Everyone has a story, especially if they survived WWII

"Age is opportunity no less,
Than youth itself, though in another dress,
And as the evening twilight fades away,
The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day." ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I was in Milaca yesterday for a meeting. After the meeting I was at first self-absorbed in what I was doing, loading my camera back in the Jeep and thinking of returning phone messages that came in while I was in the meeting. I didn't notice the elderly man walking slowly, shuffling his feet and using a cane as he walked toward the curb.

He was having a bit of trouble getting his feet and cane to cooperate to lift his leg the 5 inches up the curb so he could walk on the sidewalk.

I hesitated for a moment figuring he'll make it. But then I just walked over and grabbed his arm.

"Can I help you up the curb, Sir?" I asked him politely.

"Oh, why it would be my pleasure to let you help me, miss," he said.

It is wonderful to be called miss instead of ma'am. This cute old gentleman with his wonderfully aged face, lots of gray hair and slow moving body wearing a John Deere ball cap and a Chevy Truck jacket.

"I used to move pretty good," he said. "Didn't need a cane. I could walk just fine on my own until I was in an accident a little while ago."

He pointed to his car and proceeded to tell me all about the accident. It never would have happened if the bank across the street from his credit union didn't have CD's at 2 percent higher than the credit union. He was in a hurry to get there before it closed, and so on.

Well one thing led to another and I stood there in the street while he was on the curb telling me story after story about his life. His eyes twinkled and the expression lines near his eyes and mouth were like a map of mostly happy times.

He is 88 years old. He was on his way to the barber shop to get a hair cut and then off to the casino to play some Black Jack.

He has won more times in his life than he has lost, he said. Not just gaming. He was talking about life as a whole.

He was in the service. A World War II veteran as a matter of fact. I have only met a couple WWII vets in my lifetime. They are becoming harder to meet. But each time has been an honor.

Bernard continued to tell me stories as the minutes ticked by. I stood there listening for nearly 30 minutes. And I could have listened to him for hours. But I knew my editor would not have liked that if I listened to a man talk all afternoon and didn't come back with any copy for the paper.

Still, I listened a while longer, standing in the street.

Finally I regretfully asked Bernard if I walk him to the Barber shop just about 50 feet from where we were standing. He was thrilled. "Won't they be surprised? Can I tell them you are my girlfriend?"

"Sure," I said. And smiled.
He was grinning mischievously.

Bernard has a friend who lives in New York. They were in the service together. Both survived WWII and still talk to each other once a week, he said.

I asked him if I could call him sometime so we could talk some more. I would be very interested in writing a nice Veteran Story on a WWII vet.

"Oh, I don't think you should call me," he said. "It wouldn't be proper." He didn't want people to get the wrong idea.

I understood. So I said. "If I may be just a little forward, then Sir, here is my card. You can call me," I said.

He grinned. And walked into the barber shop.

"Look here!" he announced. "This is my new girlfriend."

I was charmed by Bernard. I love talking to older people because they are walking history books. And don't care about what they say anymore. And Bernard is still planning for a future. He is 88 years old and buying a new CD. That is optimistic.

I am so glad that I took time to help Bernard get up onto that curb. I may never see him again, or have a chance to write some of his WWII stories, but I shared 30 minutes with a hero.

I was honored.

Peace.



“Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, But beautiful old people are works of art.” -- Eleanor Roosevelt

Letters to the editor: Garrison walleye

“The ideals which have lighted my way, and time after time have given me new courage to face life cheerfully have been kindness, beauty, and truth.” — Albert Einstein

In this week's Messenger on the Mailbag page you will find politics as usual for 6 weeks before a presidential election. You will also find a little letter from a guy named Jeff Swanson of Saginaw, Texas.

He is complaining about the new paint job on the Garrison walleye. Apparently, Mr. Swanson does not like the new look of the freshly painted statute of the giant fish on the concourse. He disagrees with the caption that was printed under the photo that appeared on the front page of the Messenger on Sept. 3.

Everyone has a right to their opinion, I will give him that much. But for him to go further and state that I miss-quoted a women and her family, I have a problem with that statement.

Mr. Swanson, were you there? Umm.... no. That women I talked to and her two daughters were truly excited to be there and yes, they did say the fish was pretty.

