Action Entertainment
  • Home
  • Great Northern News- the paper!
    • E-Edition! Read Now!
  • About
  • Contact
  • Events
  • More...
    • Nisswa Stagecoach
    • Cozy Theater

Great northern news

Formerly our neck of the woods
​starring the unique people, businesses and entertainment in the lakes area and beyond

Legend of the Skull

2/27/2017

2 Comments

 
​By Jerry Mevissen
Author, That Reminds Me
    Pre-historic Bison Remains Found in U.S. 71 Extension- Menahga Messenger headline, July 1950
    A portion of a human skull was found by persons canoeing on the Crow Wing River near Cottingham Park. They reported their discovery to the Sheriff’s Department, and deputies recovered the remains. Test results determined that the skull was between 600 and 700 years old. - Sebeka Menahga Review Messenger, September 2002
    Before the sun opened, the sky was a rubble of clouds the color of summer flowers and autumn maples. A crow announced the birth of day. Young coyotes yelped from faraway woods. Another pack answered. Then it was quiet, still.
    Dew-dampened grass quieted a crouching band of hunters. They advanced, one by one, in an arc, each carrying two sapling poles. On the end of the poles, a thong held brilliant feathers and scraps of fur. The hunting party was large – all the men of the village.
    Within the arc of hunters, a bull buffalo stood sleeping, his shaggy head drooping to the ground, his horns catching the glint of early morning sun. Cows and calves lay sleeping. The hunting party arced from a creek bed to encircle the sleeping herd. When the arc was complete, the lead hunter Big Bear sprang from the grass. All the hunters stood, waving their poles, running toward the herd, whooping, shrieking, chanting. The buffalo stumbled and scrambled away from the encircling hunters into the creek bed. The mud slowed their advance. The bull, biggest and heaviest, propelled by his speed lunged forward and churned the mud in an attempt to rise. A cow followed. Her calf, lighter and buoyed by clumps of cattails, advanced toward the stream, tripped, and lay tangled and trembling.
    The hunters charged the struggling prey, dropped their poles, and brandished flint lances and knives. Big Bear hopped, hummock to hummock, to the bull, straddled him, and drove a knife into his neck.
The bull bolted and bucked, twisting his massive head in a frenzied arc. He forced a front leg forward, kicked with the rear. Big Bear felt the bull’s struggle for survival, felt the bull’s hot muscled body through his leggings, smelled his musky sweat. He grabbed a massive horn in one hand and forced the knife deeper, deeper. His hand was red with the heady intoxicating odor of blood. The bull bucked with his last burst of strength, then lowered his head and trembled his final quakes.
Big Bear twisted the bull’s head and met his dying gaze. He inhaled the final snorts of hot breath, then lay silent, still astraddle the bull. He pulled the bloodied knife from the bull’s neck, raised his bloodied arms and hands, and released the bull’s spirit into the morning sky.
Calves scrambled toward the water and belly-crawled through reeds. Younger hunters followed, hopping from earth clod to clod. Young Bear Paw reached a calf, jumped on his back, and brought him to his belly in mud. Bear Paw arced his knife as his father had instructed and felt the calf surrender. He lifted the calf’s head out of muck as it struggled and gasped, then crawled forward until his head was over the dying animal’s nostrils to breathe its dying breath.
Butchering was quiet and efficient. Hunters dragged the buffaloes from mud to dry ground, skinned and gutted them, and divided the carcasses into transportable-sized chunks. Other men laced the sapling poles together into travois. The hides and flesh were divided among the hunters, and the horns and a shock of hair were cut from the skulls. By the time the sun was high, the hunters formed a procession home, along the creek bed to where it joined the Cat River and along the river to where the Cat joined the larger river known as Raven’s Wing.
Bear Paw and his father assembled a harness of dried buffalo skins, knotted it to the travois, and slipped the straps over their shoulders. One moon and another sun would appear before they returned to the village. They pulled as equals, in lock step, over the path of flattened reeds and grass toward the woods where the sun rose. The procession of hunters was quiet. Their steps, quick and strong; their eyes rotated from the path ahead to the perilous woods. They plodded along the creek bed, the sun at their backs until they arrived at a site where they would camp for the night.
The hunting party set up camp in a circle, carcasses in the center. Renegade tribes of stragglers who had been ousted from their villages prowled the area and wreaked revenge by ambushing a lone hunter and robbing him of his game, or kidnapping a young berry picker who strayed beyond her mother’s view.
