Wednesday, December 26, 2007

A Christmas morning snow globe

I collect music boxes and many in my collection are snow globes. Those in my collection hold little tiny pieces of sentiment. I have one that holds a snowmen, one a mother and a child, another a father and daughter dancing a waltz, another of a ballerina in toe shoes, another an ice skater on a frozen pond, and one simply a butterfly. One is a city landscape, and one is a cabin in the woods. Others are scenes from favorite movies, and others seem to have no reason. Each one individually is special but if you put them all together, they are tiny little pieces of my life. Each one is special.

Looking at them sitting on the shelf they are pretty. If you turn them upside down to swirl the snow, something magical happens and watching the snow puts my heart at ease.

Christmas morning I took my dogs for a walk in the woods. It was quiet. Silence surrounded me except for the squeaking of the snow beneath my boots as I walked. And the occasional jingling of the dog tags of my companions. And then it started to snow. A flake here and there. As I continued walking in the comfort of the quiet the snow picked up — big fluffy flakes that seemed to sometimes gently swirl.

I stopped and the dogs stopped. We just listened to the silence. And enjoyed a moment in a Christmas morning snow globe of our very own.

Friday, December 21, 2007

Christmas magic

I admit I am addicted to the Hallmark channel at Christmastime. I cannot get enough of those sappy Christmas movies that are often less than "B" quality. I watch as many as I can, usually with tissues nearby just in case a tear appears. Actually, who am I kidding — I cry during Coke commercials.

Perhaps the reason I love those movies so much is because they each have a special message of some kind of wonder, love, peace, magic, miracles, or hope that Christmas brings.

Maybe it is the journalist in me that continues to look for solid proof that something exists. Every year, I struggle with Christmas a little bit, trying to find proof of magic and miracles. Sometimes, just when I think I found it, the proof is snapped away by harsh reality as though someone switched from the Hallmark channel to CNN.

This week while in journalist mode I came across a story of a house fire. Not just a house fire, but one where arson is suspected and a suspect has been arrested. (See this weeks paper.) The reporter in me knows there is a history between several neighbors along that particular street. Watching the Sheriff's report every week, one can't help but notice the violence appears to be escalating in an around that particular neighborhood.

The house that burned down was somebody's home. In fact, it belonged to a family. Perhaps, not the perfect "Leave it to Beaver" family everyone hopes to read about at Christmas, but it is a family. And there were two small boys, ages 1 and 2, living in that house. Nobody was home when the fire started and no injuries were reported. It was one week before Christmas.

Learning of the family, I imagined those little boys waiting in anticipation for the arrival of Santa. Gifts had been purchased by the family. Some were perhaps wrapped and under the tree. Other gifts hidden in a closet to be marked from Santa.

Then, in a flash, pun intended, everything is gone. The hopes and wonder of Christmas for those two little boys — gone.

One week before Christmas I was looking for magic and wonder and instead found arson and children living in a hotel. Whether the parents of those boys are perfect or not perfect — innocent or not innocent — shouldn't be an issue. Whether they really bought — and then lost — presents for the kids or not, shouldn't be a question. The fact remains, the house that was once a home for those two little boys and their family home, is gone. All that they believed was a safe place to be is gone.

I saw friends and family members of the family affected by the fire, including the mother, working in the kitchen at the community center last Friday, making Indian tacos and selling them for a fundraiser — their own fundraiser. At first this struck me as odd, but when the mother of the boys told me everything was gone due to the fire and they were just trying to get enough to buy Christmas gifts, my heart went out to them. When I told others of the fundraiser, I was met with varied reactions. Many people could not see beyond the obvious history of the families involved to see the innocence of the little kids caught in the cross-fire.

We all want something special for Christmas. I don't mean just toys for the kids, or a new coffee machine, or a cordless drill or even something sparkly that comes in a little velvet box. Because it is not what is in the packages or whether or not you even get a package, that matters. It is the feeling you get in your heart simply knowing that someone thought of you. And that feeling is returned at least two-fold when you give to others and it comes from your heart. Helping others in any way, will help your heart grow “three times.”

Maybe because it is Christmas and I watch all of those sappy movies that seep into my soul that I begin to expect, or hope, or search, for a miracle or hope or wonder to come out of the sky and hit me like a bolt of lightening, or an angel come to visit, or hear the ringing of a bell. The realist in me says that is really not going to happen. Yet, I still look. I am still looking for magic. And miracles.

Albert Einstein said, "There are two ways to live life. One is as though nothing is a miracle, the other is as though everything is a miracle." There are many things in the universe I believe in, even though I cannot see them, or touch them. I believe in miracles. I believe in Christmas. I believe in Jesus. And I believe in Santa Claus. And I am still looking for that Christmas miracle, magic, hope and wonder. Maybe, just maybe, the answer is that sometimes you don't need to know the answer.

“And he puzzled three hours, 'til his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! 'Maybe Christmas,' he thought, 'doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas … perhaps … means a little bit more!' “ (How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Dr. Seuss, 1957 )

I know that the tears will run down my checks tonight as I sing Silent Night. I know that special feeling will hit me like a lightening bolt when I light that candle tonight at the candlelight service at church. I will say a prayer for those two little boys and their family and many other people as well. I know that the Spirit of Christmas will surround me and I will hold that in my heart as long as I can.

Peace and Merry Christmas.
"God bless us everyone."

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Santa should be fat and say "Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Christmas is a magical time of year filled with joy and peace and goodwill. Santa Claus and baby Jesus and twinkling stars give people of hope.

But some people are taking the whole politically correct thing a little too far, and a little too seriously.

The Garrison City Council can decorate the streets with lights, but they can’t call them Christmas decorations. They have to call them “seasonal” decorations.

The Surgeon General thinks Santa should go on a diet and exercise program and watch his cholesterol and check for diabetes.

Instructors at an Australian Santa school instructed all of the Santas-in-training they could no longer say “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

I don’t know about you, but I like to call them as I see them.

Those are Christmas decorations in Garrison. There is a nativity scene and a Santa.

Santa should be fat — “a right jolly old elf whose belly shook like a bowl full of jelly.”
Ever tired to jiggle a skinny elf with 6-pack abs? That is just wrong.

The reason the new would-be Santas were told not to say ho ho ho was that it might scare children and could be considered derogatory to women. Instead, they were instructed to say, “Ha! Ha! Ha!”

OK, come on, people. Santa has been saying ho ho ho for centuries. If certain business entrepreneurs are offended by the use of the word “ho” perhaps they are taking their job a little too seriously. Or they should just get a new job.

As for scaring children, I think that is a pile of crap. Little kids are scared of a lot of life-size characters that do not look like real people. Take a look at Smokey the Bear, The Eater Bunny, Ronald McDonald, the Jolly Green Giant (I think he says ho, ho, ho, too!) Goldy Gopher (Who is up for an award for best college mascot, btw) — those characters and more seem like they could be a little more intimidating to toddlers than Santa. At least Santa brings presents and eats cookies and milk.

Santa cares about kids behavior. He wants them all to be nice to each other — not naughty. sure, he uses bribery to get kids to be nice, but what parent hasn’t used that technique at least once? (“I will let you have a cookie if you eat all of your beans.” Sound familiar?)

It appears some people are so afraid of offending someone, or some group they say the wrong thing anyway.
Sure there are certain words and phrases that are clearly derogatory and have been dissed from our American language with good reason.

