When Is a Pond Not a Pond?When It's a Gravel Pit

When you hear the words "gravel pit," chances are you think of Fred Flintstone operating a brontosaurus bulldozer and excavating boulders from a dry, dusty quarry. That's what I think of, anyway.

So people probably wonder why I call the pond near our house a gravel pit. That's what Mike and his parents call it. So that's what I call it.

The Story of the Gravel Pit
The pond started out as a Flintstone-like gravel pit. In the 1980s, contractors who were rebuilding State Highway 56 asked residents if they'd be willing to sell fill in order to provide a base for the road. Mike's parents, who lived on 40 acres at the time, obliged. Gravel was dug out from a five-acre area. The excavation went below the water table, creating a spring-fed gravel pit.

The spring-fed gravel pit near our house.

If you go wading in the water off the main beach, you'll follow a long, long slope where the water gradually gets knee high, then chest high, then shoulder high. That's the driveway where the trucks entered the pit to collect gravel and sand. But at any moment, the water depth can plunge to 15 feet. One old-school fisherman says some parts of the gravel pit are 65 feet deep. But the jury is still out on that one.

If Jerry can make it to the top
of the bluff, he's in good shape.

The topsoil that was taken off the sand and gravel was bulldozed and bermed into a 25-foot-high bluff. It provides a "Rocky"-type workout for my dog Jerry. If he can make it all the way up to the top, he's in good shape. Lately he's able to make it up only halfway, as he's been out of commission for a couple of weeks. He stepped on a piece of glass on a secluded trail at the pit and cut an artery in his foot. So I confine his romps to the main beach.

The Gravel Pit Changes Owners
Locals still refer to the gravel pit as "Maricles' Pond," even though the land changed hands some 30 years ago. Mike's parents sold 25 acres of their land to the DNR for $9,000 -- a decent price back in the day. The DNR was interested in turning the land into a WMA, or  Wildlife Management Area, a place to preserve wildlife and provide public access to fishing and hunting. Mike's parents sold because the gravel pit had become a headache: loud parties, drug deals, dangerous characters. Also, the DNR pointed out that Mike's parents would be liable for any injuries.

And when you mix beer and bodies of water, an accident is waiting happen.

Shortly after the sale a guy backed his pickup to the water's edge, dove off the truck bed into the water, and hit his head on a rock. He was temporarily paralyzed. Mike's parents would have been on the hook had they still owned the land.

The Gravel Pit Gets Trashed

Members of Triton High School E.A.R.T.H.:
Environmental Awareness and Responsibility at Triton High.

Broken glass and empty cans aren't the only things partiers leave behind. Over the years, people have used the WMA as an unceremonious dumping ground for flat-screen TVs and computer monitors. In June, students from Triton High School's E.A.R.T.H. Patrol  collected 12 bags of trash and a truckload of old electronics. On a recent hot dry day, a woman who brought her dog for a swim noticed the fire pit was smoldering. She doused the fire pit, then disposed of the bag of trash I had picked up. So there is hope.

Maricles' Pond Is Minnesota's Pond
The 25 acres of land no longer belongs to our family, but technically it does. It belongs to all Minnesotans. And we all have an obligation to preserve it. If I ever win the lottery, I'll buy back the land from the DNR. Until then, when I drive on State Highway 56, I'm satisfied knowing that our gravel is providing the foundation.


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The Little Post Office thatRoared: and Was Heard

Author's note: This post has been corrected to read that the Bruno post office is not closing, but is staying open with decreased hours. I apologize for the error. 

It isn't every day that the town of Kerrick, Minnesota is mentioned on National Public Radio. But there it was in the news, the east-central Minnesota town of sixty-plus residents. Yesterday the Postmaster General reversed his decision about closing rural post offices. And small towns like Kerrick and Bruno are celebrating.

The victory isn't a complete one. The Bruno and Kerrick post offices will stay open for four hours instead of the hoped-for six. But they will still be a wellness checkpoint for seniors who gather there every morning.


The preservation of rural post offices is a classic David-and-Goliath story. If little towns like Kerrick and Bruno can make the Postmaster General reverse a decision, no obstacle is too big or no opponent too formidable.

Terri Stadin, Kerrick's "Post Officer-in-Charge."

People say they value things like small-town living, tight-knit communities, and the ability for older adults to live at home rather than nursing facilities.  Keeping rural post offices open accomplishes all three, at a cost of one percent of the post office budget, according to Debra Stadin, who organized a petition drive to save the Kerrick post office.

To generate revenue, perhaps the post office could partner with a company like Studio 56 to create tabletop collectibles of rural post offices. I can picture the Kerrick post office displayed on a mantel.

