(a dream of permanence)

It’s a very late cold winters night at the Nebraska lake, complete starry night clear as thousands of small shimmering birds emerge from the snowy ground.  Taking flight, they sound like rustling leaves in a strong wind, as if their wings were thin light metal. 

Almost instantly, they settle as stars in the sky and a young man in my room touches my shoulder and says “now”.  He dissolves into small, rapidly oscillating moonlit waves on the lake, turning into more small shimmering metallic birds taking flight into the night. 

Oh! North Dakota!

I’m traveling again for work, this time to a diabetes conference in Indianapolis. I enjoy seeing different cities and places, and sometimes I encounter something unexpected (Princeton, NJ), usually reflecting my own ignorance. I meet people who live and work in these locales, and they all have something good to say- albeit, I am getting this through the filter of convention, hotel, corporate, university, or restaurant business, but they all have “something”.

I get inquiries about where I live (often, most know nothing about us as a state), and I don’t have trouble saying things they find interesting. This reinforces in my own mind about what I’ve always see as an inferiority complex often on the part of many North Dakotans. With a few exceptions (cue, Fargo), I have found it perplexing in the 28 years I’ve lived here. We wonder why we don’t have things big cities have (always the strange comparison to the Twin Cities, which is 5 times the size of our state), our standard of natural beauty are mountains in neighboring states, forgetting altogether the remote rugged painted canyons and of our badlands and our sweeping grasslands. I live in a former glacier bed! Dinosaurs lived here. It’s spectacular if you think about it.

Instead, we obsess over racist idiots in the news, who certainly don’t represent us. Somehow, we think dysfunction in government speaks for all of us all the time, when often, it doesn’t. Somehow, 2 or 3 horrible weeks of winter weather is represented as many months of not being able to be outside.

I get to travel all over our state for work, too. North Dakota can be whatever we choose. It’s our choice to make. I live in a community that really inexplicably came back from a devastating flood, and much younger than before. Fargo and Bismarck are booming, and dare I say, have a modicum of “hip”. I can get great coffee in places like Williston. I walk through the park and see happy young families. Have you watched a storm move over the open prairie? It’s positively spiritual. And the sunsets, my god, the sunsets.

I know we can’t be everything for everybody, no place can. And sure, we have problems we need to overcome, everyplace does. I say, find what we are North Dakota, and embrace it.

photo credit dansorensonphotography accessed 8-4-17

Three airports, a shuttle, a limo, a couple of wheelchairs, and a lightning strike 

 I’ve had a few weird days of travel on my way out to New Jersey and back to learn about a new insulin product- on the way to the east coast, we had quite a few delays due to bad weather around the country. 

Due to fly into Newark, we eventually landed in DC at Dulles, as New York/New Jersey airports are “closed” due to all Of these diversions – but, they had shuttles waiting for us. No problem right? Except It was a 3 1/2 hour shuttle ride, leaving at 11pm. Rolling through Baltimore and Philadelphia, I was ultimately going to Princeton, so I waved as we went by the Ivy League berg trudging the additional 30 minutes to the confirmed destination of the Newark International Airport.   

Much to my relief, my car service was still waiting- which I didn’t know, as my phone had gone dead, resuscitated by a $10 battery pack purchased at the last possible stop along the New Jersey turnpike shortly before Newark, and I discovered the message.  

Reversing back 30 miles to Princeton in wooded rural New Jersey, considerably more comfort in the Lincoln Town Car than the free airport shuttle (which, in retrospect, seemed a lot more like prison transport for their “day” job) I arrived at the hotel at 3:30 AM EDT. 

On the return home today, this time actually flying out of Newark, I bypassed a giant security line with my usual wheelchair assist service- good thing, because I just got to the gate in time to witness a brawl between 2 large black women. Apparently, one was drunk, and the other didn’t care for that, but despite a lot of experience in this area, I was unable to ascertain which one was which. “VACATION ISNT ABOUT BEING DRUNK ALL THE TIME”. “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT”.

My flight had some minor delay, apparently unrelated to the fight, but I had a 28 minute layover in Minneapolis to get to my next gate and flight home to Grand Forks. Soon that was down to 18 minutes, but with only 8 gates separating. I start flipping though some airport hotel options (Lisa is messaging me some too at this point), just in case. This takes on a slightly more maniacal tone upon our initial descent, but I decide I’m “all in”, a perfect strategy for a man with an old gambling problem. 

As we are taxiing to the gate, lightning strikes the infield at the airport, which necessitates shelter of ground crews, and no use of jet bridges. I’m now down to a 2 minute “layover” when I enter the airport.
I’d been first informed that there would be no wheelchairs, but in fact there were 2- I picked the one with a bigger attendant (albeit, older) who I thought could probably run whilst pushing my conveyance. It’s now departure time for my other flight to home. 