When the hunters had built a fire near the heap of carcasses, they impaled strips of buffalo meat on sharpened sticks and roasted them in the flames. While they ate, they talked in low monotones about the leap onto the mired buffalo’s back, the deftness of the swing of the knife, the labored final breath as the spirit escaped the body.
After they ate, the men huddled by the fire in the clear cold night. They filled their pipes with tobacco and smoked. Bear Paw sat behind his father, behind the ring of senior hunters. Big Bear motioned him into the circle and handed him the pipe. Trails of sparks spiraled up to the sky and returned to earth in the form of snowflakes.
In the morning, the ground was white. When Bear Paw peered from under his sleeping robe, other young men fed the fire. The party ate scraps from last night’s meal and broke camp for the final day’s trek to the village. The hunting party became a winding ribbon of men and travois, skirting the Cat River banks. Snow fell and covered the sun. Wind blew from the direction of the setting sun and propelled them toward the village.
When the sun was at its highest point, they stopped. Bear Paw retrieved a handful of dried cranberries from a bag tied to his leggings. He scooped drinking water from the river in a trough of birch bark. The wind blew colder, and ice formed along the shore. From upstream, scattered floes of ice scraped against the shore like flint chipping against flint.
When the sun lowered behind them, they trudged through banks of fresh snow. At intervals, the leaders of the procession would step to the side and pass the chore of breaking fresh snow to the second travois. The party would be at the mouth of the Cat River before the sun disappeared behind the pines. The wind roared and snow blew in circles. The village was a short trek ahead, where the river turned and flowed toward the Bright Star, then rounded a bend and flowed toward the Big River.
Big Bear and Bear Paw finished their rotation at the head of the procession and rested beneath an uprooted pine. The roots lifted the earth and created a shelter for small animals. Fresh rabbit tracks dotted the snow. Bear Paw thought of catching a rabbit and presenting the soft hide to his betrothed as a wedding gift. He told his plan to his father who assented. The profusion of rabbit tracks promised a quick and easy catch. Bear Paw fashioned a snare from strings of raw hide, and placed it where the tracks disappeared in the roots. He climbed atop the root clump and waited.
The hunting party continued the final leg of the trek without them, toward the smell of smoke from the huts and the riverside clearing. Mothers and children would welcome the hunting party. Tonight the aroma of fresh buffalo roasting in the huts would permeate the village. Heroic legends would be created and told for generations – the slaughter of the bull, the young buck’s first kill. Women would unwrap the bulky hides and marvel at the size and warmth they would provide.
Bear Paw and his father waited at the uplifted root. The wind blew and daylight escaped the sky. Big Bear smoked his pipe and felt his son’s eagerness to present a gift to his bride – tanned rabbit skin, large enough to sew for mittens or slippers. The snow dampened all sound except the wind. Bear Paw concentrated on the snare and cocked his arm, awaiting the victim.
A sharp rock whistled over Big Bear and struck Bear Paw on the brow. He fell toward his father and collapsed on the fresh snow. Blood gushed from the wound and dyed the snow a brilliant red, even in fading light. Big Bear lifted his son’s shoulders and dragged him between two fallen logs. A party of three renegades, distracted by the cache of buffalo meat and folded hide bound to the travois, quarreled over the spoils. Big Bear carried his son from the cove of logs toward the river. Snow fell in clumps and softened the ridges of his footprints.
Big Bear knew the custom of renegade bands scalping their victims and brandishing the spoils to gain stature. He knew he could not outfight three men. He knew his son’s body was relaxed and lifeless. He crept blindly through the snow, along the river in the direction of the village. He reached a point on the shore that abutted an island and stepped into the icy water. On the island, he lowered his son’s body in the reeds and righted the broken cattails in his path.
The snow fell. No moon shone. Big Bear heard a dry branch snap. The renegade band had begun the search for their victim. Big Bear could escape their attention and return to the village alone, but he couldn’t carry his lifeless son. He heard another twig snap further down the bank. The renegades were circling and returning.
Big Bear leaned over his son, inhaled his spirit and breathed his blessing into the lifeless body. He dragged his son to open water on the far side of the island and eased him into the stream. The body hesitated, then began a slow float away, gliding with ice floes. Before it disappeared, it was covered with snow, at one with the river making its way to the fast current, past the village where the river turns toward the Bright Star, past the bend, flowing, forever flowing to his grave.

