. Prior to this move and renovation, they had an office in both Spearfish and Rapid City, South Dakota. During their time in Rapid City, they were in the Incubation Center, which provides office space and support for STEM startups.
“We got cheap rent and the opportunity to grow. The state of South Dakota covered our power bill, which was a huge help,” Strand said.
As space was getting filled, they needed more room to run their business. Sturgis was the perfect in-between. Strand and Spurrier were looking for the perfect building and when they found the Massa Berry Building, they were drawn its potential.
"We didn't need the whole space," Strand said.
They had the opportunity to create something unique and set themselves apart from any other place. The Massa Berry Building contains unique and versatile inclusions. From a coffee shop to a climbing wall, the possibilities are endless.
“The coffee shop was the plan from the beginning,” Spurrier said.
Located at the entrance of the building is Brew Berry Bistro. This spot offers more than just a regular coffee shop. Their versatile menu ranges from buttery pasties to fresh acaí bowls, serving meals for any time of the day. A tall fireplace stands in the middle, creating a warm and cozy atmosphere. They work with local farms and bakeries in the area to supply fresh and flavorful cuisine.
“It's harder in the winter, but most of our chicken is local, beef as well—our lettuce is all local,” Strand said.
When surveying the space, they saw a room with 20-foot ceilings. A friend of theirs walked in and felt as if it was the perfect spot for a climbing wall addition. It was settled that this idea would overtake this room. A Kilter board is now installed in the room, which offers endless routes and challenges. It is open to the public for free on Friday nights. While planning for the rest of the space, the original concept was to convert it into a co-working space.
"We looked at coworking ideas, but it just didn’t seem like it was something the community needed just yet. People were calling, but they were mostly looking for individual office spaces,” Spurrier said.
After listening to the needs of the community, they created several traditional office spaces while keeping some for co-working as well as adding a conference room. The building now offer small offices to rent for an affordable price, providing a working space for the people who need it. As the community became more aware of the space, they started receiving requests to host fitness classes.
“Instantly, we had three people contacting us, wanting a space to run a class,” Spurrier said.
This space is free for instructors who want to run classes. This emphasizes the need for a space where people can go to do what they love. Yoga, Zumba and line dancing are only a few of the classes offered, with more to come in the future.
"The building kind of dictated what we put in here," Spurrier said. "We weren’t going to use all the space, so we had to figure
out what would work."
Their vision reached beyond just creating all the different facilities. It was built on the fact that it was about creating a space for others to feel inspired in.
"We wanted a place where we’d be excited to come to work— you hear about companies like Google and their cool facilities. We wanted that feeling too,” Strand said.
As a perk for the employees, they added free food and coffee. This created an incentive to go to work, but also be comfortable in the space they were working in.
"We want our employees to be happy to come to work, so we offer them food and coffee. It's a place people want to be,” Strand said.
Their goal of serving the community fostered the idea of a drop-in daycare.
“We’re working on it, and we’re hoping to make it part-time and drop-in,” Spurrier said.
The daycare provides parents with a safe place for their children if errands need to be run, or if they want to get some work done in the coffee shop or take a fitness class on-site. The drop-in service can be used from neighboring towns as well, such as Deadwood, Spearfish and even Rapid City.
"We want it to be a relief for parents who need that flexibility," Spurrier said. "In a place like this, it’s not about committing to five days a week; it’s about giving people options for when they need them, " Spurrier said.
Spurrier’s focus on this is rooted in her own life as a parent.
"When we had little kids, we would've loved to have had a place to drop them off for an hour while we went on a mountain bike ride
or just got some time for ourselves,” Spurrier said.
The Massa Berry Building is fostering a space where everyone's needs can be met, and everyone can benefit from the different amenities. It aims to be the perfect blend of community and convenience.
"The daycare is meant to tie it all together,” Strand said.
What began as a plan to turn a building into a space for their company has blossomed into a growing community hub. As the Massa Berry Building evolves with time, their love for the area stays the same, and they plan to stay for the foreseeable future.
“We usually don’t start things from the perspective of trying to sell it to make money. We do things because it’s doing cool stuff with cool people.” Strand said.
The approach of listening to what the people want and not what they thought was best has been a game-changer within their space. As well as showing that they were truly selfless in that journey.
“I just love it here, the people are great,” Strand said.
Strand and Spurrier plan to host events throughout the year that range from speed dating to Dungeons & Dragons sessions. Their focus is to bring people together and not just create a successful business, but also bring an energy that emphasizes connection and creativity.
"You talk to a lot of people who are at our stage of life—where they're winding down and starting to slow down," Strand said. "We don't have that luxury. We're constantly thinking about the next thing."
Strand and Spurrier are eager for the future – by transforming a hospital into an innovative community hub, a new purpose has been infused in the space, and it won't stop anytime soon.
"I was born here, and God willing, I’ll die here," Strand said.
STORY KEEPERS
Story by Ellen Sheehy
Photography by Brooke Lammle and Sierra Hopp
Everybody's Bookstore, Rapid City, SD
Four years ago, Jessie Polenz did not want to own a bookstore.