Perhaps you were trying to be funny, Mr. Swanson. But I am not laughing.

Mr. Swanson has a cabin somewhere in the area and lives in Texas. He stated that he disagrees with the statement that it is better than new. He disagrees, along with most of the people living in and visiting Garrison, he said. I guess he has asked most of them.

That is a pretty bold statement for a non-Garrison resident to make. "Most" of the people? I don't even know the opinion of "Most" of the people, Mr. Swanson. And I talk to a lot of people in and around Garrison. Everyday. But certainly not most.

According to the Census bureau in 2000 the city of Garrison has a population of 213, 113 households, and 48 families. Then there is Garrison Township in which there were 796 people, 355 households, and 246 families residing in 2000. Add in the people just passing through town driving right by the walleye: according to MnDOT the average number of vehicles that pass through Garrison on Hwy. 169 on given day is 8,200 — on a busy summer Sunday afternoon that number jumps to 15,800.

That is a lot of people, Mr. Swanson. I am glad you have the time to pole "most" of them when you are visiting from Texas.

The folks I have talked to are glad that the walleye has been fixed up — repaired and painted. Did you know he was missing a couple fins for the past several years? The paint was faded and chipped and the stand was practically falling over. Comparing pictures of the fish before and pictures of the fish after, there is definitely a difference. He is definitely in better shape now, than he was before.

I truly believe there are not a lot of things better in life than getting new clothes, a new hair cut and color, and most definitely new shoes. Those are a few of my favorite things that always brighten my day.

Change is good for the soul. Take hair styles for instance. In the 80s we had mullets for the guys and big hair for the gals. Now? I don't know too many guys still sporting a mullet — not even Billy Ray Cyrus — and not too many gals have wild permed-looking hair and spray their bangs stiff-straight with AquaNet.

I understand that walleye is not alive. But the people I have talked to who live in the area are happy that someone took the initiative to put a fresh look on that old tired fish. I think that walleye does seem to be a little brighter.

Mr. Swanson ended his letter with this statement: "I hope that when I come back to my cabin again that they repainted our walleye to look like a walleye."

"Our" Walleye? I think our walleye looks fabulous.

Before:
After:

What do you think?

Peace.

“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it. For every truth there is an ear somewhere to hear it. For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.”
— Ivan Panin

Goldfish and groceries

I am not much of a Wal-Mart fan. There are some political reasons, but mostly because I don't get that warm-fuzzy feeling when I walk into the local Wal-Mart — which is only when I have to.

Mostly, I get a creepy feeling. I have only been in the local Wal-Mart a couple of times. Once, I needed a Halloween costume for my son and we had exhausted all other stores in the city. We walked in to Wal-Mart and found the perfect thing for $1.87 and we were out the door. We saved some money and rolled back down the highway.

Another time I was in there, was midnight when I was told in no uncertain terms by a 10-year-old, and 11-year-old and a 13-year-old that we needed bug spray and coolwhip. I know, an odd combination. It was some project the kids were planning for the next day and the mosquitoes had been terrible. We ran out of Off. And the coolwhip was some sort of trap set at their top-secret-kids-only-fort. Anyway, where can you get bug spray and coolwhip at midnight? Yep. Wal-Mart.

There are some odd ducks at that store at midnight. I am sure I looked a little odd myself carrying a combination of bug spray and coolwhip. But I had a logical explanation for those items. I think.

Still, I was a little creeped out by some of the strangeness. I didn't think I would ever go back.

Well, on Friday afternoon, Shark died. He had been one of the 29 cent feeder goldfish I bought my son three years ago. He had definitely outlived his life expectancy, but it was sad for my son nonetheless.

So yesterday, I needed to get a replacement goldfish and some groceries. Where else can you go to get a goldfish and groceries in one stop? Wal-Mart.

I don't know my way around that store at all and went up and down the isles several times looking for my items. I ran into a friend I hadn't seen in a while and met her sister. We laughed and exchanged jello recipes and were on our way.

I saw another familiar face and her daughter, we said "hi" in passing and were on our way.