Listen to the NPR story here. Follow the blog sand creek almanac by Deb Sewell of Bruno for stories of the good life in east central Minnesota -- made even better by the preservation of rural post offices.

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Give Up My Pharmacist? Never!

Tom Sengupta, owner of Schneider Drug in Minneapolis.

When deciding on a health plan, most people choose the plan that lets them keep their doctor or dentist. My choice was determined by whether I could keep my pharmacist: Tom Sengupta, owner of Schneider Drug in Minneapolis.

In the past 15 years I've lived in Minneapolis, in east central Minnesota, and in southeast Minnesota. I've been a customer of Schneider Drug for the entire time, the last 11 years by mail. Comparatively, I'm a newbie; some of Tom's customers have been coming to his store for over 40 years.

It's been difficult for medical and insurance professionals to understand why I visit a pharmacist who is 70 miles away. A specialist at Olmsted Clinic in Rochester asked if I wanted to switch pharmacists, and was probably surprised at my defiant "No!"

I checked with an insurance specialist about whether Schneider Drug was a participating pharmacy. "You live in Dodge Center?," the person asked.

A cornerstone of Minneapolis's
Prospect Park neighborhood. 

"Yes."

"And Schneider Drug is in Minneapolis?"

"Yes."

"Is it a compound pharmacy?"

"I don't know what that is," I admitted.

"A pharmacy where they make the medications," the insurance specialist explained.

"No. It's just a store where they give excellent customer service."

"Oh."

An Ask-Your-Pharmacist Type of Pharmacist

You won't find toys like these
in a big-box drug store.

I discovered Schneider Drug in 1996, when I worked in the Prospect Park neighborhood of Minneapolis. I was pregnant, needed to buy maternity vitamins, and wanted to find a store within walking distance. Schneider Drug fit the bill, with the added benefit of having a retro 1960s feel. Years later, when I'd come in with my son Wyatt, Tom would give him pennies for the gumball machine or a special price on a small toy. Whenever Mike and I were unsure of which cold medicine to purchase, we'd say, "Let's ask Tom." When the best purchase was no purchase, Tom would say so. He'd remind me of when blood tests were due, or explain when formulary (brand name) drugs could be safely replaced by generic drugs.

The Politics of Healthcare

A young Hubert H. Humphrey helped
out at Schneider Drug before Tom owned it.

If you’re a person whose shopping decisions are guided by progressive values, you probably already know about Schneider Drug -- a store where a young Hubert H. Humphrey sometimes helped out at, according to Liz Riggs in this fascinating article. Tom Sengupta is an advocate for universal health care and regularly holds town hall meetings. Back in the 1990s, visiting politicians would ask U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone about health care in Minnesota. Wellstone would tell them, “Ya gotta talk to Tom.” A Wellstone! sign is still prominent in Tom's store.

In 2004, Democratic Presidential candidate Bill Bradley phoned Sengupta while Tom was waiting on a customer. Sengupta apologized and said he had to put Bradley on hold; the candidate understood. The idea of the less-than-dynamic Bradley on hold makes me chuckle. But it's absolutely indicative of Tom's customer-first work ethic. 

One time back in the 1990s I had forgotten to call in my refill,  and Schneider Drug was closed. So I stopped at the Target pharmacy on Broadway in north Minneapolis, where I lived. I showed the pharmacist the empty bottle so he knew where the prescription had been previously filled.

"Schneider Drug. Are they still open?," the Target pharmacist asked.

Paul Wellstone's politics are alive at Schneider Drug.

The next time I was in Tom's store, I mentioned the exchange at Target. As I left the store with my purchase, Tom called after me, "You tell Target we're still here. And we're going to be here for a long time." It was the only time I saw that gentle man's ire up.

The Broadway Target closed in 2003. Schneider Drug is still going strong.

My Pharmacist? You Bet!
I try to avoid referring to service professionals as "my mechanic" or my this or that because they're not possessions. But with Tom Sengupta, I make an exception. Someday Tom will retire. Someday I will have an emergency and will need a same-day prescription. When that day comes, I'll find a local pharmacy. Until then, Tom Sengupta of Schneider Drug is my pharmacist.

Read Liz Riggs' Bridgeland News article about Schneider Drug here. And listen to an NPR story by Michael May below:



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The Sun Doesn't Shine on This Kentucky Therapy Home

What's not to love about this house?
A Kentucky homeowners association begs to differ.
Photo  by Laura Zimmerman, KTSM News Channel 9.

Paula Lee Bright posted this story on Facebook about a Kentucky family forced by its homeowners association to remove a playhouse from their backyard. The custom-made house was used as a therapy house for the family's three-year-old son, who has cerebral palsy.