He did run, even running down the moving sidewalks (where wheelchairs aren’t allowed- he asked me not to “rat him out”). I’m snapping nitro tabs and skittles by now to fight off Angina and low blood sugar, its going to be a razor thin margin, I’m ready to beat people with my cane. By any means necessary, I am making this flight. I get a flash message my bag has gone to baggage claim- not my connecting flight- It’s getting crazy.  

The same lightning strike was still delaying my flight for North Dakota- the last flight of the day- but that change wasn’t on the big board, so I didn’t know.

I slap a $20 in his hand as he’s sucking air, and board the little commuter jet. We fly through a little turbulence and lightning on the way out of the metro area winging our way to “fly over” territory, home.  
What can I say? I’m Eric.

Route 66, Two Rivers, a Classic Ballpark, and Great American Band

My travels often get me to Chicago at the head of Route 66 on the banks of Lake Michigan and to the old Northside neighborhood known for baseball.  This was a different kind of night. 

A joyous show tonight with perfect weather and the history and tradition of 2 Great American Institutions; Century old Wrigley Field and The Half century old Grateful Dead (well, at least Dead & Company this time around) finding a confluence, not unlike the Chicago and Illinois rivers along the banks of Lake Michigan in Chicago- the great American city and long time and frequent host of this great American Band.

The first set was enjoyable and well played, but the second set was one for the ages for this band. An extremely hot Dancing in the Streets into Playing in the Band took the crowd from feet to heart to head in a completely organic and righteous way.  
The invocation of Jerry, although that was yet to be revealed fully, began as Oteil sang a pure and graceful Comes a Time. Scarlet Begonias was inspired, again incanting the dancers rolling into a unique and very well played transition into Fire on the Mountain, the latter also sung well by Oteil. 

A subdued but somewhat fierce The Other One followed out of space, with John displaying a dense psychedelic core not displayed in his own solo work. To say his playing was remarkable on this song would be an egregious understatement. 
It’s a cliche, but Jerry “was in the room” in a city that loved him and where he made his last live appearance when Bob offered a heartfelt and heartbroken tribute of Days Between to his old Marin County musical brother. A spirited Not Fade Away allowed John the chance to bridge the decades yet another, with solid rock and roll stylistic touches. The “Fare Thee Well” chorus of Brokedown Palace left hardly a dry eye. 

Maybe the most “complete” show I’ve seen by this band, (in person, For certain) a strong case made in Bobby’s on stage unspoken musical endorsement of his new musical brother, John Mayer. One can only hope for the future of this group.

The Old Municipal Fort

Fort Snelling is a military installation in the Minneapolis/St. Paul metro area (actually an unorganized municipality within the metro of about 500 people) that was originally commissioned pre-civil war in 1820 as For St. Anthony through WW2, decommissioned, and recommissioned after that war. It’s at the junction of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers, and was the home base. Designed by Colonel James Snelling (who died of dysentery and “brain fever” in 1828. Many of the buildings still stand, and although in disrepair, they are now preserved as a state park. A Minnesota Star-Tribune story from June 6, 2010 notes that things were “looking up for the Fort” in terms of its preservation.

I am flying in to the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, and on one of the runways as you land, you get a great, albeit brief view of the old military post buildings of brick. I’ve been fascinated with that over the years in my many take offs and landings here. My Grandfather Augustus Julius Johnson, was a native of Sweden (b.1887) and WW1 veteran-my dad was a Vietnam veteran, I’m told that’s an unusual pairing of a father and son with those 2 wars. Grandpa A.J. went on to be a Lutheran Minister in Minnesota and Nebraska, dying in 1961 and interred in the national cemetery here, so I always have a thought of him as well in my travels here. Take a look at this history the next time you’re landing at MSP.

On The Trail

I spent the weekend in Omaha, Nebraska for a family event this weekend. I’ve made the trip through this wide flat part of the Missouri River valley countless times in the last 25 years from my home in North Dakota. 

Sargeant Floyd Bluff near Sioux City, IA is a famous spot along Lewis and Clark’s expedition of 1804-06, as it is where the only death of a member of the party took place. Today as we leave Omaha, I’m looking out at Council Bluffs, IA. This was the junction of the first meeting with the Otoe by Lewis and Clark very early in their journey. 

About 50 years after this historic “council”, Council Bluffs, then a city known as “Kanesville”, was the traditional starting point for the Mormon Trail, paralleling along the Platte River westward to the Oregon Trail, near-joining near present-day Grand Island, NE. As a youth, we’d “tube” the Platte near Kearney, NE and would occasionally find small sections of both trails, connecting us to the often difficult travels of those early pioneers. 