This essay is one of many appearing in Mevissen’s latest book, That Reminds Me, available at www.jerrymevissen.com.
2 Comments

Wandering Waxwings

2/20/2017

0 Comments

 
By Judd Brink 
​Owner of MN Backyard Birds



Minnesota has two waxwing species: the Cedar Waxwing (Bombcyilla cedroum) and Bohemian Waxwing (Bombcyilla garrulous). Both are often found feasting on winter fruits such as mountain ash and flowering crabapple in the Lakes Area. In some years huge flocks of these birds cover fruiting trees by the hundreds or even thousands, stripping the tree of its fruits. For many bird watchers or photographers it’s quite an impressive sight to observe. At first glance it would appear that their wings were dipped in wax, as the name implies.


The Cedar Waxwing is the most common and can be found year-round, compared to the larger Bohemian Waxwing, which is only a winter visitor to the state. The Cedar Waxwing is approximately 7.5” in size with light brown back and chest with a light wash of yellow on the belly becoming white under the tail. A few field marks to look for include a crest atop the head, yellow tips on the tail, black facial mask and the red wax like beads on the wings.


Cedar Waxwings nest late in the season to take advantage of available fruits to feed their young. They prefer to nest near water in wooded or orchard like habitats, and are also very fond of feeding on the fruits of red cedar (Juniperus virginiana) even though it’s not a true fruit but more like a cone. This is fitting to their common name (Cedar Waxwing), and sometimes the birds are just referred to as “Cedars.” Both species are very erratic in their movements as they can be abundant one year to nonexistent the next year. The Cedar Waxwing is often replaced in the north by Bohemian Waxwings come winter.


The Bohemian Waxwing is only found during the winter season, as it is a very nomadic species in search of fruit. First reports in the state often come in December from the Grand Marais area along the North Shore where Mountain Ash is present. In a year when fruit is abundant, birds can number in the hundreds and will pick a tree clean in very short time before moving on to another area. They seem to be “tame” and approachable as they gorge themselves on fruit, paying little attention to anything else. As the fruit goes through the frost and thaw process the fruits become fermented producing alcohol which causes the birds to fly a little awkward.


The Bohemian Waxwing is slightly larger at approximately 8.5” in size, appearing darker in color. Other features are very similar to the Cedar Waxwing. There are two distinct features that will quickly identify the waxwings from each other: the Bohemian has rusty undertail coverts and is more colorful when looking at the “waxy” wing tips. Occasionally they can be found together feeding in the same fruit tree but the differences can be noticeable at close range. Their feeding behaviors are also very similar as they tend to hang or cling to the fruit cluster of the Mountain Ash sometimes going upside down.


The breeding rage for the Bohemian Waxwing extends up to Alaska and Northern Canada. Their preferred habitat is associated with boreal forests of Spruce and Tamarac. Nesting habits also closely resemble the Cedar Waxwing.


Look for fruiting trees like Mountain Ash and flowering Crabapples near parks, schools, cemeteries, hospitals, churches, arboretums and nature centers to find feeding waxwings this winter. Waxwings can sometimes be attracted to your yard by placing out a heated water bath and/or placing frozen fruit out on the ground. You can also plant fruiting trees like the ones above or try planting highbush cranberry, a native shrub that keeps its berries well into winter. I did some birdscaping myself at my new home this past fall, planting two varieties of flowering crabapple and two mountain ash trees.