The story prompted me to think of three things:

• Can the Americans with Disabilities Act be invoked? Or are homeowners associations immune from the act?
• That playhouse is pretty darn cute, much nicer than the garish playsets you see in just about every backyard. 
• The playhouse reminded me of a story about Jeanie Mellem from Bloomington, Minnesota. She wanted the city to allow Bloomington residents to keep backyard chickens. Jeanie compiled photos of chicken coops that would earn Martha Stewart's seal of approval, to show city fathers that chicken coops weren't ramshackle buildings straight out of Bugtussle. 

I hope a lawyer takes up this case. Denying therapy to a family with a special-needs child is the first step. What's next? Not allowing families with special-needs children to move into homeowners associations?

Watch the news story here. Follow Paula Lee Bright and Jeanie Mellem on Facebook.

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The Little Post Office that Roared

The Kerrick Post Office in east central Minnesota is on the list of 3700+ small post offices nationwide to be shut down. On November 3, over 90 people -- more than the population of Kerrick itself, which is 79 -- crowded into the Duquette Hall to make their case to USPS representatives. I learned about the meeting via Colette Stadin, editor of the local weekly paper, the Askov American. I wasn't able to attend but wished I had. The meeting was an example of democracy in action.

When a little post office roars -- or more accurately, the people who rely on the little post office -- news travels far. Duluth's Fox News station was there. Watch here.

Duluth is only 35 miles or so from Kerrick and 33 miles from Duquette. But when you're a mere "wide spot in the road," as Duquette General Store owner Curtis Gunderson put it, 35 miles is light-years away.

According to Stadin, among the people at the Duquette meeting were State Senator Tony Lourey and a representative from U.S. Senator Amy Klobuchar's office. One of the solutions put forth by the USPS, says Stadin, is to "bank by carrier." Residents could buy postage stamps and such by leaving the money in a brightly colored envelope for the mail carrier to pick up. Citizens at the meeting immediately pointed out the potential for drive-by theft from rural residents who are already on a fixed income.

In this time of budget cuts, is saving the Kerrick Post Office a lost cause? Maybe, maybe not. But when a little town catches the ear of the U.S. government -- or even a city of 80,000 thirty-five miles away -- it did more than try. It roared.

Watch the Fox 21 News story by Jeremy Scott and photojournalist Kristian Tharaldson.
Subscribe to the Askov American by calling 320-838-3151.


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Stepping Out on My Mechanic

Out of all the million little changes associated with moving, finding a new mechanic is one of the most traumatic.

A good mechanic knows your vehicle inside and out better than you do. A good mechanic saves you money and earns your trust and loyalty. A good mechanic doesn’t come along every day.

Denny Molgaard, my Dodge Neon, and my husband Mike. 

Denny Molgaard at the Bruno Deep Rock has done all my oil changes since 2000. Under his care my 1996 Saturn would have hit 300,000 miles had a sprinting deer not hit it first. And he continued to service my 2003 Dodge Neon with expertise and care.

So finding someone new was a huge change.

While washing and drying blankets at the Mega Express Laundry in Rochester, I found a newspaper coupon for an oil change at a place called Quick Lane. Armed with my Garmin, I headed over, fully expecting a lecture. You really should think about replacing this car. Washing it every now and then will extend the life of it.

All the guy found was a burned-out license plate bulb and brake rotors with plenty of life left but with grooves worn in.

“For a car with 143,000 miles, it’s in surprisingly good shape,” he said.

“I owe it all to Denny,” I said.

I’m not sure yet if Quick Lane, which is a national franchise, is going to be my go-to service place.  Its four carafes of coffee (two house blend, two breakfast blend) and three types of cappuccino work in its favor. A 1950s-era gas station in a town of 101, the Bruno Deep Rock doesn't serve cappucino, or coffee, or even bad coffee. But they'll be a hard act to follow.

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A Classical Gas Station:The Bruno Deep Rock

The Bruno Deep Rock on State Highway 23, Bruno.

If the guy in your life doesn’t want to stop at the apple orchard on the way to see the fall colors in Duluth, suggest a side trip to Bruno, Minnesota.

The Bruno Deep Rock is a full-service gas station built in 1956. The service area will remind you of your grandfather's garage. The Deep Rock isn't your typical franchise service place, with a carpeted waiting room with a TV and coffeepot. Mechanic Denny Molgaard told me about two couples vacationing from Indiana who stopped at the station. The two women were annoyed because they couldn't tear the guys away from poking around the shop. "You just don't see places like this anymore!," they enthused.

Your grandfather's service area.

The Bruno Deep Rock is full service.

Waiting for the parts guy.