Seems a lot of people I know shop at Wal-Mart. But I am still not convinced it saves money. Or time. Even for one-stop trips looking for goldfish and groceries.

And then I passed another couple I knew. I smiled. They didn't smile back. I know I am not on their top ten list of favorite people. But maybe they didn't see me and that is ok with me.

Charlie and I had all of the groceries in the cart and had used the instant hand sanitizer several times since we walked in. All we needed was the goldfish. We had to wait 10 minutes for help in the pet department.

We got the fish ($4.98) and waited in line 10 more minutes and we were out the door. Loaded up the Jeep with the stuff and my son was happy with his new fish.

So far, at least this morning, the new fish, named M.T. (kidspeak for Mark Twain (Charlie's favorite story right now) was still alive.

I just don't get that warm-fuzzy feeling from that store.

Vigilante mayor?

I write a lot of the crime beat, police blotter stuff for the paper. Last week I wrote about a local Mayor (Bock Mayor Dennis Girard) who was caught on tape tampering with a vehicle and disabling it so that it wouldn't run. When a deputy asked him about it, he admitted to the deputy that he did it. His excuse was he got the wrong car. He thought it was somebody else's.

Hummmm....

At the time the story was published, no criminal charges had been filed. Somebody sent us a tip regarding the incident and I gathered my information from the Sheriff. A citation was issued after the paper had gone to press, and formal charges are pending.

Well, in this weeks paper you will find a letter to the editor from a woman in Bock defending the intentions of the meddling mayor. She wrote that his heart was in the right place.

The letter states the Mayor and his wife "regularly" drive sober cab for people who have had too much to drink and that they have opened their home to allow people a place to sleep it off when libations have been excessive.

Apparently, she stated, that the Mayor was trying to keep a drunk driver off the road this time as well. This time, he didn't drive the person home, he disabled the car so she couldn't drive herself.

Only he got the wrong car.

The letter states that the Mayor tried to apologize to the woman whose car he messed with.

Sometimes, the words "I am sorry" have no meaning.

The letter states, "Dennis Girard's heart was in the right place. Its unfortunate that he may be punished for trying to do a good deed."

On the surface it appears from the letter to the editor that this mayor is a good person and was trying to do a good thing.

But if he was in the habit of giving sober cab rides to people why didn't he just drive the person whom he was trying to save home in the first place?

Word on the street is the driver refused his help. So the mayor took matters into his own hands. In a vigilante move, he decided the person shouldn't drive, so he tried to make it so the person wouldn't, couldn't drive.

Only he got the wrong car.

Now he thinks he can just say I'm sorry and move on.

What if the person whose car he did disable, an innocent person, was in a hurry to get to work. What if the driver had been told by the boss, "If you are late one more time you are fired. No excuses." What if the driver of the disabled car was on the way to an emergency doctor's appointment or to pick up a child from school, or a friends.

There are a lot of what ifs I could come up with. The bottom line is the meddling mayor messed with the wrong car when he tried to play cop, judge and jury.

Dudley Moore once said, "The best car safety device is a rear-view mirror with a cop in it." Perhaps the mayor should have called one. Some people need to see the bars to stop drinking too much at the bars.

Peace.

A bully in the Senate?

“You may fool all the people some of the time, you can even fool some of the people all of the time, but you cannot fool all of the people all the time.”

Abraham Lincoln American 16th US President (1861-65)


There has been a lot going on around the area that had me more than a little exasperated. I haven't blogged for a while because my mom always used to tell me if I didn't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Well, I guess that hasn't stopped me much before, so I can't let it stop me now.

I don't often voice my political views. I like to think I am not a democrat, nor a republican, nor an independent, nor green, nor any other party affiliation. I don't vote for a party -- I vote for a person.

So, here is a major quandary in the Republican party -- at least in the Senate District 16.

Sen. Betsy Wergin resigned her position to take a different job on the Public Utilities Commission. I like Betsy. While I didn't agree 100% with everything she did (I don't often agree 100% on anything) I think she tried to do a good job.

So now Mark Olson is running for a seat in the state Senate on the republican ticket. This is rather alarming to me.

He was representing district 16B in the House of Representatives since 1992 and then expelled -- kicked out -- by the House Republican caucus in December 2006.