A few other winter visitors to watch for include Varied Thrush, Townsends Solitaire, Evening Grosbeak and Pine Grosbeak as they also seek out any remaining fruits. Happy Birding!


Judd Brink is the owner of MN Backyard Birds in the Brainerd Lakes area. MN Backyard Birds provides birdscaping for homeowners and businesses to attract and enjoy more colorful songbirds. The business was recently featured on Kare 11 news with Belinda Jensen and MN Bound with Ron Schara. For more information about birdscaping or a free backyard consultation visit birdminnesota.com or email us at info@birdminnesota.com


0 Comments

Tradition, Taste and Love, Baked Into Every Pie

2/13/2017

0 Comments

 
By Kate Perkins
Editor
Sisters Elsie Van Horn and Mary Etta Durham, alongside Mary Etta’s daughter, Debra Flategraff, stand around a stainless steel countertop at the Schaefer’s Foods bakery, assembling dozens of pies in a seemingly effortless assembly line.
​

Of course, anyone who’s baked a pie knows that they can be tricky. Rolling the crust to a nice, rounded shape at the right thickness, getting it into the pie pan without rips, and making a presentable top crust are all challenges. But after tens, probably hundreds of thousands of pies, the women behind Grandma Bettie Jane’s Pies have it down.

Mary Etta combines a crust mixture with water until she finds the right consistency, then forms the crust into baseball-sized balls. She rolls out the balls of dough to a uniform thickness, her hands operating on pure muscle memory, before placing the crust in a pie tin. Elsie fills the shells with berries, levelling them off perfectly. Sometimes she adds or removes just a few berries to get the filling just right. Then, Elsie takes a top crust, folds it in half, and places it on top of the pie. She unfolds the crust and the pie goes to Debra, who puts a perfect, pretty pinched edge around the pie before putting it in a plastic case and loading it onto a cart. Each of the women is patient with each other and obviously happy to be working with one another, and with the other Schaefer’s employees who are in the bakery or stop by.

The assembled pies are then frozen, and then the nighttime bakery crew bakes pies every night so they’re fresh the following morning.

Today Debra and Elsie are the main force behind Grandma Bettie Jane’s Pies, though they get help from Mary Etta, the woman behind the well-known Mary Etta’s Pies business that many Lakes Area residents will remember. All three have been making pies for years, but the business side of things was started by Mary Etta. After making pies for restaurants and bakeries for years, she decided to start her own business.

“If I was going to make money for everyone else, I figured I might as well make it for myself,” Mary Etta said. 

The Mary Etta’s Pies business was born in 1999, but after many years with the business, Mary Etta made the decision to sell. She worked with the purchasers for a few years before retiring. When Mary Etta’s Pies seemed to fall off the radar, Schaefer’s invited Mary Etta to make pies in their bakery. Mary Etta was joined by her sister, Elsie, and her daughter, Debra, and together they make Grandma Bettie Jane’s Pies, named for Ted Schaefer’s mother.

Most of the time Debra and Elsie take the lead on making pies, and Mary Etta takes it easy after years of working two jobs (she was both a pie baker at area bakeries and restaurants,and the head cook at Pequot Lakes Schools for 30 years). But, Mary Etta still comes in to help with the baking from time to time. All three women are from the Jenkins area, making Grandma Bettie Jane’s a true local, family-run operation.

All the Grandma Bettie Jane’s pies are made by hand without any preservatives and, befitting of legendary pies, with a recipe that has at least one secret ingredient. Mary Etta said the crust recipe isn’t from any particular book or relative, it’s just the same recipe she’s followed as she’s made pies her entire life. The three do still measure their ingredients, though, to maintain consistency in their pies.

There are 36 different varieties of pies the trio makes, and that’s after paring down the list. They make fruit pies, cream pies, meringue pies and more, decidedly covering everyone’s favorites. The three admit that there are some varieties that they’ve never tried but are customer favorites. Their favorite pies? Mary Etta said that in all honesty, she’s not a huge pie fan. But, she does enjoy pumpkin at Thanksgiving. Elsie said the same; pumpkin is her favorite. Debra, on the other hand, enjoys cherry raspberry, which has a tart bite she enjoys.