“I always just wanted to work for somebody and get my paycheck and go,” Polenz said.
So working Mondays at Everybody’s Bookstore in Rapid City, South Dakota, was perfect for her. That is, perfect until the owner–Lori Speirs–decided to sell, and no one wanted to buy.
Speirs kept the store on the market for six to eight months, but not many people were looking to purchase a used bookstore in 2022, and eventually she decided to liquidate the store so she could actually retire.
“I was like, wait, wait!” Polenz said. “I never had a desire to actually own a business, but it was ‘own a business and figure it out’ or ‘don’t have the best bookstore in town anymore.’ So I said, ‘Okay, I will buy this place, and I will figure it out.’”
Everybody’s Bookstore, located on West Main Street, is easily recognizable by the colorful mural that wraps around the building proclaiming, “So. Many. Books.” The interior was crafted by a book lover for book lovers: a maze of tall shelves with an assortment of armchairs, stools and wooden kitchen chairs tucked in the corners.
Taking over Everybody’s Bookstore was not easy. Polenz said several times that she would have enrolled in a few business classes during college if she had known where life would take her.
“There’s some things as an English major that you don’t know anything about until somebody tells you,” Polenz said.
While her previous work at Everybody’s Bookstore (as well as other bookstores and libraries) had taught Polenz how to curate and organize a collection of books, she knew very little about the financial and legal aspects of running a bookstore–especially the taxes.
“I’m glad to pay my taxes,” Polenz said. “But when do you pay them? Who do you pay them to? How often do you pay them? There’s nowhere that lays all this out for new business owners, at least not that I could find.”
Organizing the books in the store was a task of such magnitude it left Polenz lying on the floor, overwhelmed. When she took over, stacks of books covered the floor as well as the shelves, so she decided to abridge the inventory and arrange all the books by genre and author’s name, with a special marking system allowing her to
see how many years a book had sat on the shelf.
Her sister and another employee, Danielle, helped organize huge sections of the store, and her dad, a retired carpenter, built more shelves. The store is still full; Polenz joked that she doesn’t host book clubs because there’s no room, and if there is room, she fills it up with books.
“My dad can’t even stand it when I look at him,” Polenz said. “He’s like, 'Oh God, what have you done? There’s no more room for shelves.'"
At its core, Everybody’s Books is a bookstore by the community, for the community.
“We literally would not be here without the community because I don’t go looking for books,” Polenz said. “I’ve spent maybe thirty dollars on books the whole time I’ve owned this store, just because I picked some up when I was over in Wyoming for fun.”
Her entire collection is built from the books that people bring her. Polenz would be the first to say there’s nothing wrong with buying a book straight off the printing press, but she believes there’s something special about used books.
“New books don’t have any history or past yet, but an old book will intersect with your life in a much more interesting way,” Polenz said. In exchange for their donations, customers get store credit. Some customers also help organize shelves in exchange for books. And whether they volunteer or just shop, many customers build relationships and have conversations about their most recent reads.
“It’s so cool how people come together here–really like-minded people,” Polenz said.
Polenz developed a love for reading at a young age, as her family couldn’t afford television–and later when they could, they didn’t need one because they had books. For a while Polenz also wanted to be a writer, but when she gets home at the end of a long day she doesn’t want to write–she wants to read.
She recently read The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue, in this book one of the characters (who works in a bookstore) says he would rather be a story keeper than a storyteller.
“That’s where I’m at right now too,” Polenz said. “I’m a story keeper."
Henry's Books, Spearfish, SD
Elizabeth Mattson came into her bookstore with a little more planning than Polenz, though she hadn’t always envisioned herself owning a bookstore either.
“Customers ask me fairly often, with a starry look in their eyes, ‘Was this your dream since you were a kid?’” Mattson said. “And I say, not necessarily a bookstore, but I did always dream about having something that made a meaningful impact on the community.”
She opened Henry’s Books with her husband, Dylan, in Spearfish, South Dakota. The store, named after her three-yearold son, is located in a beautiful historic building in downtown Spearfish with creaky wood floors and tall dark shelves.
Though it is small–and, she admits, partially because it is small–Mattson carefully curates the ever-changing collection. “My journey has been so much of waiting for somebody to give me permission, but I never needed anybody to give me permission to take that leap of faith,” Mattson said.
She graduated from BHSU with a psychology degree, but the career it led to wasn’t for her. In 2017, she won a free ticket to a business coaching program, and that gave her the courage to take a step toward her dream job–working for herself. She sold her high school car and used the money to start up a social media marketing business. Later, she transitioned into consulting.
“Everything I learned in working for myself beautifully culminated into opening the bookstore,” Mattson said. “It didn’t feel scary anymore.”
Henry’s Books opened on June 4, 2024. People came one-byone until the store was packed full and the line stretched onto the road outside, everyone was grabbing books as fast as they could.
“I will never forget the excitement on people’s faces,” Mattson said.
The store closes at five, but at six her husband, Dylan, had to start turning people away. In the first week of business, they sold a month’s worth of inventory.