He was asked to leave the party.

Why?

Apparently a jury of 12 of his peers agreed with the County Attorney that Olson assaulted his wife. He was found guilty of domestic assault. Although he was convicted of a misdemeanor and not a felony, the cause should set off some alarms in people's brains. He assaulted his wife.

He was convicted of one count of misdemeanor domestic assault by intending to cause fear of bodily harm. He was acquitted of intentionally inflicting or attempting to inflict bodily harm.

He said he didn't intentionally hurt his wife. That he merely grabbed her by the shoulders and placed her on the ground.

On Nov. 12, 2006 Olson's wife, Heidi, called the sheriff's office. She told deputies that her husband pushed her to the ground three times. Apparently in her words he pushed her to the ground -- "placed" her on the ground in his words -- so hard that he left bruises. Deputies noted the bruises in the initial call report.

Mrs. Olson testified in court July 2007 that she feared for her life during the confrontation. She also said he pushed her down and that he told her she ruined his life.

The incident occurred when Heidi challenged his point of view about the treatment of her 13-year-old autistic son, according to the Elk River Star, August 2007. Heidi has five children from a previous marriage.

Here you have a couple in an argument. Couples argue. That is they way it is. Apparently, this couple does not see eye-to-eye on parenting techniques. That happens, too. But, when Mark was challenged by his wife, a woman, and the mother of children that are not his biological children, and one of those children is autistic, he got angry.

Anger happens.

But he didn't stop at anger. He used his hands to hurt another person -- his wife. He used his hands to reinforce his thought process.

I take issue with any man who takes his anger to another level and hurts a woman or a child.

And get this, in the trial, his attorney tried to say that HE was the abused spouse. Heidi hit him several times in two years, the attorney said. If that was really the case, why had he not reported it? Perhaps because he was not afraid of his wife. He was not afraid that she could physically hurt him.

She did admit in court that she hit him once in the chest. Most likely a defensive action.

Olson was quoted in the Aug. 27 issue of the Messenger saying, "If I believed that I assaulted my wife, I would have resigned from the Legislature."

Hmmm.... dictionary.com says:

as·assault –noun
1. a sudden, violent attack; onslaught: an assault on tradition.
2. Law. an unlawful physical attack upon another; an attempt or offer to do violence to another, with or without battery, as by holding a stone or club in a threatening manner.
3. Military. the stage of close combat in an attack.
4. rape1.
–verb (used with object)
5. to make an assault upon; attack; assail.


He hurt his wife. She said so. She said he hurt her and that he scared her so that she feared for her life. The deputies saw bruising on her body.

He was convicted of causing fear.

He believes his conviction is unconstitutional. He doesn't believe that our court system actually helps families. He doesn't believe that we should have laws that convict people for getting angry.

He believes that couples involved in an investigation of abuse or whatever, should be allowed to be together while giving statements to law enforcement. (Perhaps so that one can continuing threatening the other?)

Apparently the defining word for Mark Olson is what he believes.
I am not sure what color the sky is in his world, but it is blue in mine.

What matters on election day is what you believe.

There are other issues on his list of positions Olson outlined in his newsletter to which I do not agree. Fortunately for him, I am not a constituent in district 16. But if I were, I wouldn't vote for him on his positions regarding abortion and global warming alone. But physical abuse is never OK. Causing someone fear for their life is never OK.

But the main issue is he is a hot head who resorts to violence when he is angry. He is a bully by definition.

Do you want that in the Senate?

Do you want that guy making laws for you?

Peace.

It's the people

“Life is partly what we make it, and partly what it is made by the friends we choose.” — Tennessee Williams


The cool thing about people is that they are all different. People watching at We Fest is about as good as at an airport. Only most people at We Fest are wearing less clothes and have had more to drink.

We could start with the outfits, or lack thereof. But I think that goes without saying. Just think of a festive crowd spending all day outdoors in the hot summer sun listening to music, doing a little dancing, enjoying some good food and a lot of beverages. As the day progresses, I think it is more than just tequila that makes some clothes fall off.