Denny is the mechanic who serviced my 1996 Saturn for over 160,000 miles.The car had plenty of issues, but it was paid for and it still got 35 miles per gallon after 10 years. I attribute that to Denny. I valued his expertise; he valued my business. He went out of his way to save me money on repairs; I went out of my way to bake treats for the shop. This recipe for Chocolate Malted Cookies from A Taste of Home was their favorite.

The Bruno Deep Rock is on State Highway 23 at the corner of County Road 41. The phone number is 320-838-3434.

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Reblog: Remembering Jerry and His "Kids"

For once, a post about Jerry’s Kids that isn’t about a Weimaraner and his adopted puppies. This Labor Day post is a reblog of Downriver Diary by Dan Saad.

Dan’s posts resonate with me because he grew up about five minutes from me in the same industrial suburban area of Detroit. If you were a kid in the 1960s who remembers Jerry Lewis’s Labor Day telethon to cure muscular dystrophy, Dan’s post will resonate with you too.

Enjoy, and enjoy your Labor Day weekend!

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The Tao of Town Laundry

The laundromat is a place that most of us stop patronizing once we graduate from college. In rural areas, it's the place you go for town laundry. Town laundry is the wash you do in town with city water. If you don't have a water filtration system for your well water, and have heavy iron content in the soil, your laundry will slowly but surely turn reddish-beige. After a hard rain, iron is loosened in the soil and a slug of red water will shoot into your washing machine. Usually, it happens when you're taking the chance of washing your favorite town garment just this once at home because you just have to wear it Monday.

Living near the best thrift store in northern Pine County, I can easily replace many items once they get rusty. But some items are irreplaceable. Like my yellow-gray op-art dress I call my That Girl dress. That dress is town laundry. So are my son Wyatt's Aéropostale jeans, though to my way of thinking he could get a pair just as ripped up at the thrift store for much less.

Fluff, Fold, and Reflect
Doing town laundry at the laundromat is a liberating experience because there are no household distractions that pull you away from what you're doing. All you do is fluff, fold, and reflect. There's something about performing simple manual tasks that unleashes deep and free thought.

What's going on in a small town?
Start at the laundromat bulletin board.

Each town laundromat has a different atmosphere. The Sandstone laundromat bulletin board messages cut closest to the bone. ("I need work to feed my family.") The Sturgeon Lake laundromat has the best dryers. And the Moose Lake laundromat has the most eclectic reading selection. Often a laundromat is limited to magazines about crafting and country living. In the Moose Lake laundromat, stacks of magazines I've found include Time, National Geographic, Outdoor Life, and most recently, Lavender.

Moose Lake is a lovely little town of just under 3,000 in Carlton County. If you live in town you're just blocks away from a lake, a library, the K-12 school, a coffee shop with wi-fi, a 1919 movie theater, and a yoga studio. Plus, the houses are as eclectic as the laundromat magazines. You'll find a tidy bungalow next to a sprawling Dutch Colonial next to a museum that was once a church.

I heard a commercial for the DQ next door.

A Casual Connectivity
The Moose Lake oldies FM station is always playing at the laundromat. Today I heard my husband Mike's old boss, WMOZ news director Jake Kachinske, read a commercial for the Dairy Queen that's next door to the laundromat. It was a casual, goes-without-saying connectivity that made perfect sense, but made me marvel when I thought about it.

In the morning, the laundromat bustles, meaning three or four people are doing their laundry. At night, while I'm on chauffeur duty waiting for Wyatt, I'm usually alone, swaying to a Commodores tune from the seventies and not afraid to belt it out:

I wanna be hiiiiigh, so hiiiigh,

I wanna be free to knowww the things I do are riiiiiight...

It's hard not to channel your inner Lionel Richie when you hear those lyrics.

All Is Right in the World
So when I leave the laundromat, all is right in the world. The town laundry is clean and folded. I'm well read. I'm just in time to pick up Wyatt. And there's usually enough change left for a treat at the Dairy Queen. At home, when I do laundry, I'm interrupted by the phone, by TVs blaring, by the clanking of cubes in the ice maker, by the kitchen counter that begs to be cleaned. But when I'm doing town laundry at the laundromat, I'm free. And I know that the things I do are right.


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There's a Free Softservewith Your Dog's Name on It

Tonight is Dogs' Night Out at Blast Softserve in Owatonna, Minnesota. If you live in southeast Minnesota, are in the mood for a road trip, or if you have a hankering to visit the hometown of Owl City, stop on by The Blast with your leashed dog from 5:30 to 6. Soft serve servings are doggy sized so as not to disrupt delicate digestive systems. The event is sponsored by the Owatonna People's Press.

Directions to The Blast are here. 

The Small-Town Post Office:Address Unknown?