Santa is probably about 2,000 years old. He probably weighs about 260 pounds. I would argue that if he is delivering toys to children all over the world, spreading peace and joy along the way in a 12 to 24 hour period, he has got to be in good shape!
So what if he needs a little energy boost along the way with a few cookies for instant energy and some wholesome milk to wash it down.

At least he is not on steroids and energy drinks spiked with vodka to keep him laughing.

Christmas is a magical time. Please enjoy the season.
Peace.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Surprise! Another celebrity

Ok, so I know this is beginning to sound like ET, but it just worked out that way.
Last week, I had the opportunity to meet yet another celebrity. The actual story will appear in the Dec. 19 issue of the printed version of the Mille Lacs Messenger, but I just want to give you a little heads up and hint of what is to come.



I actually did get a one-on-one interview with Adam Beach. Here's what happened. He was visiting the Nay Ah Shing school giving a highly motivational speach to the kids. Afterwards, he was very down to earth and approachable. As he waiting patiently for everyone who wanted to, to pose with him and take their picture (I never knew so many people had cell phones with cameras!) I pulled out the infamous journalist question: "Excuse me, Mr. Beach? I just have one more question, if I may?"

To my surprise, he said, "Just one? How about we grab a cup of coffee and chill for a while?"

So we did.
He takes his coffee black, with a couple sugar packets.



Read all about it in next weeks Mille Lacs Messenger!

p.s. - He really is just a normal nice guy! And a little shy.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Marie Osmond - Magic of Christmas



I was fortunate to be able to go to the Marie Osmond concert at Mille Lacs Grand Casino last Thursday night. She was an idol of mine when I was growing up. I would watch the Donny and Marie show every chance I could and sing along. I bought at least one album and sang along to every song. Of course I had my hairbrush for a microphone and the couch, or a chair was my stage. But, I could sing Paper Roses just like she did. (In my mind of course!)

So, the Marie Osmond "Magic of Christmas" show was pure magic. It was so fun to see her perform. I had gone to the second show that night, so I was surprised she held her energy level to the very end. Her voice, however, was starting to give in slightly towards the end, but all in all, she was wonderful.

While she sang a variety of songs — some old, some new, some Christmas of course, some Broadway — which were all excellent, what I enjoyed most was that she became a real person. Her charming personality was as brilliant as the North Star, yet she appeared to remain grounded. She was real.

She talked between numbers about her family, her brothers (those cute Osmond brothers!), her divorce, her kids (all 8 of them!) and her parents. She also mentioned her appearance on "Dancing with the Stars" where she finished in third place. She said her brother donny took that third place in lieu of first, harder than she did. I am a fan of dancing with the Stars, and I have to admit, I was one of the millions of fans that voted for her every week.

I am proud of her like she was my sister, almost. And in some ways she is. Like a sister.

Marie Osmond is a vibrant 48-year-old woman who has been through a lot in her life. Regardless of being a young pop star growing up in a famous family, she has had her share of "real life." She has experienced happiness and joy as well as deep sadness of love lost and the loss of parents. She has issues with her skirt stretching out and pantyhose problems, just like every body else.

I believe she gives encouragement to women over 40 all over the country. Probably all over the world. I spoke to a woman in the Milaca coffee shop the morning of the show while I was in between interviews. I told her I was going to go to the show that night and hoping for an interview. I asked the woman what she would ask Marie Osmond if she had the chance? she told me she couldn't think of any particular questions, but she wanted me to tell Marie Osmond how much she is admired and what an inspiration she is to women everywhere. If Marie Osmond can be the mother of 8 children (ages 5 to 24) at the age of 48, go through a divorce, go through the death of her father all while participating in a physically demanding show of Dancing with the Stars while helping with Children's Miracle Network (of which she is a founder) prepare for a Christmas tour and run a doll company, and look fabulous all the time, the woman should be president.

And when you think about all of the stuff regular moms and working moms all over the country go through, it is pretty much the same thing. Only maybe not on such a grand scale and not so public. If Marie Osmond can do all of that, then we can too.

And we do.

We work — either at home or at an office or both — we bake cookies for bake sales, run errands, work at fundraisers, take the kids to hockey and dance practice, we go through divorces and lose our parents and we live on, too.

I didn't get a chance to interview her. She admitted she was a little tired. I don't blame her. But I did get a chance to meet her briefly. I told her I admired her and she told me I was cute.

Here is our superior quality Poloroid snapshot taken back stage. Sort of a chincey photo, but it was all that was "allowed" backstage.


And that was my 12 second brush with a famous person.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Is it done yet?



Remember the sayings like, "You can't judged a book by the cover," and "Looks aren't everything," and "It's what is on the inside that counts."

This is the actual real turkey prepared for a Thanksgiving dinner by a local family. The names are not being released to protect them from possible public embarassment. But if you know, them, they are probably still laughing about this Thanksgiving. And will probably always remember it.

Imagine the surprise on the hostess's face when she was about to serve up this turkey to Thanksgiving dinner guests. Now, to be fair, I don't know the story behind the dinner. I am only guessing it went something like this:

Husband says, "I will make the turkey in the deep fryer outside, Honey. You don't have to worry. In 45 minutes, 20 pounds of steaming hot, juicy turkey will be ready and on the table."

The turkey was prepped by marinating and covered with cajun spices. Smelling mouth-wateringly-delicious, even before cooking. The anticipation is almost overwhelming.

Wife goes about her business preparing the elaborate "rest" of the meal. All the trimmings are ready. The table is set with the best china, silver and crystal.

Wife is getting anxious, because the husband and his brother are out by the garage cooking the turkey, telling tales of the recent hunt, guessing on the day they will be out on the lake ice fishing and, perhaps, drinking some ice cold beer.

"Time is up. that bird must be done by now," Husband says.

Much to his surprise when he pulled it out of the fryer it appears to be more of a hunk of charcoal than the star attraction of a Thanksgiving feast.

Wife is horified, but laughs. Perhaps more to shrug off the feeling of, "OMG! What am I suppose to do with this?" She downs a half a bottle of Pino Noir, without the use of a glass.

Well, as it turned out, from what I am told, once the family scraped off all of the burnt skin, the meat inside was actually quite delicious. And quite done. Just not a lot of meat, especially for about 14 people. And just so you know, nobody went hungry. There was a heaping pile of instant mashed potatoes, a little bit of gravy and hot dogs were added to the menu. So far, everyone has survived.

But still, you just have to laugh. And say, "Thank you, God, that wasn't my turkey!"

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

shakin' the tamborine


There are many people in this world with many hidden talents just waiting to be brought up to the surface. This is my young friend Stacy, one of the best tamborine players I have ever met. And I have actually met three.

Apparently, Stacy just picked up the tamborine one day, started shaking and realized she has talent. Now she has her own tamborine and shakes it up with little encouragement. She can hardly resist a good beat. Whenever the music is hot and the mood is right, she just pops up on stage and joins the band. She has never been asked to leave the stage -- at least not by the band members -- and the crowd always enjoys the show.

Her most recent appearance at the Blue Goose in Garrison brought down the house.

Way to go Stacy! Keep on shakin!

I did it! Happy Thanksgiving!


Well, it has been a while since my last post. Forgive me. (I feel like I should be in a confessional or something, but I am lutheran!)