 I’m watching the Bluffs go by as our travel is much less arduous, as we can be all the way home in several hours- a trip that took weeks or months for those just a few generations ago- connected this weekend by the 80th birthdays of my mother and my uncle, hearing their stories of 19th century ancestors they knew firsthand.  

Twenty

As everyone in our area knows, tomorrow April 19) is the 20th anniversary of the massive flood of 1997, followed by a fire that destroyed a significant portion of downtown. My out of state friends may not know this, but some will recall as I post this- 53,000 people were evacuated, the biggest civilian evacuation at that time in history. Many will recall the 100+ inches of snow that winter of ’96-97. I’ve posted twice before on this flood and it’s aftermath, but today, of course, is very different. https://standingatthegatesofthewest.com/2016/02/27/the-park/
https://standingatthegatesofthewest.com/2014/08/06/rolling-on/

I am finding this anniversary to be somewhat traumatic; I had been in Grand Forks less than 5 years at that time, and our house on Reeves near Lincoln Park (which was a neighborhood then) took on significant damage. My kids were little, and they have little memory of the event.
I also lost over 4,000 vinyl records, a lifetime collection up to that point.

It was weeks before we returned to our home, and many things have happened since then that were life altering. However, I chose to stay which was an excellent choice, and I’ve developed more friendships than I could imagine. My kids still live here, too.

We can celebrate our strength as a community, but I think there will be some who feel like I do, and we can all help each other now as we did then.

Oh, and I returned to the Historic Southside Neighborhood 5 years ago, about 8 blocks from where this photo was taken. My house was built in 1885- and survived the flood of 1897 and 1997. We all roll on, like mighty Red as it flows swiftly and nearly silently on the other side of the flood protection system 4 blocks away- now, it’s a nice place to walk, bike, or cross country ski- where some of the real healing takes place, even today.

(photo credit- Grand Forks Herald)

Just another night in Sky Club (or the end times)

The computers are down for Delta Air Lines at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport on a Sunday night, and an already angry post-Election society spills over into the Delta Sky Club, where those who can afford the $450 annual fee for unlimited booze and coffee are taking cover from the masses already sleeping on floors. I’m concerned it won’t be long before businessmen will start engaging each other, swinging plastic display poster roll up tubes in a battle to the death to get the last scoop of trail mix and dribbling of well bourbon before flights to Hibbing, Duluth, and Fargo come back up on the big board. Don’t be fooled by the genteel nature of those drinking from a glass, it’s about to get ugly with the front desk when the bottles start flying. Some of the elderly in here must be “holding” oxycodone, so they’ll be doomed soon enough. 

The horror outside in the general gate areas must be getting more grotesque by the minute, as the handicap carts narrowly miss unsuspecting infrequent flyers. A hipster glides by me, having already chewed holes in his Burberry scarf, a wild look in his eye searching for a latte or IPA. I think of tripping him with the handle of my cane just to match the rising tide of aggression, but he’s too fast, and I doubt if he is carrying a lot of cash- cash I’ll need in case society collapses tonight before the Delta network morphs into SkyNet and launches every nuclear missile around the world. I should be OK, here by the fire, in Sky Club, so I’ll just wait it out. Or at least until my flight is ready for Grand Forks, ND in 2 hours.

Venusian Skies

For the past couple of weeks, we’ve had an extraordinary view of Venus starting before dusk, about as bright and easy to locate as it gets. Of course, that means if we were standing on Venus, Earth would be easy to see and locate in the Venusian night sky as well. It’s interesting to think about what our home planet would look like from this perspective, and of course, we’ve seen Earth from Mars with the rover missions there.

Venus’s weather is hot and terrible with 200+ mph winds nearly constantly- there are no “seasons”, and the atmosphere is almost all carbon dioxide. Long hostile to any life that may have been there sometime in the last 4 billion years (at least, we think), Venus is close to the same size as Earth, but spins in the opposite direction. As our closest planetary neighbor, it’s been studied going all the way back to the Mayans, and Galileo made a detailed study of it as well. Venus was the first to have an interplanetary probe, going back to 1962, when NASA’s Mariner 2 landed and determined the surface temperature to be 880 degrees F. Many mountains and volcanoes cover the planet, and its bright white appearance comes from heavy cloud cover reflectance and significant albedo.

As I stand on the snowy ground of the North Plains on the cold clear night on planet Earth, I look to the horizon and think of our blue marble in my mind’s eye from the perspective of our solar system neighbor, keeping us close company on our infinite journey through time and space.