If you're a person who still writes letters, you could address a letter to me at Susan Maricle, Bruno, Minnesota, and chances are I'd receive it. 


Because once the letter arrived at the Bruno Post Office from Duluth or the Twin Cities, a postal worker like Bev or Dan would say, "Ohyeah, I know where she lives."

The Bruno Post Office.

Neighbors knowing neighbors makes a post office unique to small towns. The post offices in Kerrick (population 79) and Bruno (population 102) are on the list of 117 Minnesota post offices under consideration for closure. It's not a done deal, as residents are signing petitions and contacting their state legislators. But the fact that specific post offices (I refuse to use the term "retail outlets") have been identified is reason enough to act.

The Kerrick Post Office.

A frequent objection to closing small-town post offices is their significance to senior citizens, their role as a meet-and-greet with old friends before breakfast. If the Kerrick and Bruno post offices close, seniors who rent post-office boxes would have to either switch to at-home delivery or drive to a farther post office. If you're a senior on a limited budget, and are apprehensive about driving on icy winter roads -- Highway 23 can be treacherous -- you've just lost a treasured morning ritual. And the local diner has lost the breakfast income that follows the ritual.


From my own point of view, a small-town post office is a go-to place, a where-do-I, who-do-I, how-do-I place. When I left the Bruno Post Office this morning I ran into Sparky Nelson, who administers the food shelf and volunteers at senior dining. I asked her who I would contact to rent the Bruno Town Hall across the road. She directed me to Doug Blechinger, the mayor who lives down the road. Stand outside in front of a small-town post office with a question. Before long you'll have the answer. 


A Secret Santa and Mike the Mailman
In the event of a post office closure,  those of us with rural route delivery would receive our mail from a more distant post office, perhaps Askov or Wrenshall. I'm sure the postal workers there are great people, but I wouldn't expect them to know everything that goes on in our little corner of east central Minnesota. Like the anonymous benefactor who would buy a small Christmas present for each young child in Bruno. The toys would show up in mailboxes on Christmas Eve with a return address of the North Pole. Or when "Mike the Mailman," as neighbors called him, would leave a dog biscuit in the mailbox at every home on his route where a dog lived.

The Collectible Toy Post Office

Eight miles north on State Highway 23, the Kerrick Post Office resembles a toy building in a collectible tabletop village. Terri Stadin says an older gentleman comes up from the Cities once a month to buy a book of ten stamps because he admires the tiny building with its neatly manicured grounds.

The Kerrick Post Office was fashioned from part of the old Kerrick Hotel in the 1970s, says retired Postmaster John Wenzel. (Wenzel's own home is also a piece of history: it's a refurbished church that you'll recognize if you've seen the movie Iron Will.) 

The bulletin board outside of the post office is another reason why small-town post offices are the go-to place. You'll see notices for free will suppers, informational flyers about utility payment assistance, and assorted business cards. The bulletin board is a 24/7 news service for those who don't have the Internet, and provides local context for people like me who are too busy dashing here and there to notice what's going on.

Address Unknown,  A Connection Lost
The dominoes are slowly but steadily falling. A post office is probably next after a school in giving a town its identity, and Bruno and Kerrick lost their local schools to consolidation long ago. A desire for smaller government can lead to a greater disconnect among neighbors and communities. Is that really the outcome that we want?


Listen to the Minnesota Public Radio report: 

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Titanic and the Economy: We Sink or Swim Together

I was watching Titanic this weekend, the James Cameron pic about the doomed luxury liner, and starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet. I was struck by how the 1912 class passenger system on Titanic mirrored the class economic system today. By the time the first-class passengers realized that the ship was taking on water, the second- and third-class passengers (also known as steerage) had already perished. And by the time the luxury class was aware of the problem, the problem was too far gone to solve.

We sink or swim together. What affects the lowest class eventually affects the highest class. And the problem, whether it's a sinking ocean liner or a postponed solution to a state budget, will be that much greater to solve.

On a related topic, numerous blogs have quoted Minnesota State Representative Mary Kiffmeyer, who believes the reason for Governor Mark Dayton's push for revenue is because "they want to go after those who've actually worked hard." Apparently, Rep. Kiffmeyer believes the wealthy swim -- and the sinking steerage classes have no bearing on them.

I believe individuals "swim together" every time I walk the wooded trails of the 80-acre vacation property across the road. The cabin there is watched by my husband Mike and me to make sure nothing suspicious or malicious takes place. Mike clears out deadwood to remove fire hazards and removes trees that have fallen during a destructive storm. In return, the owners welcome us to pick berries, gather firewood, and enjoy the scenery. Stepping from a five-acre sliver of farm into an eighty-acre wooded expanse results in my best thinking.