Anyway, Thanksgiving weekend was fabulous! I had such a great time with my family, I just can't even tell you all of it. But I will touch on the highlights and show some pix:

The turkey turned out scrumptious! (If I do say so myself.)

I ended up just throwing the 22 pound stuffed bird in an old roaster with some water in the bottom, covered all with foil and left it alone for about 5 hours. Then, took off the foil and basted it a couple of times.


The smoke detector only went off about three times, if I remember correctly. But it was NOT the turkey that caused the issues. Maybe I spilled something on the bottom of the oven while basting, I am not sure. It just wouldn't be a home-cooked meal by Viv, if the smoke detector did not go off at some point.

I made stuffing that received some pretty high marks from family members. Someone told me to rip apart day-old bread. I am telling you the only ripping I did was rip open the Brownberry bag of nicely cubed stuffing already seasoned and ready to go. I did add a few things to the stuffing, like sausage, onions, celery, apples and more spices -- garlic of course. And some more sage. You just gotta have sage!


My brother peeled and mashed 10 pounds of potatoes to go with our yams. He also made 6 pies! Yummy! Mom made cranberry sauce - homemade (and brought the stuff in the can for the less discriminating in the bunch!), green bean casserole, homemade buns, a bunch of cookies, bars, and all kinds of other stuff.

Everybody helped out in some way and brought something to the table. I am sure I am forgetting something, but needless to say, nobody, not one of us 16 LaMoore's went hungry! (Or thirsty!)

All of the bodies stretched out on the couches, chairs and floor afterwards was a testiment to that.


We played some games later: The kids downstairs on the Wii and some older kids (like me) in the dinning room playing Catch Phrase, Scrabble, Silly Scrabble (where you can make up a word using all or some of your letters, but you must be able to pronouce it, define it, and use it in a sentence. Then everyone votes whether it is believable or not. Hilarious!) and Trivia Pursuit. There is quite a bit of compitition in my family and proclaiming, "52 hours of labor and this is how you repay me?" doesn't gain a mother any points on the board. Just so you know. Laurie, don't try that again!

My face hurt from laughing so hard for so long.

We all had a wonderful time. We caught up on some things -- my nephew that was going to school in Mongolia, has since married a girl from Japan and they have an apartment in Tokyo (I think?). We realize there is so much more we missed and can't wait to get together again in a couple of weeks. There simply was not enough time.

There was a lot of laughing going on! Memories were made. We were properly stuffed. We had plenty of liquid beverages. The fire kept us warm and love filled our home. Thanks everyone!

Happy holidays!

Monday, November 19, 2007

Turkey and buns

There could be some comparison between the biblical fishes and loaves story and Thanksgiving dinner — turkey and buns. It is always easy to add another plate or two to the dining table and have enough food to feed everybody. It's just the chairs that may be lacking.

The guest list for my Thanksgiving dinner has risen to 16. I am thrilled to be hosting two of my nephews who have decided to join us. I have not seen Tyler in almost two years. He has been studying in Mongolia. His brother Dylan has also been away attending college. Although Wisconsin is at least on the same continent, I haven't seen Dylan since last summer. So, I am excited to see the both of them and hear everything that is happening in their busy lives.

I am still not too stressed about dinner. Many people have eaten my cooking and survived. Some people have even gone on to live somewhat normal lives.

There will be enough food — there always is. My house may not be spotlessly clean — it never is. But my family will love me anyway — they always do.

And that is what I am thankful for this year, and every year.

I will find more chairs somewhere and I do think I will need more wine.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Talking turkey

So here I am one week away from the big Thanksgiving dinner. I am hosting the big weekend at my house for 14 people.

I am not totally stressed about it -- yet.

Usually, Thanksgiving is at my mom and dad’s in Bloomington. Or my brother’s house in Jordan, or my other brother’s house in Cannon Falls. I think my sister had it at her house in Maple Grove once.

I am famous in my family for not being the best cook. We never really have to check the smoke detectors at the change of Daylight Savings time, because ours go off pretty much whenever I cook. You know the saying -- that’s how I tell the dinner is done. Unfortunately, it is kinda true at my house. J

It’s not that I can’t cook, I just don’t do it often. There are a few specialty dinners that I can throw together with the blink of an eye. The easy things like salads, (green leafy ones with fresh vegies - not jello salad) homemade pizza, chili, soup, burgers on the grill, hamburger pie and reservations.

My home ec teacher from high school told me all I had to know was how to make one fabulous dinner and just cook that every time I entertain. The same for dessert. And I have pretty much stuck with that theory. I have found the best dinners are prepared with wine. Sometimes, I even put it IN the food.

I am usually the one in the family asked to bring the bean casserole. Or buns. Or, well, the wine. You get the picture. The easy stuff.

I have made a turkey dinner before. But not for several years and not for 14 people.

I am planning on making the turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes and yams. Everyone else has been given their assignments. I am thinking it should be pretty easy.

My questions have to do with the turkey part. OK, so that is like the main part of the Thanksgiving dinner. But really, all I have to do is put the bird in the oven and relax for the next 6 hours or so, right?

For 14 people, I am thinking I need a 20 pound turkey. And I am suppose to stuff it, too. That is what my brother told me.

I guess I am looking for some suggestions. Like, I am wondering, how long should I cook that bird? Should I cover it? Do I add water? Should I use one of those bags? And do turkeys come with directions? How long do I cook it? I just don’t know.

And any stuffing recipes out there that are simple and scrumptious?

Waiting to talk turkey with you readers. Please offer your suggestions.

Thank you!

Where are all the manners?

So I don’t understand why people do not to R.S.V.P.?

When a person goes to the trouble of hand writing invitations to a party and having them delivered, whether by mail, in person, by pigeon or pony, the recipient should reply. It is just good manners.

Even if you don’t want to go to the party, at least call and make up some excuse.

Specifically, I am talking about kid birthday parties. I had one for my son this past weekend and am sadly disappointed with the lack of responses. Do people think, because it is a kid party it just doesn’t matter if they RSVP or not?

There is the likely possibility the invitations in question were lost in the guest children’s backpacks. That has actually happened to me before. The day before, or even the day of, I have found an invitation to a birthday party. Suddenly, I am on the phone calling the mom asking if it is too late for my child to attend. While I apologized for the late response, the mom is usually grateful for the response and of course, it is not too late. So we throw some money in a card on the way to the party and everybody is happy.

Some of my son's friends did not make it to the party on Saturday. My son had a good time with his friends that were there, but he did wonder where the other missing guys were and why they didn’t show up.

They are kids. By Monday at recess all was forgotten. I probably took it harder than my son. And I do have extra thank you gift bag items I can save for some unexpected gift I may need to throw together in the future.

But still, if you get invited to a party, whether by phone, in person, or an invitation asking for an R.S.V.P., you should at least call. Even if you have to make up a little excuse.

Where have all the manners gone?

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Disappointment

I live in the Brainerd school district 181.

The first thing my 10-year-old fifth-grade son said this morning when he woke up was, “Did they vote yes?” When I answered his question with a no, he fell silent. Pulled the covers over his head and said he had a stomach ache.
“How am I going to finish my Power Point project if they take away the computer lab? It’s due on Friday, Mom,” he said from under the comforter, clutching his tummy. “What is going to happen to my science class?”

The disappointment in my son’s voice was heart breaking. "Why, Mom?” he said. “Doesn’t anybody care what happens to us kids?”

