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Christmas on a North Dakota Farm in 1929

12/19/2016

By Rich Engstrom

  Going through some papers in a drawer I ran across an article my mother’s cousin sent to me after my mother passed away. It was written in December of 1979 by Norma Neperud.
  Norma lived on the North Dakota prairie with two siblings. It was December of 1929, just three months after the start of the Great Depression. The Depression didn’t affect them that much in that they were already poor and lived off much of what they produced on the farm.
  The family lived in a large farmhouse with the nearest electric power and gas lines miles away. They heated with lignite coal and used no more than a combined two gallons of gasoline and kerosene a week in lamps and lanterns. Norma’s father had a car, but it was used only once a week to go to town for supplies. The farm used 16 mixed breed horses-Clydesdales, Percheron, and Morgan horses which was used for all the farm needs.
  They would attend church on one Sunday a month as the minister had four churches to provide services. After the service the church members would retire downstairs to enjoy Scandinavian pot luck.
  She remembers that Christmas gifts were created by the giver. “Knitting, crochet, embroidery and sewing needles and many treadle type sewing machines were actively going under the guidance of loving hands from September on.” They created stuffed toys, caps, scarves, socks, tablecloths, mittens, gloves, dresser scarves, doilies, dresses, aprons, shirts and neck scarves. Pocket knives carved wall plaques, animals and birds. All these found their way under the tree or into stockings at Christmas.
What I found interesting was that she talked about spending hours looking at the wish books- the mail order catalogues that arrived with their beautiful array of gifts. (My sister and I would do the same in the early 1950s.) Norma and siblings would look at dresser sets consisting of mirror, brush and comb, crystal, china, clothes, and oh!- the toys. There were bride dolls, baby dolls, Raggedy Ann dolls, flapper dolls, teddy bears, wagons, sleds, tricycles, foot propelled scooters, wind-up toys such as the Tonnerville Trolley and Andy Gump’s car, train sets, doll dishes, rubber balls, games such as checkers and marbles, toy soldiers, Jack-In-The-Box, Tinker Toys, Lincoln Logs, clocks, water colors, crayons and books.
  Going to school the family youngsters and their friends would play a game. “We’d look at them with our friends and ask one another, ‘If you could have just one thing, what would you have?’” They had fun talking about what they would want but they knew these items would not be under the tree on Christmas Eve.
She wrote about the school program (in a one room school room) where there were poems, songs and character lines in both a funny play and the recreation of the Nativity. “Protestants and Roman Catholics** joined together in this Christmas program and party. We drew names to exchange gifts, created Christmas decorations and cards out of construction paper, and Oh yes! We sold Christmas seals for one cent each. If you sold ten cents worth you received a pin. Our parents usually bought those ten stamps.”
“Santa would show up and distributed our gifts to one another and our gifts to the teacher. She, in turn, always found enough money in a very slim paycheck to give each of us a gift such as pencils, erasers, rulers, etc. The school board provided apples, oranges, nuts and candy.”
  By mid-December the snow lay on the ground in North Dakota and the temperature plummeted. “As I heard the story of Jesus’ birth in a stable, I thought He must have been very cold. I didn’t think of Bethlehem as having a climate different from ours!”
  Getting ready for Christmas, pigs were butchered and from them came sausage, headcheese, hams and fresh pork. Her mother would take the fat and rendered lard and made homemade soap which she scented with sassafras. The kitchen was busy baking and using recipes that had been made by generations of Norwegian housewives. “There were ringlet shaped Berline Kranza, Fattimagn Bakkles (jokingly called poor man’s biscuits because they were so rich) Sandbakkles (sand tarts in molds), Rosettes, Kringle (shaped like a figure eight), molasses cookies, butter cookies, Sprita cookies, and nut cookies among others. Mother also baked lefse, a thin flat potato pancake which is served with butter and sugar; flatbrod, a hard flat crisp bread; Julekaga, the Norwegian yeast bread that is flavored with cardamom and filled with cherries, citron, raisins and nuts; and both fruit and butter cakes.
  In 1929 one could not find a Christmas tree within the state so the family would have to buy a tree that was shipped from the Rocky Mountains.
  “Decorations on the tree consisted of paper chains, popcorn and cranberry chains, a metal star on the top, candles and glass balls and icicles for the branches. Under my father’s watchful eye, the candles would be lit for just a short while on Christmas Eve. As gifts were wrapped and placed under the tree, I used to crawl under it to see if I could guess the contents of the packages.” I would bet that this is still done by children today as I know I also did this as a child.
  Christmas was a big family event back then with a number of relatives getting together on Christmas Eve and the mother of the house leading her sisters and sisters-in-law cooking on a black cook stove.
  “The menu would consist of things such as: Sot Soppe, which is a sweet soup made of prunes, raisins, orange and apples, minute tapioca, sugar, cinnamon, cloves and water, and there was lutefisk which was a Norwegian Christmas must.” There were meatballs and meats such as turkey, ham, chicken or the goose that had not too long before chased us. There was pickled herring, headcheese, assorted pickles, jellies and jams, canned green peas and beans, mashed potatoes, Julekaga (Christmas bread), rolls, fruitcake, the assorted cookies, chocolate cake and salad. “
  “The grown-ups always ate first but we children didn’t mind-we were enjoying being together.”
  After dinner we would open the gifts under the tree. We then went home to open our presents under a highly decorated spruce. Then, we also believed in and enjoyed visits from Santa Claus, so on Christmas morning we found our stockings filled with fruit, nuts, hard candy, and hand-created gifts that were strangely similar to those Mother had been working on before Christmas. There also might be one or two gifts such as we had seen in the catalogs.
  “When our Christmas holiday was over, we returned to school and enjoyed hearing and telling of the good things Christmas had brought to each of us. It was a happy time.”
  ** When immigrants from Europe settled in a certain area they would write back to relatives about the good farm land to be found in the US. So certain areas would be settled by friends and relatives who came from the same area in Europe- bringing with them their religion. Small towns would spring up and therefore you would have the farmers and the townsfolk coming from the same area in Europe and with the same religion. Even though there was a public school most of the children were of the same religion and brought with them their ethnic customs.

