Been up since 4am, had to milk the cows before I fed the sheep and chickens, weeded the carrots and moss rose, put medicine on the dog’s foot, let the orphaned ducks out of the pen, and fed the kids lunch…had I been mom! Or rode with Ike to where we’re logging in the woods out toward Effie…trees falling…it’s what I’d do…if I were dad.

But that was then and this is now, and I’m me, and I’m in Grand Rapids, Minnesota at Robert and Marsha’s and we got up around 7am, drank coffee and groused about the world as old people tend to do. Then we ate summer sausage sandwiches because we felt like it, did wordle, scrolled the news, cursed most politicians and all billionaires, and now it’s time to go to work. Robert and Marsha up town for errands, me to wonder what to write in my journal/blog this fine (very) smoky morning…fires here and there in both US and Canada.

The only serious-light topic on my mind lately, besides (almost) eminent death and fascist leadership, is this funny (as in strange) distancing I feel from life. It’s not unpleasant; in fact, it is quite likely a normal part of being in this old-old age category. It makes sense after all, that if one is soon departing home and family (or the whole world), a certain amount of relinquishing an attachment to any one of the aforementioned, a little at a time, is easier than waking up one day and realizing, ‘oh damn, I have to be outta here by 10.’ Anyway, I’m thinking a lot about saying farewell to places and people in Minnesota this visit. As I’m sure I’ve said to all and sundry before, the likelihood of being back again, at least once or twice, is high, but maybe not for two whole months with the opportunity to drive around and visit old buddies and go back up to the ‘old place’ multiple times. And have lefse for breakfast several weeks in a row. And immerse in green. And rarely hear an engine of any kind in a woodsy niche in this smallish town.

I stopped by the Forest Hill Cemetery in Northome to say Hi to mom, dad, grandma and grandpa. Speaking of the time to distance oneself just a bit and consider the next move.

So, here’s a paragraph or two about Minnesota Nice, books, friends, and butter.

Minnesota Nice: We Minnesotans are polite and well-mannered toward one and all, lending our state a pervading pleasantness unbroken by the most critical of outsiders. Although some of those outsiders do claim that the niceness only holds until one’s back is turned; then supposedly we are as snippish and snappish as the rest of humanity. For just a minute, I’m going with the former, having just had lengthy exchanges with Koochiching County officials in International Falls.

Here’s a story: A few years I had the lengthy history of my family’s bit of Northwoods land’s previous ownership investigated. County staff went out of their way to do extensive research and copying to provide me with quite a stack of info. Two days ago, I called with a couple of further queries and not only did they remember me, and offer their ongoing help with a request that went beyond whatever a device can produce and a further device deliver, but they did so willingly and most agreeably. I know I’m making kind of a big deal out of a small thing…and maybe ‘ya had to be there’ but I swear it was above and beyond. Maybe it’s because the Falls (as International Falls is known by all Minnesotans) is on the Canadian border. How’s that for a snippish comment about life in the lower 48, including Minnesota, at this point in time?

I don’t have pictures of the fabulous staff at the Koochiching County offices, especially the office of Recorder, instead here are two old photos grabbed at random from the web, hopefully not leading to my jail time for copyright infringement. It surely is a long time since the Falls was down to 60 below, in fact last week was supposed to be at or near 100° F Above. Anyway, I’m driving up in early August to visit a friend, perhaps I’ll return with some fine photos of my own.

***

Books: Ah yes, my favorite favorite topic. And this is what I’m reading … obviously not to make myself feel better about the world! First “Wild Swans: Three Daughters of China” by Jung Chang. I saw ‘Wild Swans…’ on a bookshelf in an airb&b in Johannesburg a few years ago (travel bragging…) and vowed to get it when I returned home—which didn’t happen until a few months ago. I just finished it and highly recommend. It’s a memoir of three generations living from the days of the revolution that brought Mao to power through the end of his reign of mostly terror. It’s a good read in terms of the writing, but it’s also an authentic and moving personal story and a well-told history. If, like me, you knew the broad outlines of China’s time under Mao but relatively few details outside of the Cultural Revolution, this is a great, and not overly ponderous filler. Also interesting to note no few similarities between perpetually insecure and brutally reactionary Mao and our very own wannabe (and almost there) dictator.

And then there’s “Regime Change: Inside the Imperial Presidency of Donald Trump” by Haberman and Swan. I’m early into it and, of course, it’s hilarious and terrifying. Hilarious because the cast of characters is truly right out of central casting for roles in the darkest of  comedies and terrifying because … well … yeah. I’m guessing anyone who follows news of the joker-as-president will know much of what’s in the book, but I expect to learn a few new facts and, almost more importantly, to confirm what I already know through two journalists I trust.

As a reward…I also just finished a brand-new Nordic Noir (“Hide and Seek” by “The Chestnut Man” author, Soren Sveistrup) which is said to be better in book than TV format…but then most stories are. Reading about trump and a serial killer simultaneously makes the latter look positively sane, benign even.

***

Friends: I have school friends in Minnesota, a New Mexico/Minnesota friend, and friends who are primarily Robert and Marsha’s friends but whom I also claim after all of these years.

A most lovely homemade ice cream and strawberries gathering with three of the R & M-initiated  friends was held a few days ago out at Barb’s place in the woods, a home I’ve visited many times over the years. It is a magical kingdom of sorts (there are two such kingdoms in friend-territory), more about that later. Barb’s is surrounded by a thick forest on the edge of a small lake, some miles from town, huge bear and wolves and Big Foot prowl the edges. I may have lied about the latter. Anyway, Barb, Mary, Patty, and I had a fine visit over treats and talkiness. Mary and Patty stopped by Albuquerque for a few days of rainy balloon fiesta last fall and I was lucky enough to meet their most interesting sleeper/camper vehicle and to learn about Mary’s extensive kayaking experience. She’s known around here as the ‘kayak lady’ and has been on all Itasca County’s 1007 lakes. (“The Kayak Lady: One Woman, One Kayak and 1007 Lakes” by Mary Shideler) I forgot to take eating-ice-cream pictures, but here’s Mary on another travel vehicle.

Finally. Butter. Good butter—my life’s most important sustenance. My mission to find it wherever I am, eat it, treasure it. And I found the best I’ve tasted so far besides my oft mentioned Setesdal Valley Extra Salty Butter. Countryside Creamery Pure Irish Butter. From Ireland. Salted. Kerrygold, available in every single store in the US must be made for Americans’ sorry butter tongue because it is waxy and salt-free! This Irish Butter, available at Aldi’s (a sort of cousin of Trader Joe’s), is the real deal. Yes, butter as god intended it. Salty, Creamy, Salty….

If anyone cares and can finance me, I would be willing to travel all over Europe sampling and recommending butters for the apparently small, but oh so Discriminating, US market. First class airfare, with an assistant to book hotels and carry my bag. Still, that would be so much cheaper than most trade delegations and actually produce more worthy results.

July 21, 2006