I am very proud of my son’s ability to comprehend so much of global politics from the presidential level to his school level. I owe much of that to the Brainerd School District. When I was in the fifth grade all I cared about was riding my bike, who my best friend was each week, my Barbie dolls and boy germs. I didn’t think much beyond my world on Vincent Avenue.

Things are different today.

While my son is still concerned with how the lack of the school levy will affect him personally, he understands the bigger issue. I am greatly disappointed in the Brainerd community for letting down our kids.

If you grew up in Minnesota and attended public schools, there is an obligation to continue to support the schools long after you have graduated, or your kids graduated.

I grew up in Bloomington and attended public schools. We had teachers to help with elective classes like anthropology, foreign language and student government. We didn't go door-to-door selling candy or calenders to pay for school items like library books and field trips. Extra curricular activities didn’t cost families much extra out-of-pocket. The poor kids had the same opportunities as the middle and rich kids.

My parents struggled to raise four kids with different interests. I can guarantee you if the funding wasn’t available through public schools, I would not have had the opportunity to participate in track, student government, or theater. My brothers would not have been able to build a car in shop class or have a weight room to train for sports, or learn to play the trumpet. My sister would not have played volleyball, gone to state or learned to speek French fluently by eighth grade.

If I and my siblings would have had to ask our parents for extra money to participate, the answer would always have been no.

I have listened to most of the excuses for the no vote: It’s too much money; I don’t have kids in school; I am not from this area; My kids are home schooled; The state should give more money; Reform needs to be made; School Board needs to be more responsible, and so on.

Valid points? Maybe. Partially. But not enough to hang over the heads of the future of our community. Our kids should not have to be so disappointed in the adults in their community.

If you are happy you will not be asked to invest in the future of our kids by an additional property tax, you can be proud of thinking of yourself and not paying back for your Minnesota public education education by paying it forward for our kids today.

State tax reform does need to be made. The school board does need to be accountable. Changes do need to be made. It is not going to happen over night, or perhaps even over the next few years.

On the other hand, the no vote will change things drastically for the kids in our schools today.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

One flat tire

I left the house this morning feeling pretty darned good about the day ahead.

It was snowing. I love the first snows of the season. These tiny little flakes that don't amount to anything don't really count as the first snow — at least not in my book. But it just gives a hint as to what is ahead. You can smell it in the air. You know it is just around the corner.

I am hoping for a lot of snow this year. I am a skier. I have always been a skier and I always will be a skier. I spent most of my teen years (up to 30 years old) hanging out and skiing at the local hill, ski club, ski team, then ski instructor. That smell of fresh air and snow gets in my head and starts my blood warming getting me excited for the new season. I love other winter sports, too. But we have had so little snow the past few years, I have not been able to enjoy them. My snowshoes are hanging in the porch so full of dust, they look one size larger. My x-country skies need a little wax and I will have to find my boots, but I just can't help wishing, hoping, dreaming of a white winter.

One of the best parts of changing seasons is when you switch around the drawers. You know, change the t-shirt and shorts drawers into the SWEATER drawers! It is like getting a whole new wardrobe without going to the mall! (Of course, going to the mall is still necessary for a few new fall/winter fashion essentials.

So this morning I put on an old favorite sweater not worn since last February. Found my scarf and gloves. Put on my fun down vest with the faux fur collar and I walked out of the house. I was even having a good hair day. I was on schedule. I had a full cup of coffee and ready to face the day.

As I backed out of the garage, I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. My Jeep just felt a bit sluggish. I backed out anyway. Maybe it was just cold. It was snowing, you know.

I started forward down the road. The poor little Jeep still felt a bit sluggish. Now, I am not a rocket scientist and I am certainly no mechanic. I know where the gas goes, and the washer fluid. I even know how to check the oil — not change it, just check it. I got a couple driveways down and just knew something wasn't right.

Sure enough, the right rear tire was flat. This is not good. It is 7:30 in the morning. It's snowing and I have a flat tire.

I figured if I could get back to the garage, I could use the compressor to fill the tire up and I could get to town to have it changed at Lingwalls Garage. Good plan.

Driving on a flat is not recommended. I know this. But it was less than 40 feet — give or take a few. So I get back to the garage, and realize, I know how to plug the compressor in. I see the on/off switch. But that is all I know. I have no clue how to run it. My husband has told me a couple of times, but that is one of those things I didn't really pay much attention to. I figured, I am smart enough to figure it out if I ever needed to know. And I did. Figure out how to run it. It was easy. I called my good neighbor, Larry, to help me out.

He filled up my tire and sent me on my way.

"Go straight to town and get that fixed," he said. "I don't know how long it will hold air, but I think you will make it to town."

Thanks, Larry.

So I get to Garrison, pull in front of Lingwalls Garage and to my horor, the lights are not on.

Ron Lingwall (Lingwalls Hardware) was out opening up his store for the day.

"I dont' know, Viv," he said. "I think they are closed for deer hunting. I would go down to Andersons. You should make it."

Great. Should.
Now I am hoping, wishing, dreaming I make it to Andersons — 17 miles down the road, give or take.

I did.

Two guys were swaping stories with the guy behind the counter when I walked in and just said, "Help?"

They all kind of chuckled a bit when I said I had a flat tire. Especially when they asked me if it was on the top or the bottom and I didn't know.

"It's the right rear," I said. I didn't know if that was the top or the bottom. But I soon figured it was just a joke because I am a girl.

Well the guy pulled the wheel off and found the spot where a sharp rock had sliced through the thick rubber on my less than 1-year-old tires. He sprayed the tire with something and I saw the slice bubble. "Hummmmm, that doesn't look good," I said. "I guess that's the top."

He laughed. We chatted. He fixed the tire, filled it with air and I was on my way.

Thanks Anderson's Garage!

My coffee was cold and I had to go to the restroom. But I had a new plug in my tire and it was holding air. It was still snowing. Still tiny flakes that wont amount to much. And I was back on the road.

I still feel good about the day. After all, I have on an old favorite sweater. And it is still a pretty good hair day.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

YOU can make a difference. Educate our kids.

I am pleased with our current state government keeping election promises of no new taxes. This has certainly helped to maintain our local infrastructures, roadways, state highways and bridges.

Our children are benefiting greatly because we as parents do not have to pay any extra for public education. This apparently leaves more money in our pockets to dole out to pay for fundraisers to support the school activities such as classroom supplies and learning projects, field trips, computer lab and library privileges. Not to mention the choir or band, and sports fees.

Am I missing something here?

Dangers of roads and bridges in ill-repair aside, insufficient government support for our children's education is hurting everyone.

Government support for pubic education has declined significantly in the past ten years. Our teachers and education staff are doing much more with much less. While funding has decreased, federally mandated programs have increased. And the cost of technology continues to rise. Transportation and fuels costs are escalating and the population of our communities are rising.

Providing a strong education for our children is important to prepare our children to become productive adults. Keeping up with technology is a part of the process. We simply cannot deny those facts.

Nine out of ten Minnesota school districts receive local tax dollars to support core curriculum. There is a huge difference in the funding between districts, however. For instance, Brainerd area residents contribute $199 per student while similar size districts such as Wayzata receive $1,572 per student. The average level for similar size school districts is $802.

Substandard funding should not be tolerated. Quality education is everyone's responsibility.