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The Ghost Bird

12/15/2016

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Above: Judd Brink stands at the entrance to a National Wildlife Refuge where he searched for the “Ghost Bird,” the ivory-billed woodpecker.

Story and photos by Judd Brink
Owner, MN Backyard Birds

One of the rarest birds in North America is known as “Lord God Bird,” “Grail Bird,” “Ghost Bird” or, by its common name, the ivory-billed woodpecker (Campephilus principalis). It was thought to be extinct for nearly 60 years until recent sightings started to surface in the early 1990s. But it was officially rediscovered in 2004.

If the bird still exists today it may only be found in very small remote old growth swamps such as the Everglades found in Florida or other secluded areas. Historically the ivory-billed woodpecker was found from Cuba to southeastern states in the U.S. The ivory-billed is larger than our backyard visitor the pileated woodpecker (Dryocopus pileatus), having an ivory colored bill with large white patches on the wings. Preferred habitat includes old growth cypress, tupelo and oaks among others found in the bottomland hardwoods of the south. Ivory-billed woodpeckers feed on beetle larvae from dead or dying trees that are still standing. Since 2004 research teams have gathered to find and document any evidence but not a single photograph has captured its presence. It might be one of most well-known, rarest birds in the world. Extremely shy birds that avoid most human activity makes for difficult relocation of any sightings.

Early studies of the ivory-billed woodpecker took place in 1924 by Cornell researchers. One of the pioneers was ornithologist Arthur Allen who observed one pair in Florida that year. The first ever documented sound recordings were captured in hopes of studying rare birds including the ivory-billed. Today the recording is still used in research. In 1935 Allen and James Tanner led the first large expeditions into the old growth Singer Tract in Louisiana that was about 81,000 acres in size. The owners of the land belonged to the Singer sewing company which at that time was the largest private forest in the south. Tanner spent two years here from 1937-1939 studying ivory-billed woodpeckers. Tanner estimated there to be 22-24 left in the U.S. and the only birds he found were at this location. Unfortunately the famous Singer Tract was sold to the Chicago Mill and Lumber Company where it was logged despite efforts in trying to save the last stronghold for the ivory-billed woodpecker. In 1943 back at the now-logged Singer Tract, a single bird was found surrounded by destruction. A year later an artist named Don Eckelberry went back and re-found the single bird and spent two weeks watching and sketching. It’s now the last accepted sighting.

