Original anecdotes, commentary, rumination, and occasional pontification.
NOVEMBER 4, 2020 – Well, as it turns out, I was wrong about a Blue Tsunami. The best half (apparently) of America can hope for is that Biden/Harris squeak through with 270 electoral votes. Four years ago I wondered how in the world close to half the country could support a person as patently dishonest, …
OCTOBER 30, 2020 – Wednesday evening I eschewed the news and watched a movie. (My wife worked away in her home office—in the light of a horror film called . . . BREAKING NEWS!) I scrolled through Netflix and settled on Destiny, a film in Arabic, directed by Youssef Chahine (winner of the Cannes 50th …
OCTOBER 26, 2020 – He towered above other people even though he was of modest height and for years, couldn’t rise from his wheelchair. He will always live tall in the memory of everyone who knew him . . . who knew Dean Rhodes, my brother-in-law. He died yesterday after a brief illness rendered acute …
OCTOBER 7, 2020 – Last Sunday I explored the land beyond my “tree garden” up at the lake. I was charting a route from the ravine I call Djurgården—“the deer garden,” in Swedish—up a steep, wooded slope to a glade of oaks and beyond that, a trail I call “Nor – Way”—a play on words …
OCTOBER 5, 2020 – Yesterday I rose early to watch the sunrise, but what caught my attention was the bright moon in the west. Against the clear morning sky, earth’s constant companion was as clear as could be. I was so captivated by the sharp definition of its features, I forgot all about the sunrise. …
SEPTEMBER 24, 2020 – Yesterday I stood in line for an hour to cast my ballot—affirmatively, convincingly, beyond all attempts to lose, miscount, question or disqualify that ballot. It would be no exaggeration to compare my feelings to how one feels when participating in a ritual of one’s religious organization. Granted, everyone wore a mask …
SEPTEMBER 22, 2020 – As one headline after another suggests America is the Titanic amidst icebergs in the North Atlantic, we should take measure of our ship—our country—to understand better what kind of vessel we occupy. We’re 50 states, big and small, urban and rural, coastal and inland, West and East, North and South—each with …
AUGUST 30, 2020 – Last Thursday I drove home from the Red Cabin to host on our back porch, my five-member, monthly book club gathering. Soon after pulling into the driveway, however, I had to cancel—curfews had been ordered to prevent another night of looting. I stayed for two days to catch up on things. …
AUGUST 29, 2020 – Yesterday, for the 1,000th time over the past four years, I drove by the site where a policeman shot Philando Castile less than a half mile from my neighborhood—a quiet, leafy haven of white liberalism. My wife and I know a fair amount about Mr. Castile—our oldest son is close friends …
AUGUST 17, 2020 – As I kayak along the shoreline, I admire the big pine that were much smaller when my grandparents were alive. I reflect on all that has occurred in the world since they bought this property in the fall of 1939. World War II had just begun with Germany’s Blitzkreig against Poland. …
AUGUST 14, 2020 – In these fraught times, I find peace in things that will survive our troubles. Things like . . . trees, for example. Here at the Red Cabin, we’re surrounded by thousands of trees, but I’m determined to add thousands more pine—the species that dominated the landscape here for centuries before “progress” …
AUGUST 13, 2020 – Yesterday I left the Red Cabin late. I had a dental appointment back in Minneapolis, three hours away, and was cutting it close. A client’s early morning curveball had detained me. I’d need to follow up immediately after my teeth were cleaned. With ignition, the radio yanked me into the middle …
AUGUST 9, 2020 – Early on I was destined for Ayn Rand Land. One of my grandpas was “Ragnar,” the name of the hero-privateer in Rand’s best-seller, Atlas Shrugged. My other grandpa was a businessman. My dad was an arch-conservative, meaning my mom had to go along. Then the kicker: my oldest sister, an intellectual …
AUGUST 6, 2020 – After a two-week break from breaking news, I read many anxiety-enhancing articles in today’s paper version of . . . the paper. Our delivery person never lands The Times close to our doorstep. Instead, the person randomly flings the paper at our front yard, where “All the News That’s Fit to …
AUGUST 5, 2020 – While the rest of the world battled its way through another two days, my wife and I drove from Hamburg, Connecticut to Falcon Heights, Minnesota—1,345 miles, minus the mile to and from the highway and our overnight hotel. Total drive time: 21.5 hours inside total elapsed time of 45 hours. Such …
JULY 29, 2020 – He died long before our time, but my sisters and I knew very well, people who knew him very well. He was “George B. Holman,” our maternal great-grandfather. His entrepreneurial sweat and equity were in Rutherford, New Jersey, but his rest and recreation were in Lyme, Connecticut. Among his hobbies: gardening …
JULY 27, 2020 – Yesterday, I had to take care of some business at the Lyme Town Hall. Mistaking “Public Hall” for “Town Hall,” I thought I’d walk from Lyme Light, then around the corner and down Cove Road to the hamlet of Hamburg—population 23, plus the modest yacht club, Reynold’s general store, the Congregational …
JULY 15, 2020 – In the days after 9/11, America was united, right, wrong, or indifferent—except at the time, no one was indifferent. Flags flew high. Pride stood tall. We all were “in this together.” In fact, for a short, precious time, the world was united, as reflected by the French president’s famous quip, “We’re all Americans …
JULY 14, 2020 – I’m not talking here about delusions inside the Naked Emperor’s head, accepted or acquiesced in by his supporters and enablers. I’m thinking of books labeled and acknowledged as full-on fiction. Over decades, my desultory book-reading career has involved mostly non-fiction. “With so much to know about the non-fiction world,” I’d say, …
JULY 12, 2020 – When I was little, Dad bought a cheap chunk of farmland north of town and planted 10,000 pine seedlings. Later he bought a larger, cheaper piece of prairie in a neighboring county and planted 20,000 more. His idea was to raise Christmas trees to supplement his income as Clerk of Court …
JULY 11, 2020 – After a week at the Red Cabin I’m feeling safe from humanity. I rarely even skim “the news” and rely on my wife, who reads it, to inform me if the world has in fact gone over the ever-threatening proverbial falls. I must confess, however, that yesterday I glanced at headlines. …
JULY 7, 2020 – On our way to the Red Cabin, we pass through the trim town of Cumberland, Wisconsin, population 2,170. Mom-and-pop stores line Main Street, the sole commercial street in town. At the economic center of town is an old 3M plant across from the high school football field. The most remarkable feature …
JULY 3, 2020 – On this cusp of Independence Day, I feel no shame in being American; no more shame than I’d feel imprisoned in a zoo of odd creatures, from a sloth to a turtle to a peacock to a lion to a wolf to a (breast-beating gorilla) to a playful porpoise to an …
JUNE 27, 2020 – The more our world seems to descend into chaos, the more I descend into . . . a study of history. Currently I’m still working with the Renaissance, but that period keeps pulling me back to the Middle Ages and pushing me forward into the Reformation. No matter where I land, …
JUNE 26, 2020 – I have four nieces who are stand-outs. One is also a stand-up—Erica Rhodes, comedienne-extraordinaire. Based in L.A., she’s performing this week—live and via Zoom—at the Acme Comedy Club in Minneapolis. In her routine she pokes fun at uncertainties about Covid-19, saying, “No one knows anything anymore!” Her comedic statement reminds me …