I understand the arguments of the elderly, or those living on a fixed income and the extra tax can become a burden. But there are refunds available to those who qualify so this should not be an issue.

I do not understand the argument of statements such as, "I don't have kids," or "My kids are all grown up." "I paid for my kid's education already."

First of all, somebody else, years ago, also helped pay for your kid's public education through government tax dollars. Now that your kids are all grown up or you don't have any kids, think about this:

Do you like your healthcare provider? Does your doctor have kids in school? How about your nurse? What about the convenience store clerk? Maybe your auto mechanic or hair dresser has youngsters in school. Or how about the waitress who serves your afternoon coffee and pie? Your bus driver? Trash collector? Mail carrier?

How about your friendly fire fighter and first responder? Your state trooper or local cop?

Now think about how your life would be affected without these people.

If our schools cannot provide quality education for our children, many professionals may chose to move to an area that will step up to the plate and go to bat for all of the children.

Many school districts across the state — 99 of them — are seeking operating levies this fall. Our local community school districts include Onamia, Milaca, Mora, Pierze, Crosby-Ironton, Elk River, Monticello, St. Cloud, Princeton, Pine City, Becker, Brainerd and Braham.

Election day is one week away. If the referendum does not pass on Nov. 6 in Brainerd alone, two schools will need to close, 60 to 100 teachers and educators will be let go, class sizes will increase from an average of 27 to 35 students, many high school electives and AP courses will be eliminated, middle school athletics and activities will be eliminated, and 18 high school league sports, activities and performing arts will be eliminated.

You can make a difference in the lives of our children and invest in the future of our community. Please, don't let the education bridges fall and the roads to learning crumble. Vote YES on Nov. 6.

Peace.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Busy news girl!

It has been a busy couple of weeks for this Messenger news girl. But, it is just not all work and no play for this reporter. OK, well, it is all work. Don't tell my boss I have fun doing my job. But then again, a wise person once said, if you love your job, you will never work a day in your life.

So I thought I would share a little of the behind the scenes what I have been up to in the last few weeks.

I wrote an article a couple weeks ago about a gal who is learning to shoot. Amy Doyle, of Brainerd, is a transplanted city girl, she said. Making the move to the north country has been great for her. She is having fun trying different outdoorsy things. One of the items on her list was learning to shoot.

I followed Amy to Wealthwood Rod and Gun Club just north of Garrison. The story published in the Oct. 10 edition of the Messenger mentioned two girls who learned to shoot that day. I didn't mention the second gal in the story and no body questioned who the second gal was. Either no body read the story or they just didn't pay attention.

I was the second gal learning to shoot that day under the patient direction of Bill Carroll.




Bill said I was a quick study and took to shooting like a duck to water. We started out in the simulator shooting blanks at a movie screen. Then moved outside to the skeet area and then on to the trap area.

I shot 20 rounds and hit 16 of them. Not bad shooting, I guess. (Usually you shoot 25, but that is all the time we had.)


The Garrison Fire Department open house was a huge success. I am guessing there were about 200 people who came to visit with the fire fighters and emergency crews on hand Saturday, Oct. 13. I have seen a lot of those guys and gals in action fighting real fires and on the scenes of accidents. They all deserve a standing ovation for their dedication to the job. A volunteer job at that.

So, thank you Garrison Fire and Rescue!

While on the assignment I had the opportunity to learn about the Crow Wing County Bomb Squad. Who knew there was such a thing in central Minnesota? Certainly not me.

Deputy Tim Moe filled me in on all the things they can do with the robots like disarming bombs and armed bad guys in hostile situations.

Then he let me try on the bomb suit.



First they helped me into the jacket and tightened it up. I could hardly move my arms. Let alone bend over to even attempt to try on the pants. I knew if I fell down, there would be no way I could ever get up. I would be like that kid in the "Christmas Story" wearing the snow suit — laying in the snow, screaming for help.


Next the plopped that helmet on my head and strapped that on tight as well.

I heard Sheriff Todd Dahl's muffled voice through the thick insulation of the helmet saying, "tuck your chin down." He explained if the guys on the squad do not tuck their chin down inside the collar of the jacket, if a bomb were to detinate, shrapnel can get up inside the helmet. Not a good thing.

Then they told me to run down to the corner and back.

Not on your life. I made it to the end of the truck before I started getting claustrophobic. Hyperventilating in a bomb suit helmet is not a good thing. At least there were paramedics close by, should I need one, which I didn't. Thank goodness.

Bomb squad techies in traning wear that suit — pants, jacket and helmet — for ten hours a day in heat, rain and cold. Heat is the worst, but no matter what the outdoor temperature is, it hets up quickly in that suit when you are just standing there. I can't imagine adding ones own body heat caused by stress and endorphin releasing adrenalin of a real life situation. Deputy Tim explained the suit is rated for 8 pounds of explosive at a distance of ten feet. Any more explosive, or closer, and it could be fatal. "At least the suit will hold all the pieces together and there will be something to bury," Tim said.

Not a pleasant thought. Tim knows there is great risk in being a member of the bomb squad. But it is a risk he is willing to take in the name of public safety.




Thanks Crow Wing County Sheriff's Office.

Just last week, I hung out with the Mille Lacs County Sheriff's Office for an afternoon. The story of the pursuit driving training course will be published in an upcoming edition of the Messenger. (Oct. 31). So I can't let the whole story out of the bag. But I can tell you I learned a lot about my own driving. Here is a little peek behind the scenes that you will not see in next weeks printed edition.

Keeping your hands on the wheel, in the position of 9 and 3 o'clock with the thumbs resting on the wheel in an up position on the wheel is important. You actually do have better control over the vehicle. I know. Because Sheriff Brent Lindgren let me try it. Deputy Dan Holada gave me a lesson in how to hold the wheel and drive the course.

I drove slowly at first — yes, a real squad car — and then added lights and siren as I picked up speed. "Adding the lights and siren actually helps you concentrate," Dan said. "It increases stress and adrenalin."

It did. My heart rate increased and I could feel the tension in my hands while I gripped the sterring wheel. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins.




The hardest part for me was my hands getting mixed up. I was trying hard to drive with my hands at 9 and 3 and letting the hand not doing the turn slide through the wheel. I am used to doing the cross-over thing — not recommended anymore.
But keeping my hands at 9 and 3 really held control of the vehicle while going through the serpentine element of the course.

Apparently, I have some trust issues. At one point in the course the driver is suppose to brake hard, then immediately excelerate to 30 mph within a distance of less than 75 feet. That means pedel to the metal — literally. Then Dan said he would tell me when to brake and I should not hit the brake before he told me. The problem (my problem) is the braking piont was in a curve. A sharp curve.

"Just trust me," Dan said. "I wont let you brake to late."

At slow speeds, I trusted Dan. At faster speeds, I had a hard time trusting him. My instincts were to brake sooner. Which is fine for driving to soccer practice, but not so good when you are a cop in an amergency pursuit situation. Good thing I will only be driving to soccer practice.

Although I had a blast driving a squad car, and watching the guys go through their training — also having fun — pursuit driving is dangerous. The training is important. Pursuit driving is rated number two for officer on the job fatalities. Number one is death by gunfire.

They wouldn't let me drive the squad car off the enclosed parking lot. So I got in my Jeep and drove home with no lights or siren. Slowly. Within the speed limit, anyway. With my hands at 9 and 3.