In February 2011 I was invited to participate in an ivory-billed woodpecker search team in Louisiana. As an avid birder for nearly 30 years it was an honor and privilege to take part in this experience. The team spent five days in the swamps and bottomland hardwood forests at several National Wildlife Refuges during the trip. We also met with other search teams, and one team member told us of her encounter over dinner as she witnessed the bird go across one of the trails she was on. Our searches started very early in the morning as we tried to be on the trail, ready to walk and search. We walked many miles each day through some old growth forest but much of the habitat was second growth or young forest. Seeing some of the big trees gave us the sense of what it must have looked like in the 1940’s. So, after hearing of the many years of searching I just had to ask the question: why hasn’t anyone gotten a credible photograph yet? Well, it was explained to me as if someone saw a ghost. They simply froze and in shock, forgetting to take the photo. From what I have heard these encounters or observations are very brief, only seconds before the bird disappears in the dark swamp. We were obviously looking for the bird by sight and sound but we also looked for clues that would indicate its presence. Ivory-billed woodpeckers feed by stripping or peeling off the bark to look for beetle larvae. We also looked for any large oval tree cavities that could be used for nesting especially in the larger trees in good habitat. I still keep in touch with one search team member who still is on the trail and continues to follow up on any reports received. I still believe that someone will eventually come forward with an authentic photograph and accurate documentation of the existence of the ivory-billed woodpecker. Happy Birding!

Judd Brink is the owner of MN Backyard Birds in the Brainerd Lakes area. MN Backyard Birds provides birdscaping for home owners 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 our new website birdminnesota.com or email us at info@birdminnesota.com

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Thanksgiving Civil War!

12/12/2016

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Sisters Duke it Out While Community Watches On

By Elizabeth S. Persnickety

Snow hasn’t yet covered the dead leaves with its wintery blanket, but the ice of sibling rivalry and holiday spirit has chilled the hearts of the Persnickety family and their neighbors this early November morning. The front yard is a battle field of cranberry sauce, empty pie crusts and globs of mashed potatoes that cry out on the muddy lawn. Panting, like two wounded lionesses, Aunt Marge and Mother circle each other, holding a pan and a wooden spoon respectively. A tiny white mop of a dog barks and growls when it’s not busying itself trying to scarf down the edible artillery scattered on the ground. Sources say that they first heard the ruckus at 8:30 a.m.
Mr. Carson, the owner of the local thrift shop that sells your assortment of moose, cheese and weird Viking memorabilia, shook his head and scratched at his large horned sleeping cap. “Ya know Elizabeth, I really think your ma Marie’s winning this time though. Got your aunt square in the face a few times before that little feather duster of a dog came out. Some of us are still trying to sleep though ya know, can ya tell ‘um to keep it down?” After, Mr. Carson was laughed at by the throng of ever growing neighbors, all wanting to see if anyone would draw blood or resort to name calling.
“We just heard this caterwauling this morning, and oh gosh, your mom just started swinging at Marge there with her spoon ya know, flicking food like the American Sniper or something and Marge firing back. It looks like a slaughter!” Neighbor Ester Johnson said defensively, when she was asked what brought her out of her house. “I mean, it’s not really a slaughter until someone bleeds dearie…”
The brawl had in fact started 15 minutes earlier than the neighbors believe, in the Persnickety kitchen. After two days of not sleeping, being in extremely close proximity to one another and an adrenaline high that just kept pumping, Aunt Marge and Mom had finally snapped when they began to start the first of many dishes for the blessed holiday.
“They just wouldn’t stop screaming about who made the better cranberry sauce or mashed potatoes,” Amy, this journalist’s older sister sighed, not looking up from her smartphone. “Mom thinks there should be more cream in the potatoes, Aunty Marge says more orange juice in the cranberries. Then it was all downhill from there. Aunt Marge hates the decorating and Mom hates Princess Doodles.” The small white dog in question threw up whatever it was eating to begin yapping at everyone even more “ferociously.” “Honestly, it’s better to just let them fight this one out, if worst comes to worst we’ll order pizza.”
Uncle Tim and the Father unit were far more distressed about the situation than even the neighbors.
“You girls don’t understand, this could not just effect this afternoon, but this could end all of our holiday meals all together. Don’t you get it?!” Father rumbled, nervously shuffling as he began to dial the number to his Mother-in-law’s cellphone. “Maybe Diane can talk some sense into them before she gets here this afternoon.”
“That means no more peach cobbler, no more corn pudding, no more chicken pot pies, and…no more pecan pies.” Uncle Tim continued. Amy gasped softly. No more pecan pies? But they were the best pecan pies that had ever been made in all of Northern Minnesota. Those pies had won awards, made full grown men cry, and the only ones who knew how to make them were currently spitting and hissing at each other like angry house cats. A great yowl went up and the crowd all gasped, horrified.
“Marge!”
“Marie!”
The two women collided in midair, their combined force and midlife crises seemed to blend together with a terrific CRACK! We all waited with baited breath as the two bodies lay stunned on the ground. Their hair and cheeks were caked with food, mud and bright cherry leaves. Mother stretched her hand out, trying to find something solid to help her to her feet, but grabbed Aunt Marge’s hand instead. The two sisters stared at each other, two titans momentarily stunned, then stared at the ground looking at all of their foolishness and waste of work exploding around them, all to be witnessed by the happy and sleepy occupants of our town.
They sighed, and climbed to their feet. Aunt Marge helping Mother, both gathering their utensils and glancing in the crowd’s direction.
“Oh like you guys are so above it all!” Mother yelled, waving her arm in dismissive motions.
“Can’t sisters have an argument without the whole neighborhood chiming in? Goodness.” Aunt Marge sighed, flicking mashed potatoes out of her hair before they both turned and walked back into the house to continue the food prep.
“We’re never going to be like that, and if we do get like that, we’re ordering Chinese.” Amy said to this journalist as she went to recapture Princess Doodle, and the entire town breathed a disappointed sigh that the madness was over…At least until Christmas rolls around.