Cherry pies, incidentally, have become more and more popular in recent years. Apple and caramel apple, though, are the top sellers.

While Grandma Bettie Jane’s pies have become a staple in the Lakes Area, their fame goes far beyond north-central Minnesota. Debra said that on several occasions she’s struck up conversation with a friendly stranger while at the airport, only to have them ask if she’s ever tried those awesome pies available in the Lakes Area.

In the past year, the women made nearly 10,000 pies that were sold in Schaefer’s, plus thousands more that were sold at the A-Pine or for fundraising. They agreed that they easily make more than 15,000 pies a year. Since Mary Etta’s Pies started in 1999, it’s probably safe to say that the women have made more than 100,000 pies- perhaps more than 200,000. The pies have gone with customers to Florida, California, Iowa, Missouri, New York City and beyond. One couple even flew to the area in a private plane to pick up pies, Elsie said.

The popularity of the pies has drawn attention from newspapers, magazines, television media and more. They’ve been featured in On the Road with Jason Davis and received a mention in Food Network star Simon Majumdar’s book.

The pies have been used to celebrate birthdays, served at weddings, funerals and everything in between.

“If you can put a smile on somebody’s face, at least one a day, that’s a great thing,” Debra said. Grandma Bettie Jane’s Pies do just that.

Find Grandma Bettie Jane’s Pies at Schaefer’s Foods in Nisswa and at the A-Pine in Jenkins. Special orders are welcome one day ahead, and nearly all the pie flavors can be made sugar-free on request. Call Schaefer’s to order.
0 Comments