Thanks to Sheriff Brent Lindgren, Deputy Dan Holada and the Mille Lacs County Sheriff's Office.




So there you have a quick glimpse behind the scenes - a day in the life of a reporter. It is not all work and it is not all fun and games. But then again, sometimes it is.

Peace!

Friday, October 12, 2007

Weekend buzz

Looking for something to do this weekend?

The Garrison fire Department is celebrating fire prevention week. Stop by the fire hall on Saturday, Oct. 13 from 4 to 6 p.m. at 27174 Central Street in Garrison for some free fun for the whole family.

Did I mention FREE? There will be free fire truck rides; free blood pressure screening; free vile of life program; free hot dogs, brats, chips and pop, free gifts; and free goodie bags.

You will have an opportunity to meet the members of the Garrison fire and rescue department, Smokey the Bear, and Crow Wing county Sheriff Todd Dahl.

There will be lots of information to help keep your family safe in case of fire.

Stop on by and say hello.

Later that evening you can take a stand to end domestic violence. Members of TADA — teens against dating violence — invite you to dance away dating violence in a safe and healthy environment.

And it is FREE!

There will be DJ music by Top Shelf Karaoke for dancing enjoyment. A karaoke contest will certainly entertain the guests with other contests, games, prizes food and fun. This is a great opportunity to support healthy relationships and promote teens against dating abuse. You may even meet new friends! There is a surprise guest appearance! (I don't even know who or what that is all about, but I can hardly wait to find out!)

WHERE: Lions Community Center in Onamia
TIME: Doors open at 6 p.m. dance is over at 10 p.m.

Bring a non-parishable food item to donate to the Onamia food pantry and receive an extra entry for a "fabulous" prize.

For more informaiotn call Pearl Crisis Center at 800-933-6914.

Have a safe and healthy weekend.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

It can happen in your hometown

The headline called it a crime of passion.

The town of Crandon, Wis. is a small town of about 1,900 people where acccording to one resident, everybody knows everybody. It is by all accounts a peaceful, non-violent town. Murders don't happen in Crandon. Until last weekend.

The quiet midwestern town is now gireving the loss of six young people who were discovered shot dead at a home early morning Sunday, Oct. 7. Townsfolk never thought such a tremendous tragedy could strike their hometown.

Apparently, according to the Tribune, Tyler Peterson, 20, was a full time Forest County Sheriff's deputy and part time Crandon police officer until this off-duty officer went on a "shooting rampage" killing the six teen-agers and young adults. Peterson was killed by gunfire later about 8 miles north of Crandon. The Crandon police chief would not elaborate on the details.

The Tribune article said they were all real good kids. Just "run-of-the-mill" regular kids, the 7 young people who were at a pizza and movie party at a white two-story duplex.

Crandon folks may never know what happened exactly or why. The residents are calling it a crime of passion. Peterson may have been involved with a young woman who lived in the duplex. One theory is the relationship ended and Peterson went into a fit of jealousy. The young woman is one of the victims shot dead in the white two-story duplex.

Crime of passion? Fit of jeolousy? However you phrase it, what it is, is domestic violence.

The young mother of one of the victims, a 14-year-old girl, is still hoping she will wake up and it will all have been a bad dream. The nightmare may have just begun for the families of the 6 victims, 1 survivor and the entire town of Crandon — where everbody knows everybody.

The town is in shock one resident said. Peterson was a reasonable guy. He was laid back and "didn't seem like they type of person who would go on a shooting rampage or murder someone," one resident said.

But how does one know what type of person will go on a shooting rampage? How does one recognize a murderer?

When you think "It can't happen to me" or "stuff like that doesn't happen in this quiet little town" think again. It can happen anywhere. It can happen everywhere. It can happen here.

October is domestic violence awareness month. Here are some things you should know:

* Every 11 seconds a woman is beaten in the United States, according to the FBI.
* Every 45 seconds a woman in the United States is raped, according to the FBI.
* About 30 percent of women seeking tretment in hospital ER's are victims of abuse from husbands or boyfriends.
* 1 in 3 females and 1 in 6 males will be sexually assaulted during their lifetime.
* Sexual violence is not an impulsive, uncontrolable act. Most assaults are planned by the assailant.
* Sexual assault is never the victim's fault.
* 30 to 50 percent of female high school students experience dating violence.
* 40 percent of teenage girls know of someone who has been beaten by a boyfriend.
* 30 percent of all murdered teeange girls re killed by a current or former boyfriend.

Could the tragedy in Crandon have been avoided or prevented? Only Peterson knows what went wrong that tragic night. There may never be an answer to that question. But if you or someone you know is being hurt, or in an abusive relationship, there is help. Trust your instincts and don't downplay the danger. If you feel unsafe, you probably are. Take threats seriously. Relationships are the most lethal when a victim tries to end a relationship.

In an emergency call 911.
If you need an advocate or help, call the crisis line at 1-800-933-6914.

Coming in the Messenger you will meet some very brave people who have over come domestic violence. Parts of the stories are graphic as one victim described a nightmarish event. The stories can be perceived as sad, but actually send a message of courage and hope.

The people shared their stories with me because: Silence hides violence. Love shouldn't hurt. Dating violence is wrong. It is also against the law.

Those are all catchy slogins. But they are more than advertising jargin. They are all very true statements.

Please, take a stand. Get involved in peace and non-violent initiatives. Take a moment to think about what could happen in your small town. In this small town. In your hometown. Before violence leaves behind a hole even hate cannot fill.

Peace.

Tuesday, October 2, 2007

Catching up to do

An old acquaintance stopped by last week. Some of you may know him as well. His name is Murphy and he has some laws.

Actually, things didn't go wrong last week, they just went wild.

That's the way it goes in this business sometimes. We get our assignments for the week and away we go. The calander is usually quite full.

Things were moving along quite well last week and my regular assignments were all on track. I swung through Garrison on my way to an interview and as luck would have it, I was ahead of schedule. Those of you who know me may find that hard to believe, but that day, it was true. I stopped to talk to a couple of local guys who were hooking up a trailer to head out for duck hunting. We chatted a few minutes, laughed a bit and I was on my way.

So I am driving along about 15 minutes later and nearly half way to Milaca when my phone rings.

"Hey, Viv," my friend says. "I am not sure, but I think the Deerwood bank in Garrison was just robbed."

"Yeah, right," I says.

"No, I am serious!"

Well, I pulled over (Of course, I was driving and talking at the same time previously, very carefully, mind you, and I was using my hands free Bluetooth device.) I made one phone call and confirmed, the bank had in fact been robbed.

I am so thankfull for the tip I got from my friend. I always keep my sources confidential, so I am withholding his name. But he was certainly my best friend for the day!

I had been on my way to what I knew what would be an awsome interview. I felt badly I had to re-schedule hoping desperately I could work it out. We did, fortunately, and I turned around and headed back to Garrison.

I did my thing there at the bank. It turns out the bank was robbed at gunpoint only about 5 minutes after I had left the area the first time. I talked to the Sheriff, got the scoop and a few photos. They were looking for a dude about 6 feet tall, 225 pounds wearing a Twins ball cap and blue jacket. He had a goatee and mustache. The Goateed Gunman left the area driving a silver Toyota Camry.

I and was on my way again. We got the story on our website (www.millelacsmessenger.com) as quickly as possible for the breaking news, because that is my job, to get the news and get it to you as quickly and accurately as possible. The Internet helps the weekly paper become more like a daily paper when need be. and just for your information, we had our basic story posted before the local daily.