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A Paul Bunyan Christmas

12/8/2016

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By John Wetrosky

Paul Bunyan sat in the dim lighted cabin with a puzzled look on his rugged, half-shaven face. He was doing his annual Christmas shopping list and it wasn't getting any easier for this huge lumberman.

Paul did his shopping close to home in places with names like Pine River, Hackensack, Longville, Crosslake, Pequot Lakes, Breezy Point and Nisswa. These were towns built around the tall timber where Paul made his reputation along with his faithful sidekick, Babe. Babe stood outside Paul's rough hewn log cabin, gazing through the window pane at Paul sitting on his wooden bench, quill pen in hand. Once in awhile Paul would scratch down a few words on a piece of white paper birchbark.

Over the years Paul's shopping list had changed. The gifts he had given over the years had changed to reflect the times. It was easy to buy a new pair of heavy wool socks, a hefty red and black plaid wool shirt, or perhaps a pair of lumberman pants. But, the younger crowd didn't seem to get the same thrill out of opening a package of red bandannas or a brightly striped pair of suspenders. One year Paul gave a brand new, shiny axe to all his nephews and nieces. They were delighted, and Paul sat back contentedly drawing on his pipe, watching their excited faces when they opened their prizes. They didn't seem to appreciate such gifts in the modern day.

Now-a-days it seemed that technology had crept into gift giving. Paul saw advertisements in the local paper featuring things called cell phones, ear buds, laptops, iPhone watches and things called Kindles. He asked himself what good any of these things would be to someone working in the tall timber. You couldn't cut a tall tree down with something called an earbud. A laptop wouldn't keep you warm when it was 30 below zero with a north wind howling down your neck. Paul was puzzled by these modern conveniences.

Snow had begun to fall at a fast clip and Paul could see that the trail out front the cabin was rapidly drifting shut. If he was to complete his shopping list tonight, he'd have to hitch Babe to the sleigh and get busy. Babe pushed through the chest deep drifts out to the main road where the two were met with the first snowplow of the season. Babe followed the plow down the now cleared road into town. Twice the plow became bogged down in the deep drifts, but with just a nudge from Babe's broad forehead the plow was freed and the driver waved in appreciation for the push.

All of the north country towns Paul roamed through stayed open throughout the long northern winters, serving their customer's every need. He bought feed and hay for Babe from a store in Pine River. He bought hardware there as well and he had a favorite barber in Pine River who trimmed his huge beard with a hedge trimmer. He bought a gift certificate to a favorite restaurant in Hackensack for his beloved Lucette. Lucette really liked the twenty-four ounce Porterhouse steak they served there. Crossing over the Pine River into Crosslake Paul found a new snowblower for his long lost nephew who hated shoveling snow by hand. Traveling south to Breezy Point, Paul bought two weeks in a timeshare for his aunt in Alaska so she could come down and thaw out near the indoor pool in January. Making his way back home, Paul stopped in Nisswa and Pequot Lakes to pick up a few fishing lures and a Mary Etta's pie for his uncle who loved pecan pie.

All the towns in the north country were brightly lit for the coming holidays. Each light pole was adorned with colorful lights and the little stores all glimmered with tinsel and decorations. Even with a snowstorm raging, the merchants stayed open and some of them even offered Paul hot apple cider and a freshly baked cookie or two. Paul’s chosen gifts were cheerfully wrapped by the merchants and soon the sled was full of brightly colored gift boxes. Paul threw a tarp over his pile of gifts to keep them snow-proof, climbed aboard and gave Babe the order to head on home.