Our two families, mine and my neighbor's, share different economic strata but we bring value to each other. Just like upper-class Rose was saved by steerage-class Jack Dawson -- I know, it's a wildly fictional account from an overwrought date movie -- but the message is worth keeping in mind. We sink or swim together. Even if we're traveling on different levels.

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mnpublius.com  SC Times.com   Outstate Politics

All Good Dogs Deserve Ice Cream

I just love this idea: a community event where dog owners get to socialize their pets, and good dogs get rewarded with a free dish of vanilla softserve. An ice cream social for dogs, with people as chaperones. If it's been a hot summer for people, just think of how hot it's been for our pets.

This particular Dogs' Night Out takes place at Blast Softserve in Owatonna, which is about 40 miles from Rochester in southeast Minnesota. The summer event is sponsored by the Owatonna People's Press and is held on the first Tuesday of the month from 5:30 to 6. (Including tonight.) Every well-behaved dog on leash gets a free doggy-sized dish of vanilla soft serve. If you and your dog will be in the area tonight, here's the map.

Does your city or town offer similar socializing opportunities for dogs and their owners?

Foster Home Found for Abandoned Puppies

As sure as God made little blue heelers, when you live in rural Minnesota, count on crossing paths with an abandoned puppy or two or three.

The fact that their savior was located 120 miles away in Chaska was something, however, I’d never counted on.

My husband Mike brought home three puppies that he found on the roadside when he was en route to Cloquet. There was no mother, no people, and no houses -- just empty vacation properties. The puppies were a whitish-yellowish mix of Golden retriever or Yellow Lab. A zaftig little girl and two smaller boys. We made a home for them in an empty 55-gallon fish tank. 

“We’re not going to keep them. We’re not going to name them,” Mike warned me and our 14-year-old son Wyatt.

Jerry's Kids

Of course, we did name them. Jerry’s Kids, as our Weimaraner Jerry took them under his wing. A rescue dog with issues, Jerry was showing the puppies the care he hadn’t received as a pup. It was a lovely moment, but in retrospect not a wise moment. 

Despite abandoned puppies being infectiously cute, they can also be acutely infectious. 

As we put out calls to rescue agencies, we learned that canine parvovirus, a devastating intestinal disease, was rampant. Jerry is fully vaccinated, but apparently there’s a strain of parvo that can make its way past adult vaccines.

Because of a tight budget, keeping even one puppy was out of the question. At a Cloquet rescue agency, we were told to start in Pine County, where we live. Connie at the Pine County Guardian Angel Shelter explained that the shelter was a giant-breed rescue facility and not suited for puppies. She told us we'd be contacted by a woman named Jean, who volunteered at the Carver-Scott Humane Society, a sister agency to the Pine facility. The intricate network made me think of the Twilight Bark from 101 Dalmatians.

Moving Day

Jean called us on a Sunday. She was headed to Albert Lea with a puppy on a pre-adoption visit, and asked if we could drop off the puppies with her husband. Mike arranged to meet him at a strip mall about 20 miles away. The idea of someone driving over 100 miles at a moment's notice to pick up abandoned puppies from total strangers amazed me.

Pine County isn’t affluent. In rural areas like ours, it’s not unusual for pets to be euthanized with a bullet to the brain, a practice which I realize sounds barbaric. But when an owner is faced with a suffering animal, a veterinary clinic that’s closed or is fifty miles away, and a treatment bill beyond their affordability, it’s the most merciful alternative.

Jean explained that the puppies would be given a health check, microchipping and spaying or neutering. She would provide a foster home until they were adopted at a Pet Adoption Day at the PETCO store in Chaska. Adoption sales help CSHS raise revenue, as do donor contributions and an annual walk.  The agency receives no government funds.

Jean explained that she’s been volunteering for four years, and has fostered several hundred dogs and puppies. She said she’s driven to Wisconsin to place a puppy, and her sister-in-law drove halfway to Colorado to deliver a staghound to the man who was adopting it.

As I worked on a huge writing project, I tried not to get irritated by the whining and yapping. The big female puppy, who we eventually named Bertha, tried to climb out of the fish tank. There was a piece of plywood on top of the tank and Bertha knocked it to the floor. At the sound of the noise, Jerry barked loudly. The puppies cowered. I imagined the conversation: “All right you guys, knock it off!” “I didn’t do it! She did it!”

But when the puppies were gone, the house seemed eerily quiet. Even Jerry walked over to the fish tank to see where his charges were.

A Clean Bill of Health

On Tuesday night I called Jean. Thankfully, the puppies tested negative for parvo, but they did have worms and numerous tick bites. Jean is fostering them until they find homes at a Pet Adoption Day. There’s one coming up on May 7.