Anyway, excitement like that doesn't come along the sleepy litttle resort town of Garrison very often. And when it does, the news travels fast. By the time I had left the area back on track to Milaca, I had three more phone calls from some fine peeps in Garrison giving me the scoop. I thanked them each . I am always extremely appreciative to recieve such tips — anytime!

The cops were quite active in the area for the next few days stopping just about any silver or grey Camry, or anything even close. Several fine citizens in Garrison were stopped and even some searches of some area homes. One of which resulted in a family pet being shot and killed by an officer. (See story in this weeks paper.)

Watching the news last night, they showed photos of a guy who has robbed a few banks in Minnesota and South Dakota. The last bank he robbed was Tuesday, Sept. 18 at 11:30 a.m. at the Washington County Bank on White Bear Avenue in Maplewood. He is said to be about 6 feet tall and around 200 pounds, wearing a hat and goatee.

To, me, he looks an aweful lot like the Goateed Gunman of Garrison who robbed that little bank on Thursday, Sept. 27. The Garrison dude may be a bit older as he is said to have a "salt and pepper" colored goatee. Compairing the photos, the similarities are there. Brothers? cousins? or just a couple of friends? Or no relationship at all, they just happen to both have goatees and wear caps and rob banks and sort of look alike. Or maybe it is the same guy. Add a couple of pounds, or just a heavier jacket, and fill in the goatee with a couple of day's growth and I guess anything is possible. It had been a few days since the last robbery.

But just in case the Goateed Gunman is reading this, be warned, the peeps of Garrison are still looking for the silver Camry and you.

We finished off the Garrison week with an exciting Mille Lacs Crossing. An epic event of wind dancers in the form of kite boarders and windsurfers racing out across the lake on a course of 16 miles. Perfect wind and nice weather and a great bunch of folks. My hat goes off to all of the volunteers who made the event possible, expecially the local folks who step in and volunteer their time, gas, boats and equipment to give support on the water.

Tourists and locals lined the shore of Mille Lacs all along Garrison Bay for several hours to watch the colorful display of sails and kites. If you haven't ever seen one of these races, or watched the kiters perform, you really should check it out sometime.

I've had some catching up to do, but that was the excitement in Garrison last week. Keep track here and of course at www.millelacsmessenger.com. We will keep you posted.

Peace.

p.s. John, I know. I still can't spell. But I warned you at the beginning, this is unedited and apparently I can't figure out spell check on here either. Good thing you can't see the full moon right now. I am not 'wining' and remember " ... sometimes, I even put it in food."

Monday, September 24, 2007

Reggae recap

Saturday was a beautiful day and it seemed all the stars were alined. I had enjoyed a wonderful morning shooting photos of the brilliant fall colors. I had a handfull of coupons and found major bargins on an afternoon shopping trip. Everything was just fitting into place so nicely. It was a chocolate mouse without any calories, sunshine on your shoulder, wind in your hair and no limit day!

The evening was gorgeous! I was all excited for the reggae festival on Saturday night. What a wonderful evening for an outdoor concert. I arrived between bands and waited patiently for the music to start. I anticipated a Jamaican sound with provocotive percussion in 4/4 time with A-minor chords producing a kind of repetative and hypnotic sound.

After a seemingly extended period to set up, a 3-piece band took the stage. With the first chord of the guitar an explosion of electrical feedback pierced my eardrums. "Oh, ah, sorry, dudes," the lead guitar player said.

And I was. Sorry, that is.

The music reflected nothing I had anticipated. I was completely dissappointed.

I met a couple of wonderful people, tho. Which is probably pretty good odds considering there were only about 30 (pronounced tirdy by my new Jamaican friend) people in view at any one time. One of my new aquaintences told me the next band would be better. I should stick around.

I did. I gave them all the benefit of doubt. Certainly the band could not be any worse. And I enjoyed talking with some fascinating people while I waited.

I met Rasta Ziggi and Sterret Morrison, two charming Jamacian men currently residing in the Twin Cities. They were sharing a vendor booth - one of the two vendors set up at the festival. Sterret was selling jewelery and T-shirts with impressions of Bob Marley screen printed on the front. Ziggi was selling wildlife wood carvings, each with intricate details. Both of the men had personality unmatched by any folks I have met, well, since We Fest in August. Both men were highly entertaining.

"It's not easy to play reggae," Ziggi told me. "People try, but most don't get it." He was rolling his own cigarette as he spoke. Tabacco. Regular, not a green leafy substance, but perhaps it was imported.

"You ever been to Jamaica, mon?" Sterret asked.

"No. I have been to Wisconsin," I told them.

Apparently Wisconsin is not anything like Jamaica.

"You get your lily-white (mule) down to Jamaica, mon. You hear real reggae. This is not. They need a Jamaican to teach. See, it is backward, forward, backward, forward like 'dis," Ziggi said. "You try."

We all laughed and Ziggi sang a song - reggae style - he made up on the spot about me - "the camera lady who take a 'de pictures. "

A friend of Ziggi's stopped by the vendor booth. I apologize, but I cannot recall his name. They said they would make sure next year's festival would be better organized and publicised, perhaps even advertised. Time will tell, I suppose.

The guys said the next band would be better and they were. Quite good actually. Still not exactly what I had anticipated, but then after the first band I heard, the second was a delight.

The fire dancers would not be performing until around midnight, but they were running at least a half-hour behind schedule, I was told. Every person I talked to said the fire dancers would be worth the wait. But, quite honestly, I had had enough of the festival. I just had to leave.

"Come soon, mon," Ziggi said.

The evening was not a total loss. I can't say from experience, but I heard the next couple of bands were excellent. I enjoy meeting new people and there certainly were a handful of characters at the festival. Sometimes, it only takes one or two people to make an evening somewhat remarkable. Certainly unforgetable.

I haven't given up on reggae music. It is fun to listen to. And I haven't given up on trying the next festival.

"Backward, forward, that is all."

Friday, September 21, 2007

Weekend buzz blog

It is time for the weekend buzz — another work in progress for me guaranteed to get nothing but better as time goes on.

This weekend I will be broadening my horizons and exploring a venue of music I have to admit, I don't know much about. I will be covering the Reggae Festival held at Jacks on Mille Lacs. The festival runs from today, Friday, Sept. 21 through Sunday, Sept. 23.

I like the music of Bob Marley, so if this festival is anything like his Jamacian sound, I am in for a treat. If not, I have exposed myself to something new. Either way, I will be sure to tell you all about it as soon as I can.

There will be bands with names like Zion Tribe, Jon Wayne and the Pain, the Limns and Hydoponic Party Pants.

Some of them claim their reggae style has roots in rock, funk, hip-hop, soul and even physilla-phycha-funka-della-regga-hipa-hopin-blues. What that means, I have no idea, but it sounds intriguing doesn't it?

I am looking forwad to bumping into a gal I met at Log Jam last August. Her name is Celestial and said some friends of hers will be fire dancing at the reggae gig this weekend. She explained fire dancing to me and it certainly aroused my curiosity. Perhaps I will even give it a try myself. Or maybe not. Either case it is sure to light up the night.