Of course, there are a few genuine cowboys (and girls) walking around in their Wranglers or Levis sporting a shiny belt buckle. Some of the buckles are genuine PBR series - and I don't mean Pabst Blue Ribbon. The buckles attach to a belt that actually holds their pants on without showing any underwear. It is nice to see jeans that fit well. Of course, they have on real boots, that have maybe spurred a horse or two. You can just tell by the way they walk.

I like talking with people. All kinds of people. And in the process of trying to sell them a pair of super soft elk skin or ostrich boots, I sometimes learn a whole lot more about their personal lives than I had really intended. Most of the people I will never see again. Some I know will be back. Some I hope will.

There was Nick from Little Falls. He has been coming to We Fest for many years, four I think he said. He is seasoned. He is 22, has two brothers and a half sister. He has had three pairs of boots in his life. He is now going on four.

Another young man, unfortunately I don't remember his name, but he said his grandfather passed away not to long ago. He was given his grandpa's old Tony Lama boots that he wore nearly everyday of his life, at least what this young man could remember. He never saw his grandpa in any other boot or shoe. The boots had been re-soled many times, but recently, he just let them wear out. The boots had holes on the sides where his toes and managed to wear down the old cowhide. Not unlike the old man himself, I imagined. People, like boots, sometimes just wear out. I imagine those boots told a story of many miles walked and hard days at work.

This young man is saving his grandpas boots. They are going on a shelf — left all tattered and worn just they way his grandpa left them — in tribute to the old cowboy. Now, this young man bought himself his first pair of Tony Lama boots from us. He hopes his will last for many years as well. And when they are as worn and broke in as his grandpas, they are going on the shelf next to grandpa's old boots.

Putting on a pair of boots just makes you walk a little taller and take on a little strut. I

People say the darndest things. My cousin Joe and I were sitting outside the shack just relaxing between rushes and watching people. Some young kids sat down next to us. The boy was 21 and was having a good time. We talked for a while and then he said, "I hope when I am your age I am still out here having as much fun as you guys are. And you look pretty good for someone in your age category, too."

Hmm... I asked him how old he thought I was. "You look 35 and he looks 37." Not too bad we both thought. As we are somewhere in that age category -- give or take a few years.

There was a group in the VIP campground who were a lot of fun. "Why Curt?" But why not Cameron?

Jen and I were able to go backstage a couple more times. While I like watching the performers from back there, I am also very interested in what goes on behind the scenes.

The entire stage is probably bigger than our entire office building at the Messenger. What the people see from out front, is only about half of it. It takes a lot of people to put on a show — any show. Think of any plays you did in high school and how many stage crew people you had working. Now multiply that by top recording artists, their bands, their sound guys, their roadies, their light guys and whomever else they need.

Then the We Fest production crew is there as well, making sure that the other crews have everything they need. It is simply amazing.


There is this little corner on the west side of the stage where all of the equipment is. I like to hang out there when I am allowed the privilage of being on stage. This is where the sound guys are. And believe me the sound is just about as good as it gets in that corner.

One small section has a couple of chairs crammed in between equipment cases. On several occassions during the performances I found a couple of crew members catching a few winks. That is totally understandable. You see, I suppose when you are a stage crew, you have seen a gazillion performers. You have done your job setting up and need to wait to tear down to be ready for the next performer. This goes on all day long for them and after the last act of the night, which usually ended around 1 a.m., their work is still not done. They have to be ready for the next day to do it all over again.

Those guys work hard. And I noticed that their work does not go unnoticed by those who depend on them. The performers thank them, and the production staff, like Tom and Kitty Kat, thank them. It all looked pretty genuine to me.

It's the people.


The performers are real people. I was most impressed by Little Big Town and Sugarland. They seem so nice to the fans and all of their crew. Each time there needed to be a guitar switch, the guy thanked his helper with a smile and a nod or a wink. And went on to perform and give that same smile and wink to the fans.

After their shows, they walked around backstage and through the VIP campgrounds like they were just ordinary people. Not snobs who thought they were too good for the campers. I think that was also a tribute to the fans at We Fest. They didn't mob them, or run screaming towards them. They walked up casually and asked if they could have their picture taken or get an autograph. Oh, I am sure some fans might have been a little worse, but for the most part, that is what I saw.


