I spent the day in Winnipeg, Manitoba on Saturday, it’s about 135 miles from where I live in North Dakota. Months ago, we got tickets for the Black Keys concert at the MTS center, which was the original intent of the trip. My son noticed that the new Canadian Human Rights museum had opened recently, so we made some time for that during the afternoon. Dalton is particularly interested in this topic for a variety of reasons, so we decided to check it out.

From the get-go, it’s apparent that this is a very special place (see pic)-the first new museum in Canada since 1967. Designed by Antoine Predock, the architecture informs the experience perhaps more than any building I’ve ever been in. Although only 5 of the 11 galleries were open now in this the very early days of this museum, the message is very clear. The many perspectives of human rights are here and most notably, their violation; going from the dark of the lower levels to the progressively lit (by mostly natural light) upper levels and ultimately the 100 meter tall viewing tower. Stories are shared through multi-media means, including music, art, film, and sound. We’re at an area called The Forks- the junction of the Assiniboine and Red Rivers- and it has been a gathering place for people for thousands of years. It’s fitting that the museum is located in this space, and even more so when learning that the dig for the site prior to construction yielded tens of thousands of artifacts, including a bronze cast footprint thought to be 4000 years old which is built into the lobby.

I didn’t want to go to the viewing tower, which is actually the penultimate area of the building on the tour; considering the stories of bravery and heroism of human experience I’d been hearing for 90 minutes, I thought I should at least try it. It was a rare warm, clear, beautiful October day in the city, and the 360 degree view bathed in the autumn sunlight was very freeing. Sharing the experience with my son and the tour group forged an unexpected bond; as I looked down at the river, it was clear we were carrying on an ancient tradition at this confluence. Gazing over the city itself with its bridges, streets and traffic, the minor league ballpark, the train station, and warehouse districts I couldn’t help but feel tied to the ritual of this meeting place. We paused in the contemplation garden as the last stop of the tour before we made our way to dinner, where we talked about the experience we’d just shared before making our way to the show.

There is a moment in every concert where the lights come up and a flash of energy is suddenly common to everyone in the hall; smiling, dancing, embracing. We’re gathering today in celebration of our human experience not far from the ancient rendezvous, where the drums sounded and voices lifted. Rock On, friends. We’ll meet again.

We’re getting deep into autumn here in northeast North Dakota, just a few blocks from the Red River of the North. I took a couple of walks in the city today, the first was around my neighborhood, where most of the houses are 100 years old or more, but so are the trees. Growing up in Nebraska, I witnessed the loss many of the old canopies due to a mass casualty event of Elm trees in the 1970’s into the ‘80’s. The postcard perfect (really, it was a postcard) cover of the old highway into the campus of the local university is minus this canvas altogether now. It occurred to me as I followed what was the old 19th century “county road” (now Reeves Drive) on my trek and it’s just absolutely peak right now. I’m probably more mindful of it as a result, and it was nearly overwhelming.

Soon, it’ll be on to the formidable task of winter, being slowly signaled in by the turn of these leaves in their deciduous cycles, and It’ll be the order of the tall and hearty fir trees to begin their long, cold vigil. The daylight changes here ‘tween the solstices is dramatic. On June 21st, sunrise is 5:29am, sunset is 9:31pm, so we’re looking almost 16 hours- even longer with the twilight on each end extending it at least an hour. We can go to a night game at the baseball park, and it’s not dark yet when the game’s over. When we close in on Dec 21st, we’ll be down to sunrise at 8:15am and sunset of 4:48 pm- a reversal of over 7 hours. I already feel like I’m going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark. When this cosmic flip occurs and the earth starts to turn its back on the sun, concordantly and semi-consciously turning away from life is easy; barricading from and cursing at the cold and wind, thinking of warmer spring days ahead, forgetting that today is the day.

This day is a Sunday, I’m caring for my daughter as we share in the simple task of doing laundry, stopping to visit about the football game or listen to some music; she has a lot of medical problems, and isn’t very verbal, but her exclamation of “wind!” is as crisp and clear as the day outside, her best expression of her ever-knowing of “the now”, as the leaves rustle in a loud, last protest on their trip to the ground- I’ll take their challenge of embracing the life force of every day that is winter here in the North Country. These are the days.

(thanks Aaron B for moving this to the front burner)