“Never in my life had I really had to tell myself yesterday wasn’t a dream, it was actually real, and I was going to go to the bookstore and do it again,” Mattson said. It seems a bookstore is what Spearfish wanted. Just as Polenz discovered that Everybody’s Bookstore is a place where old friendships are revisited and new friendships are built, Mattson has found Henry’s Books to be a place for the readers of Spearfish to come together.
While she hosts workshops, book clubs and signings for local authors, her customers also form relationships through casual conversations about books.
“As divisive as things feel right now, we have more in common if we would all lead with kindness and open-mindedness,” Mattson said. “The more you read the more empathetic you become.”
Mitzi's Books, Rapid City, SD
If Polenz’s and Mattson’s stories suggest that a bookstore is a solid investment, Mitzi’s Books in Rapid City, South Dakota proves it. Mary Ackland, the retail manager, was not alone in the creation, though she has been there since its beginning in 2013. The store was built by Ray Hillenbrand, who also founded Prairie Edge and Main Street Square, and named it after his sister, Mitzi, who passed away before the grand opening.
Mitzi’s Books resembles a bookstore from a movie. Just through the towering front door, carpeted stairs lead to a balcony that houses the nonfiction section. On the ground floor, shelves filled with colorful books draw customers back to the children’s section, where a mural of a green dragon watches over young readers.
While books are the primary merchandise in the store, Mitzi’s Books also sells jewelry, art and soaps among other things.
Ackland has loved reading since she was a child. She remembers her parents sitting in their bed reading books, and keeping plenty of books around the house for her to read as well.
“That’s where the love comes from–at home,” Ackland said.
She always liked the idea of working in a bookstore, but the number of people who want to be employed by a bookstore usually is far greater than the number of bookish job openings, so she had little initial success.
“Usually the way you get in is if you know somebody,” Ackland said. “I just never thought I’d be able to.”
But then the Borders bookstore in Rapid City hired her to open their cafe, as she had restaurant experience, and running the cafe included working with books. A few months before Borders went out of business, she was hired by Mitzi’s to help open and has been there since.
Though Ackland once doubted that she would get a bookstore job, she’s been in the book business for 25 years–long enough to know what title someone is looking for when they describe a certain purple book cover.
There are several book clubs that order their books through Mitzi’s and many more regular customers who frequent the store so often Ackland can suggest their next read before they give her any particulars.
“That’s what’s really nice about it being a smaller store,” Ackland said. “You get more of a sense of community.”
This community also includes the five employees, who love talking about books with each other and put out book recommendations for customers.
“When you read a book, you want to talk to someone about it, and it’s even better if they read too,” Ackland said.
Among various concerns, Ackland doesn't believe that reading is dying in the middle of this digital age.
She sees families enter the store every day, families where parents love reading and are doing their best to help their children to love reading as well.
“You probably just don’t see it as much as it actually happens,” Ackland said. “I think a lot more people need to read, but I think people still do it.”
Is reading important? All three women had similar answers: every book gives a glimpse into other people’s stories, and hearing other people’s stories expands a person’s thinking.
Mattson gave the example of Jodi Picoult and Jennifer Finney Boylan’s story Mad Honey. While the book was sad, she loved it because it broadened her perspective.
“I was able to learn things about my friends who are transgender that it would never have occurred to me to ask them,” Mattson said. “If I had asked them it would have been insensitive. So by reading that I gained a new perspective that now I bring with me to relationships that are really important to me.”
Mattson learned how to approach every person and their story with gentleness, and she wants to give people that experience.
“How boring would life be if everybody you knew was exactly like you?” Mattson said. “I also think it’s a false assumption to think that just because you’re in the company of people you have a lot in common with that they are really just like you. There is always more to the story than you would expect.”
Polenz also pointed out that reading is an escape, and for her, a meditation.
“When you’re meditating, you’re letting your thoughts go and not hanging onto anything,” Polenz said. “Just kind of watching the clouds float by, and that’s how it is when I’m reading. I’m so immersed in that book that there are no other thoughts in there.”
Ackland and Polenz and Mattson aren’t just selling paper and glue, they’re selling stories. And people want to participate in this exchange. That’s why Everybody’s Bookstore has been in business since 1995, Mitzi’s Books has thrived since 2011, and Henry’s Books had such a grand opening in the summer of 2024.
People want to read, and they want to read physical books because that is a special experience in itself.
“I don’t think there’s anything like the experience of cracking open a book,” Ackland said. “It’s the whole thing–it’s the smell, it’s the anticipation of it. You don’t get that reading on your phone.”
And, as Polenz pointed out, physical books still work when there’s no electricity.
“I don’t want to go all apocalypse here,” Polenz said. “But I’m going to have a good collection of books myself–just in case.”
Once when Polenz was in school at Black Hills State University, the electricity went out because of a blizzard. Unperturbed, she curled up by the gas heater near the window, and read.
“Everybody's like ‘what are we gonna do!’ and I was like, ‘I have some books, please calm down.’”
Ponder Magazine would also like to thank the Black Hills State University College of Liberal Arts, Office of Marketing & Communications, Office of Admissions, Business Office, As well as the individuals and businesses interviewed and featured in this issue of Ponder.