I was a fan of Billy Ray Cyrus in the 90s. He was cute, and he had that mullet thing going on. I must say, that he is still pretty cute. Afterall, he is in my age category. (he is one year older than I am.) I prefer the no-mullet look he carries now and the view from backstage was fabulous. Oh, and he sounded great, too.

It's the people.

I will miss seeing the families and friends of all of our vendor neighbors. I can't possibly mention them all, but you all are fabulous neighbors.

Even though time goes on and we go to our own little places in the world, we know we will be together again. We may think back to our week at We Fest and a tear may fall or the smile may spread wide across our face. No matter where this crazy world takes us, I don't think anything will ever change so much to the point where we're not all still friends.

So, to all of my new and old We Fest friends, Thanks, again. I had a great time. See you next year.

Peace.

Backstage on Friday

Jen and I took a little break and went back stage. We ran in to Tom Kat back there. He is the MC of the entire weekend. From what I know, he is an all-around-pretty nice guy. His wife Lynn, (Kitty Kat) also helps with stage production. I am certain they do so much more.

So, Tom Kat asked me if I would like to go on stage for a while. Surely, I wouldn't turn down that opportunity. I have seen many acts behind the scenes, and each one is different not only because of the performers, but because of each crew. And Jennifer had not had the opportunity to do so, so we went up with Tom Kat.

I did not have my big camera with me, only my cell phone camera. But here are a couple of pics I shot of Little Big Town from back stage.












Down to the right is a shot of Tracy Byrd's tour bus. Nice tire, huh?



Oh, I almost forgot. We met Pat backstage. Pat is a steel worker. He is the guy who climbs around in the steel frames and hangs all the lights for the show. I thought I took a photo, but it didn't work out.

So, we were walking around back stage talking to people who work there. We met Brian and Jim, the backstage stage steps guards. They keep guard the steps where the performers walk up to the stage.

So there at the top of the stage was a tree of some sort. It was filled with women's bras. So, I just had to ask. "Why are all those bras on that tree?"

Kenny Chesney was the main act and the closer for Friday night. He was to perform a couple hours later. Apparently, women in the audience have been known to throw undergarments up on stage while he is performing. Well, Kenny's stage crew apparently save them all. "They throw out the ratty looking ones," Brian said. But they keep the rest.

I took a picture, with my cell phone, but you will just have to trust me on this one, that it is very colorful and there were garments in all sizes.






(Brian and Jim)





(Arlyn and Barb, west gate security for back stage. Arlyn has been at the same gate for over a decade of We Fest concerts. Her husband, Don works the east gate. Barb's husband Ed works there as well, but we didn't see him much. I like to go to the same gate when I go back stage and I have been chatting with these two gals for over three years. They guard that gate with nearly the tenacity of the sentinals at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers. Nobody gets in without a pass when they are at the gate. And they are there all the time.)

Well, this is all for now. We have to get ready to set up and get back out to the boot shack. I have a ton of stories to share, so come back later for another update.

Peace.

So far at We Fest

So here we are. We arrived on Wednesday and set up the boot shack. Things went pretty smoothly. It is always fun to see the area when it is only the vendors, all happy to be there and busy doing their thing, getting ready for the 47,000 or so people to rush through the gates on opening day.

It is a reunion of sorts, too, as most of the vendors are repeats. Year after year, they come to the same spot. It is like a neighborhood, or a bunch of little neighborhoods. Everybody gets pretty close and while each booth is separate, behind the scenes we all work rather well together.

The coffee shop (they also sell smoothies and iced coffees, and so on) is right next door to the east. And to the east of that is the hot wings shack. If I am not mistaken, the same people own both of them.

Mark is own of the owners. For his real job, he is a chiropractor. Dr. Mark brings along his table and is very kind to give us each an adjustment each morning. Something that is highly cherished and much appreciated after a day of standing on your feet all day. Not to mention bending down to help people try on boots and shoes.

Dr. Mark brought with him this year a massage therapist. She has also become quite popular. As each of us are treated to an adjustment and/or massage, we start to walk taller and move a little smoother, more fluently.

