Posted October 15, 2023: Mizpah Elementary School. Graduating Class. 1951. And there I am. Between Carol and Larry. We were the tallest kids in the class all the way through school so consistently in the back row. Probably why none of the three of us achieved great fame and fortune. And over to the left, Pat. Whom, just last week, I just met for lunch in International Falls and spent a pleasant afternoon reminiscing on why, when and where all the good stuff happened (and to our relief it somewhat continues to happen). Pat and her husband Gene were teachers, and are the parents of three successful grown children. And in front Ray, who looks a bit of a wise guy there, I think. I remember he was smart, but not sure about smart-alecky. Maybe?

And below my friend Judy. Since Ray and Judy are now married and I just stayed at their home in Blackduck, more about them under Judy’s picture.

Judy and brother Marly (who’s also on the photo above, far left in back row). Probably the cutest guy in our class all the way through school. Judy is a couple of years younger and this picture was probably taken in around 1948 or 1949.

Judy and Ray got together many years ago after becoming widow and widower and reconnecting at a school reunion. Judy, the successful entreprenauer and Ray, the retired schoolteacher. Between them they have children and quite a few pieces of land and houses, apparently throughout Minnesota. Which was extremely handy for me since one of them is in the town where I was born, Blackduck, and I stayed there off and on for a couple of weeks. I’m including some photos here because Judy is most original and innovative with furniture, art, and objects purchased, found, and ordered/traded/inherited which makes the home extremely cozy and fun to explore.

Another Blackduck story. My folks’ last living friend Helen (she was much younger) died this year, a few months past her 100th birthday. Barb, her daughter who lived with and took care of her for much of her life, now lives in Blackduck in a retirement home. Robert has a few other friends connected with the family, but Barb is my last source of memories of all those visits and homemade doughnuts and coffee and (as I always mention) the women in the kitchen preparing those big “lunches” that accompanied all visits, the men out in the yard or on the couch depending on the season telling tall tales…shooting the bull…how come it’s not called gossiping when men do it? Barb invited a few of us to a small little memorial as Helen’s ashes were buried.

So here it is. The town where I was born. On a cold April afternoon. A very long time ago. Blackduck is just barely hanging on, like most small towns. There’s a grocery, gas station complex. Another gas station. A fabric shop. A dentist. A nursing home, senior residence. Graveyard.

Blackduck is on US Highway 71…I grew up at the end of a gravel road one mile north of 71 between Blackduck and Northome. One time I drove all of it from mid-Minnesota on down to Louisiana…because I could. Since I grew up on it and all of our trips to town (one town or the other…International Falls, Mizpah, Northome, Funkley, Blackduck and Bemidji) took place on it, I feel sentimentally connected.