So folks, if you are not into reggae there are some other venues offering live entertainment around the lake this weekend. I looked through this weeks copy of the Messenger and found Work Release is playing at the Blue Goose in Garrison on Friday and Saturday nights. On the other side of the lake at MSA Sound Wave will take the stage both nights this weekend as well. That's all I found for live music. If you hear of anything, let me know.

Check back to see if I tried my hand at fire dancing and get the buzz on the festival and other weekend entertainment.

Be safe and have a great weekend!

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Lesson in sensitivity

When I first started writing for the paper I usually just wrote features and so called fluff pieces. When I first starting writing "hard news" a woman much more wise than I (Kathy) told me to remember that everyone has a mother. And mothers read the paper when their kid's names appear for whatever reason — good or bad.

I sometimes forget that.

I have been reporting on cuff's and collars, courts, accidents, government, city councils and other hard news for a while now. It sometimes all seems to blend in together. Not in a bad way. News is still very interesting to me. What I mean is I have developed a pretty thick skin. Some things just don't bother me anymore or appear to be down right funny.

When I showed up on the scene of my first fatal accident I trembled. My knees shook. My stomach turned and I all but lost my breakfast. I sat in my car and cried before I drove solemnly away. I had nightmares. At similar situations now I still feel a sense of sadness and sympathy for those involved, but I don't have nightmares — usually — and I can do my job of reporting instead of sitting in my car crying. It is never funny.

But some things are sort of funny. At least at first.

I was reading through the weekly sheriff's report the other day. It had the usual tibits of information. Dog bite, suspicious ativity, possible theft of stereo from a boat, cows on the road and a gunshot wound reported by the hospital.

So I checked out the gunshot wound. The official word was "Accidental discharge of a firearm by a dog." Everyone was ok, I was told. The guys knee was pretty messed up, but he is ok. "Ummm, did you say by a dog?" I asked. Correct.

So right away I get this cartoon-like picture in my head of the guy retrieving the bird and the dog holding the gun, taking aim and firing.

Perhaps, it was watching too many Looney Tunes cartoons as a kid. I mean, how many times did watch Bugs Bunny turn around and get Elmer Fudd? Although, Bugs Bunny rarely fired a weapon. He merely outsmarted the old hunter. Bugs occassionaly made a useful purchase from the Acme company and Elmer would end up shooting himself.

The real story: apparently two guys were grouse hunting. Both very experience hunters. A bird was wounded but not killed. As is customary, one hunter picked up the grouse to finish what the buckshot could not. The dog who retrieved the bird jumped around excitedly. While doing so he stepped on the trigger of the gun. The firearm discharged scattering bb's into the young mans leg.

So is it the cartoons? Or maybe just the job. Have I desensitized myself so much that even gunshot wounds can appear humorous?

Well, it wasn't funny to the family of the young man who was injured. The guy was ok, I heard the official word. But I wasn't listening to Kathy's words of wisdom — the guy has a mother. And getting a phone call from your son sitting in a hospital announcing that he has been shot is not a call any mother wants to hear.

It turns out I know the mother. Quite well. But didn't know I knew her and her family until after I had this cartoon running through my head like it was Saturday morning instead of Monday afternoon.

News needs to be reported. In cases where serious criminal charges are filed names will be printed and the story written as straight-up as possible. That is my job. No charges were filed in this particular story.

The young man is recovering. Slowly. He is in a lot of pain. The mother is recovering, too. Slowly. I think I may have wounded our friendship. I apologized to her for being so insensative. And I apologize to her again, right here, right now.

Time heals all wounds, so they say. Time will heal the young hunter. Whether it can heal a friendship, I guess only time will tell.

A tough lesson in sensativity.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Learning something new



So, here I am trying to figure out how to slip a photo inside the blog. Bare with me -- this may take a while. Although I can type about 115 WPM, it takes me a while to figure out this computer stuff.

My first job in the business world was the position of secretary. I was hired at CPT Corporation in Eden Prairie to be a secretary for a director. She had a big glass office. I sat outside her glass bubble so I could anticipate her every whim. I felt l was watching a little gold fish in an aquarium. It could have been worse, she could have been a piranha.

I had a very nice cubicle all by myself. There I had a CPT word processor, a typewriter, phone and a telex machine.

I knew how to use the phone.

Computers were just beginning to move into offices. Not many desks hosted personal computers. But CPT manufactured some of the best word processors and desktop publishing for the times, or so I was told. I didn't know the first thing about computers and I couldn't type. So, my boss sent me to school to learn how to type.

I learned to type. I got a raise. Then she sent me to learn shorthand. That didn't work out as well. But I tried and I learned to write really fast and made up my own symbols. The ones in the book didn't make sense to me. I didn't do well on the shorthand tests in school, but I wrote so fast in the board room, nobody ever really knew. I got a raise.

I worked at CPT for quite a while. Everytime I learned something new, I got a raise. And continued to type making my way up the administrative assistant ladder. I survived about three lay offs as the company began downsizing before its final demise. I finally took my lay off and moved on to a new career. Actually, I took the summer off, waitressed at a few local pubs and had a blast (thanks to a severance package) before I started a new career. That is another story.

But learning a new skill takes time. I like learning something new, just for the sake of learning. When I can look at something and say to myself, "Hey, Self. You did that -- yourself!" That is pretty cool. Learning to post photos to my blog mightl take time as well. When I learn that skill, I might try video and audio clips ... and then ... well, you just never know what you will find ....

Ummm, of course, I would never turn down a raise.

Saturday, September 15, 2007

My first blog

So here I am writing a blog. It is an absolutely beautiful day out there and I am writing a blog. Call me crazy! Or just afraid of being fired!

Seems everyone is writing blogs these days. Katie Couric writes a page in her notebook and reads it on the radio every weekday morning. Brett Larson has a blog. And of course there is Hannabelle.

So here I go.

Blogs began as sort of on-line diaries where daily (or less often) entries were posted for all the world to see. Some blogs have specific topics such as food, entertainment, journal entries, politcs, news and more.

Sometimes blogs contain personal attacks. Now I am all for freedom of speech and freedom of the press. Why wouldn't I be? I am a writer - a real journalist working for a real newspaper. But I do not believe personal attacks belong on my blog, or really, any blog for that matter.

Some folks feel there is a need for a Blogger's Code of Conduct to enforce civility by being civil themselves and moderating comments on their blog. Some guy named Tim O'Reilly apparently said, "I do think we need some code of conduct around what is acceptable behaviour, I would hope that it doesn't come through any kind of regulation. It should come through self-regulation."

So the guy and some other people came up with a list of ideas. I kind of like them and will share them with you.

1. Take responsibility not just for your own words, but for the comments you allow on your blog.
2. Label your tolerance level for abusive comments.
3. Consider eliminating anonymous comments.
4. Ignore the trolls.
5. Take the conversation offline, and talk directly, or find an intermediary who can do so.
6. If you know someone who is behaving badly, tell them so.
7. Don't say anything online that you wouldn't say in person.

I guess number 7 is my favorite. In all it boils down to the Golden Rule: Treat other people the way you want to be treated.

Messin' with the news is going to be fun to write and hopefully, fun for you to read. Like it says in my intro over there, you just never know what you will find. It is not AP Style or really any other style for that matter. It is unedited and uncensored -- at least for now, until Kevin stops me from something. But I promise, I will never use it for personal attacks.

So please come back often. It will be great to see you!


Peace,
Vivian Clark
The Messy News Girl