And the coffee is an excellent boost as well. We will get to the chicken wings in a bit. One word of warning, I think my lips are still swollen from trying the XXX hot wings. With the very first bite, a sweat broke out upon my brow and upper lip. I am not sure what cools that burning sensation off better; water, milk, bread or beer. After a short debate, I tried them all, substituting potatoes for bread.

My lips still burn.

To the west of us are Matt and Kenny. They own a food shack. I have to be honest, I am not entirely certain what all they have, but one of the main attractions is a roast beef Sundae. It is mashed potatoes, covered in shaved roast beef and gravy, followed by more mashed potatoes and gravy sprinkled with cheese and topped with a cherry tomato. It looks a lot like an ice cream sundae and goes much better with beer.

They also sell burritos, shrimp and chicken bites and other tastey morsels. But I highly recommend the sundae.

When the gates open the very first day and the people come in, things start to get interesting.

More to come later....

On the road and behind the scenes

"Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul." -- Unknown


Hello there! I just a few hours I will be pulling on my cowboy boots and on the road heading up to WE FEST in Detroit Lakes. For those who don't know what that is (my east coast friends!) it is the premier outdoor country music festival. For three days, country fans will be entertained by some of the top names in the industry including but not limited to Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift, Leann Rimes, Kenny Chesney, Winnona, Sugarland and so many more I can't even list them all!

I have been to the Soo Pass Ranch (We Fest Land) many times over the last couple of decades. (OMG, I sound old!) I took some time off when my son was very small, but I have been back the last few years.

But, I am not just a festival goer. I work there. If you can call it that.

It is a long story of how this all got started. If you are interested, I can tell you sometime. Let me know. But the gist of it is, I work at the boot shack — JC Sales — selling western boots. That's right — cowboy boots. And cowgirl boots and sandals, too.



There we are! The JC Sales gang.

Life as a We Fest vendor is much different than that of the average festival goer. In many ways I think it is much more fun. I have been both.

But not very many people get to see the behind the scenes stuff that vendors are allowed. So, I am going to take you there with me behind the scenes — really.

Keep watching my blog this week for my life as a vendor. I will take you behind the vendor booths, the security, the maintenance, the garbage, the beer and back stage. Who knows where I will end up or who I might bump into. (Last year I ran smack into Trace Adkins. He is a really big guy and I bumped into him walking down the backstage steps — right into his belt buckle. Umm, it was a very big belt buckle.)

So stay tuned. Me and my friend Jen are hitting the road early Wednesday morning. If there is something you want to see, let me know and I will do the best I can to find it for you.

Here are a couple more pictures from last year. Enjoy and come back soon!

Peace.






“Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul” -- Plato

Addicted to texting

"The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place."
- George Bernard Shaw


So the new law went into effect in Minnesota this past week. No more texting while driving.

While I almost hate to admit it, I have driven and texted at the same time before. I have even — once, just once — been driving, talking on the cell phone with one person using the hands free head set, and texting another person. Not the smartest thing to do.

So, no more. I admit it is a bit of a distraction. Not just while driving, but all the time. I have friends whom I don't even talk to anymore. We stay in touch on a daily or weekly basis and never say a word. We just text.

We can even send and receive photos to one another by phone, so there is really no reason to have to actually meet people in person. I can actually shop with my girlfriends in three different cities at one time and we are not even connected to the Internet! Here's how it works: I can take a picture with my cell phone of any item I am looking at or thinking about buying. Put it in a text message and send it off to one of my friends. With photos attached to the text message, I'll send a text like: , "What do you think of these shoes?" with the photos attached. Or, "do you think mom would like this blanket?" or even, "do these jeans make my butt look big?"

As good girlfriends always do, they will text me back with all the right answers and advice. Even if I don't want to hear it.

But no more texting while driving. I have been going through some withdrawal symptoms. But I am getting better. It is one day at a time right now. It has been a difficult, albeit safer week on the road.

At least for now, anyway, I can still talk on the phone. I use a hands-free device that usually makes me sound as though I am talking under water with a bucket on my head. I try not to talk about anything too serious or stressful and if I need to take notes, I pull over.

But still, talking on a cell phone while driving is also a distraction. I might try ot give that up, after I recover from no more texting.

And I can still text and shop. For now.


Peace.