Why We Love Westerns

2/9/2017

0 Comments

 
Picture
Justus D. Barnes as Bronco Billy Anderson in The Great Train Robbery
Why We Love Westerns
By Rich Engstrom
     Westerns: they are part of our history, they are part of our DNA. The West, as we know it, starts with the Mountain Men going west of the Mississippi and coming back to tell tales of a land that goes on forever. Much of the land seemed too tough for the plow, but it seemed just right for raising cattle. It was the life of the cowboy that entered our imaginations.
     As the Old West faded into memory in the later part of the 1800s, writers such as Ned Buntline brought back the memories by glorifying the exploits of such real life Westerners such as Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill Hickok, and other real life Western outlaws and lawmen.   Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show traveled not only in the US but traveled throughout the world, and Buffalo Bill became the most recognized face in the world.
     About this time movies came out, but really didn’t take off until
the movie The Great Train Robbery. It was only 12 minutes long, but it told a story- something that the other movies at that time didn’t do.
     Westerns after that followed the same pattern- a plot that included a train or bank robbery, a chase, a saloon setting, and a real story ending with a shootout. It was hoped that the audiences would be able to follow the story even though it contained 14 different scenes.  As the director/writer, Edwin S. Porter watched to see if a Western with a story would go over. But  at the end of the movie he could hear “Get them!” and, “Shoot them!” Then the lights went on and the movie goers started shouting– yelling, asking for more. They wanted to see it again. It was a huge success. The Western movie had arrived.
       Not only were the Western movies a big hit but the leading men became national heroes. During the silent era names like Broncho Billy Anderson, William W. Hart, and Hoot Gibson brought young would-be-cowboys to the theaters in droves. Young boys would do whatever they could to raise enough money for a ticket and a box of popcorn at the local movie house. But the biggest silent Western star was Tom Mix- a real life cowboy. He was a skilled horseman, an expert shot, and had won some riding and roping contests. Tom was a friend of politicians and was a real movie star.  He even helped John Wayne get his first job in Hollywood.  
During the early talking years the cowboy stars were Buck Jones, Bob Steel, and Ken Maynard.
    It wasn’t just young boys who went to see their favorite cowboys on the big screen. My Norwegian born grandfather would drop grandma off at the grocery store on Friday nights and head to the local cinema to watch the weekly Western. When he retired he would always have a paperback Western nearby, his favorite being Zane Grey.
    In 1939 came a number of Westerns that would change to a more adult media: Destry Rides Again with Jimmy Stewart and Marlene Dietrich, and Jesse James with Henry Fonda and Tyrone Power - two of the biggest Hollywood stars at the time.
    Then came Stagecoach starring John Wayne- an adult story with plenty of action. Typical of Westerns, it had the good guy getting the girl at the end of the movie after a big shootout.
   Along came the singing cowboys- they even tried to make Wayne a singing cowboy. But the biggest Western singing cowboy was Gene Autry followed by Roy Rogers. As Western movies became less in numbers the two stars moved to television. An older movie star by the name of William Boyd became Hopalong Cassidy.
Youngsters couldn’t get enough of their Western heroes and, with the help of TV advertising, out came notebooks, lunch boxes, and jackknives carrying the name of their favorite Western cowboy.
      It started in the middle of the ‘50s that Westerns filled the TV networks. (There are too many to name here.) Older movie stars entered the small screen- Henry Fonda, Barbara Stanwyck, Walter Brennan, Hugh O’Brian, and Ward Bond. The TV Western made instant stars from new young actors such as: Roger Moore, James Gardner, Michael Landon, and James Arness. Gunsmoke was on the small screen for twenty years and Bonanza drew large audiences. The Westerns were on every channel and some evenings Westerns were played all night.
     Whether on the small screen or the big screen with a Dolby  Sound System, Westerns are not as popular as they once were. But every now and then a good Western shows up and is seen by millions. In the early ‘60s The Magnificent Seven made stars out of James Coburn, Charles Bronson, and Steve McQueen and has been called one of the great Westerns of any time. Coming out in the late ‘60s, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid put two of Hollywood’s biggest stars (Paul Newman and Robert Redford) together and it became one of the best pictures of the year.
    Hollywood found out that if you have a good script and well-known stars, a Western can still draw large crowds. Clint Eastwood directed The Unforgiven. The movie won an Oscar for Best Picture and  Eastwood was nominated for the Oscar as best actor. Morgan Freeman, Gene Hackman, and Richard Harris also starred.
    But Americans are not the only ones who love Westerns.
     In Wild West magazine, December 2016, Tamas Makra from Hungary  writes that, “Since I was a kid I have been fascinated by the Old West.” Having a chance to visit Western states after teaching in Chicago for a year, he went back to Hungary with the Old West on his mind.
His home town high school had a new language classroom. Tamas got permission to set up one room as an Old West room, or “The Saloon.” The room was decorated with pictures of the Old West– sheriffs, outlaws and the American Indians. The students could learn English in an American environment- a Western environment.
       And among Americans who enjoyed Westerns was Dwight Eisenhower, who at 0700 on June 6, 1944, (D-Day) was found smoking a cigarette and reading a Western novel.
       Although there aren’t Westerns on TV as they were in the ‘50s and ‘60s, Westerns on the tube can still be popular. Again, with a good script that has a lot of action, add popular movie stars and you can still draw in a big audience. Take Lonesome Dove, originally written by the popular Western writer Larry McMurtry. The movie, in 1989-90, was the most watched miniseries of all time, watched in 26 million homes. It was up for 18 Emmy Awards and won seven. Lonesome Dove also won two Golden Globes. The movie pulled in the talents of Robert Duvall, Tommy Lee Jones, Danny Glover, Diane Lane, and Anjelica Huston.
     The United States has a dramatic, exciting history and Westerns are a big part of that history.
0 Comments

Jeff Benson Continues His Life Saving Adventure

2/6/2017

0 Comments

 
By Kate Perkins
​Photos courtesy of Jeff Benson

Editor
Throughout his career of becoming and working as a helicopter pilot, Jeff Benson has gone from serving his country to serving his local community, both from the sky and on the ground.
When Jeff Benson joined the Navy at age 18, he enlisted for six years. He joined for an adventure, but those six years turned into 24, and an adventure turned into a career as a helicopter pilot.