Minnesota has a huge network of animal rescue groups. Start at the humane society or rescue agency in your county. If that group can't help, they'll connect you to someone who can, like the Guardian Angel Animal Shelter in Pine City or Red Lake Rosie’s Rescue. 

While politics creates rural/metro divides, puppies help bridge them. As do the  volunteers who give of their hearts and weekends. You give hope to pet lovers and Minnesotans everywhere.

The Carver-Scott Humane Society's 2011 Walk Fur Love  is Sunday, May 22. Raffle prizes include a 40" LCD HD TV, $200 in gift certificates, and a Blu-Ray DVD player. You need not be present to win.


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Ads and Sales and Puppydog Tails

You Can't Beat Fresh Eggs

How confused the hens must be of late, with one day's temperature being in the fifties and the next day's temp in the teens. But if the hens' egg production is any indication, spring is here to stay.

Dare I say it? The long winter of snow, slush, and store-bought eggs is coming to an end.

Check out this photo by blogger/musician/biologist Deborah Sewell. "I can almost see the Omega 3's," she writes.

Read Deb's  Sand Creek Almanac  post,  "Egg Comparison."

Photo copyright Deborah Sewell

Cheapskates and Cheap Steaks

I like the word "cheapskate." It's got the snap of a fresh green bean, and it carries a sense of pride when you self disclose, though that's not always the case when you're described by others as cheap.

When my 14-year-old was a little guy he pronounced the word "cheapskate" as "cheap steak," which I like even more. There's nothing that better conveys a sense of cheap than a cheap steak: tough, thin, gristly, mottled in color and flavor. Ironically, Cheap Steak is also the name of an iPhone app. Wyatt says he wants royalties.

I've been enjoying the blog of Northern Cheapskate, as we both live in areas of Minnesota where frugality isn't a choice but a mandate. You don't have the option of pricing a loaf of bread at the Rainbow five minutes from your house, then going down the block and finding a better price at Cub. Go to the intersection in town and there's one gas station, not three. So you learn to shop frugally and strategically. Where to look, when to shop, what to grab and what to pass up. In my neck of the woods, you pay over five bucks for an 18-ounce box of cornflakes at the general store. But a roll of Necco wafers is 99 cents compared to The Vermont Country Store price of $1.69 (not including shipping).

It's hard to talk about the economy in this country because everyone has their own definition of what it means to be frugal or in need. It can mean living on $1,000, ten dollars, or in the hypothetical case of John McCain, living in one house. In 2010, a family of three making $18,310 a year was considered poor, according to U.S. poverty guidelines. Our family made more than that last year. But between that figure and $18,310 are enough shades of need to fill a Crayola box: Pinched, Stretched, Mighty Uncomfortable, World of Hurt.

No matter what baseline figure you're working with, everyone wants to save money. Northern Cheapskate will help you do that. You'll find coupons, giveaways, freebies for the kids, gardening, organizing on a budget. And of course, great ways to cook a cheap steak.

Note: The continuum of need stretches to where many of us can't even see. Social networks are raising awareness. Indy is a homeless single mother who lives with her two kids in a minivan that needs a new transmission. If you can help, donations are being collected through April 11. Thank you. 

Don't Throw Away That Pickle Juice -- and Other Frugal Fifties Hints

“Mom, these berries taste iffy,” my teenage son Wyatt said of the strawberries softening in the fridge.

“That’s okay, I’ll make them into a smoothie,” I said.

“Mom!,” Wyatt admonished.

“What you are witnessing is a new generation of Depression parent,” I explained.

I grew up in a blue-collar family in a working-class suburb of Detroit. My mom was a Depression-era mom: saving string in a ball, reusing aluminum foil, recycling boxes Christmas after Christmas. My dad worked at the Ford Rouge plant, located at the confluence of the Rouge and Detroit Rivers. The weekly employee newspaper was the Rouge News, which in its heyday had a circulation of nearly 90,000. The women’s section had a column called “Cutting Corners,” which featured the household tips of wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters of Ford employees.

Eventually, the hints were collected in a book. My mom punched a hole in her copy and hung it from a string on a hook by the kitchen sink. I keep the book in the same place in my house today. The cover is gone and so is the copyright date, but it’s from the 1950s, judging by the artwork in the book. 

Don’t Throw Away That Pickle Juice

Cleaning a lampshade? Removing a stain from a felt hat? Fixing a cracked vase? The Ford housewives had a better idea. When something wore out, they couldn’t take the car and run out to Wal-Mart and buy another one. Even if they had a second car, or a Wal-Mart, their Depression-era sensibilities wouldn’t have permitted them the extravagance. 