“I just kind of set my goals early to do whatever it takes to get my education and become a pilot,” Benson said.
Many people don’t realize that the Navy has almost as many pilots as the Air Force, Benson said. The Navy requires that anyone who wants to become a helicopter pilot receive a four-year college degree first. Benson attended Auburn in Alabama and got a degree in electrical engineering. He then put in 100 hours on a T-34 Mentor, a type of plane. Benson described the Mentor as a two seat, turboprop, fully aerobatic plane. After 100 hours, he had to make a choice: jets, props, or helicopters.
“I just had an affinity for helicopters,” Benson said. “Flying helicopters is a lot of fun. You can land pretty much anywhere.”
Benson worked for 10 years to make his dream of becoming a helicopter pilot a reality. Soon he became the kind of pilot to land a helicopter on the back of a Navy frigate as it pitched and rolled in 20-foot swells on the Persian Gulf. Once he got his wings, Benson was put on multipurpose missions, like search and rescue, as well as carrying hellfire missiles and 50-caliber machine guns.
Benson became the officer in charge of a Navy detachment of six pilots, three rescue swimmers and 20 enlisted soldiers who maintained two helicopters. In the Persian Gulf, they helped protect the waterways for free commerce and keep shipping lanes open.
Benson’s Navy career also had him searching for submarines in the open ocean, transporting food and supplies from one Navy ship to another, and delivering medical supplies to areas of Africa, among other things. In Malta he participated in the Malta International Airshow.
After his 24 years in the Navy, Benson retired and returned to the Lakes Area, his home stomping grounds, to raise his family with his wife, Julie. Today he lives in Pequot Lakes with his wife and two kids and flies an emergency helicopter for North Memorial Ambulance, where the adventure continues.
Benson flies one of six helicopters that cover the whole state, reaching out to Duluth, International Falls, and Fargo. He finds that his work at North Memorial is similar, in some ways, to his work in the Navy. In the Navy he did search and rescue and patient transfers, which bear a resemblance to the flight for life work he does today. He found that work for North Memorial is more challenging in some ways than flying for the Navy. For example, two pilots man a Navy helicopter, but only on pilot is onboard a North Memorial helicopter. Alongside Benson in the copter is a paramedic and a nurse.
It’s Benson’s responsibility to make the decision to take a call or not based on the safety of a flight. The decision is almost always based on weather, he said.
“The most challenging part is making the go/no go decisions based on weather,” he said. North Memorial follows specific criteria for the weather, including current conditions and what’s forecast, to make informed decisions. “It’s black and white, can we do it safely or not.”
And even though the criteria is clear, “that’s a bit of a challenge,” Benson said. When asked to take a call, helicopter pilots aren’t given specific information on the situation they’ll be handling.
But while there are challenging aspects to his job, there’s also reward. Benson said his favorite part of the job is getting to help people out and save lives.
Side perks include the awesome perspective of seeing the state from the sky. Averaging two flights per shift, Benson has seen northern lights, city skylines, lakes and forests and more from windows of a helicopter.
For instance, Benson watched the progress of US Bank Stadium from above and from the rooftop of nearby hospitals. He watched as the Metrodome was taken apart, then saw an almost step-by-step progression of the new stadium from the sky.
Benson works 12 hours shifts, six days in a row, and then has six days off. His work schedule, and a passion for the community, has allowed Benson to become heavily involved in volunteer work. He’s the Scoutmaster for his son’s Boy Scout Troop 102, and also helped start the Watch DOGS (Dads of Great Students) program in Pequot Lakes Schools. He’s also a member of the Sibley Lake Board.
After 24 years of serving his country in the Navy, Benson’s continuing the theme here in the Lakes Area. Both in his career as a pilot, transporting patients to save lives, and in his free time as Scoutmaster and Watch DOG, Benson is one who serves.
0 Comments
    View E-Edition
    Our April-May issue is now on shelves! Watch for it at your favorite Lakes Area businesses!

    Archives

    March 2017
    February 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016

    Categories

    All

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.
  • Home
  • Great Northern News- the paper!
    • E-Edition! Read Now!
  • About
  • Contact
  • Events
  • More...
    • Nisswa Stagecoach
    • Cozy Theater