Some hints from the cooking section:

• When you have emptied your catsup bottle, rinse it with a bit of vinegar and use this in your dressing for salad, This is especially good when added to French dressing, says Mrs. Gene Peron.

• Mrs. James Ward has a helpful hint concerning burnt toast. Instead of throwing it away or scraping it with a knife, try rubbing it on a grater. The burnt spots will disappear and so will the burnt flavor.

• Sandra Wenner suggests saving the waxed bags in which gelatin and puddings are packaged. She says they make handy leak-proof containers for lunch box pickles or other juicy foods.

• Mrs. Ralph Campbell says she never throws the sweet pickle juice away when the pickles have been eaten. She uses the vinegar juice in mayonnaise for potato and vegetable salads. It adds zest to the salads and also helps to save on mayonnaise.

Remnants of Gracious Living

The book publishes the household hints exactly as they appeared in the Rouge News, with the household address and the division in which the husband (or son or brother) worked. Today, some of those addresses are more than likely vacant. For that matter, entire neighborhoods of Detroit are gone. This book provides a glimpse of Detroit as a city of prosperity and gracious living, with marquisette curtains and embroidered dresser scarves and gleaming mahogany furniture. (Mrs. M.J. Polakowski cleaned hers with cold tea to keep it looking new.)

I realize that not all women in the 1950s lived the life of June Cleaver or Donna Reed. Abuse and addiction were closeted, abuse considered the husband’s prerogative, addiction stifled by stigma. Some women must have been bored silly, wanting to be the breadwinners instead of waxing book covers to make them easier to dust. But what these women did was important. They were the ultimate multitaskers, the first frugalistas, the forerunners of Martha Stewart.

Today the Ford Rouge plant is the Ford Rouge Center. It comprises 600 acres instead of 2,000 and employs about 6,000 people instead of its zenith of 100,000. Its eco-friendly architecture includes a green roof. The Ford housewives would undoubtedly approve of such thriftiness. They’d also agree that iffy strawberries make spiffy smoothies.

What frugalities do we practice today that will make our kids and grandkids say, “Can you BELIEVE they did that?”

Online 101: What I’ve Learned About e-Learning

In the week that my 14-year-old has been attending online school as an alternative to a three-hour roundtrip bus ride, I’ve learned a lot about online learning.

No matter how computer-savvy you think you are, you won’t get the hang of the system overnight. Especially if you’re a Mac person navigating a system that was probably designed by a PC person.

Online school requires a different mindset. The markers that give you breathing space in a brick-and-mortar school—semester breaks, inservice trainings, weekends—don’t necessarily exist in online school. Plan your work accordingly and you’ve got a free weekend. If you need to play catchup, the virtual school doors don’t swing shut on Saturdays and Sundays.

Online school isn’t going away. Researchers from Harvard have predicted that half of all high-school courses could be online by 2019.

Online school isn’t a hands-off proposition for parents. Attendance monitor, lunch lady, and PE aide are some of the roles that you play. Checking student progress through the parent portal. Making sure the student breaks up computer time with physical activity. And preparing two more meals a day that you didn’t before. When filling out the initial paperwork, I was surprised to see the application for reduced-price meals that parents see every year. (This information, I learned, is used to determine school funding.)

“What kind of reduced-price meals are served in an online school?,” I wondered.

“Spam,” said Wyatt, who wants to be a standup comic.

Like online anything in its infancy, online education gets the fisheye from people. Back in the 1990s online dating was considered for losers. Today, match.com and eHarmony have over 29 million and 9 million members respectively. Not that I’m comparing education to dating. But the similarity is this: what was once considered unseemly eventually becomes mainstream.

Controlling costs of education is a hot topic in state politics. During the Gubernatorial debate at the State Fair last September 3, Republican candidate Tom Emmer floated the idea of specializing university offerings by geographic locations: medical careers in Rochester and public safety in Fergus Falls, for example. (The actual words are at 26:22.) Emmer didn’t win. But a lot of candidates who might agree with Emmer did.

Former Minnesota Governor Tim Pawlenty has frequently touted the idea of “iCollege.” But iCollege can’t serve the entire state without iBroadband. Independence Party candidate Tom Horner was an advocate of statewide broadband access. I hope it’s an issue that Governor Dayton takes up.

At the end of Wyatt's first week my husband Mike took him and his buddy Damion to a movie in Hinckley, followed by a stop at DQ. The movie was a comedy, Paul, a fun way to unwind after a sometimes-trying week. 

This summer our family will be moving to southeast Minnesota. Wyatt will finish out this school year online, and next fall will be attending a school that’s six miles away instead of 18 miles away. He's looking forward to it. For now, online school is filling a niche that needed filling. And it's a learning experience for all of us.