Paul thought how lucky he was to live in this part of the pine country where the small town service was still around. He no longer wore the puzzled look on his face as he had found just the right gift for everyone on his list.

Christmas Eve came and found Paul sitting among all his family as they unwrapped his gifts. He sat back in his huge rocker, gently puffing on that big black pipe and smiling as his youngest niece opened her package of new earbuds and gave out a squeal of pleasure. Somehow Paul knew she would enjoy them more than a pair of thick, wool socks. It was Christmas time in the North Country. It was, and is, a special winter place.

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Local author Simar delves into area history

12/6/2016

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By Kate Perkins

Editor

After 20 years as a nurse, Pequot Lakes resident Candace Simar went back to school to get a four-year nursing degree. There were a few required English classes, and Simar found herself loving those classes, taking as many as she could. Soon she decided that instead of pursuing the next nursing degree, she’d take up writing, something she’d always loved to do. Today she’s an award-winning author with six books published, including the popular Abercrombie Trail series. Many combine what Simar has learned from her passion for history with her own fictional tales.

Simar went into nursing because of her father, she said. She and her family moved to Pequot Lakes when Simar was 17. She graduated from Pequot Lakes High School, where her guidance counsellor suggested that she pursue English. Simar’s father was ill, though, and died a short time after the move. He had always wanted Simar to be a nurse, because of all the help that nurses had given him. He knew it was a stable career and that Simar would be able to find work anywhere she went. Simar agreed, and nursing became her primary career.

It was as her kids were leaving home that she decided to pursue writing. Once the decision was made, Simar attended every writing conference and workshop that she could. She read books and magazines, and she began to write. Six books later, Simar continues to attend workshops and seminars to continue learning and improving.

Simar’s books are mostly historical fiction, in which she blends historical facts and elements into the stories of fictional characters. Her most popular books, the Abercrombie Trail series, tell of pioneer Scandinavians in Minnesota during the Sioux Uprising, the Civil War, and the grasshopper plagues around the 1870s.

“I’ve always loved history,” Simar said. “I love the stories of my family, who were all Scandinavian immigrants.”

The Sioux Uprising was the largest American Indian war in history, and took place in 1862. It was caused by the Civil War, as the money the government needed to pay the treaties went to the war instead.

“The Sioux rose up, and who wouldn’t? They were starving,” Simar said. She said that the Sioux Uprising was overshadowed in historical records by what was the bloodiest summer of the Civil War. Nonetheless, Simar said the state is still feeling the effects of the war today.

“Only 20 percent of the Sioux participated, but all were exiled,” Simar said. “It started here and ended with the Battle at Wounded Knee.”

In the Abercrombie Trail series, Simar chronicles immigrant life throughout the Sioux Uprising, plagues of grasshoppers that destroyed crops, and bank failings. The people of the time showed both tenacity and resilience.

“They (immigrants) had no recourse, no way to go back, nothing,” Simar said. “They just had to survive, and I wanted to celebrate that.”

Simar’s most recently published book is Shelterbelts. As a nurse, Simar cared for many World War II veterans who told her their stories. Some of the elements of those stories were used in Shelterbelts.

The book follows a war veteran who comes back to Minnesota to operate the farm that his sister has been managing throughout the war. While the family feels he should take over the farm, his sister is the only one who wants to and is capable of doing so. The story is of the farming community, and how when the chips are down, they stick up for their own. Shelterbelts, for which the book is named, are the rows of trees that shelter farms from the elements.

“Shelterbelts become a metaphor,” Simar said. Just as the shelterbelts protect the farms, the farmers protect the vulnerable members of their communities. Just as the shelterbelts sometimes need repair, so do farmers, neighbors and family.

Both Shelterbelts and the Abercrombie Trail series have won several awards and accolades. Simar believes one of the reasons the books are so popular, especially in Minnesota, is because of the connection readers are able to forge with their own history.

“There’s something very validating about reading about our history, our people,” Simar said. She’s heard feedback from some readers who travel the area, visiting the locations detailed in the books. “That makes me so happy, because we need to hang onto our history. It doesn’t mean we have to agree with it, but we need to understand what happened…. The Scandinavian culture is very unique.”

Simar wished to thank the Five Wings Arts Council, which provided her with grants that helped make her books possible. Her books are available at Turtle Town Books in Nisswa and Book World in Baxter, as well as on her website, candacesimar.com and on Amazon.

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Grant Goltz: Artisan of the Woods

11/15/2016

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By Tenlee Lund

   How long does it take to build a birch bark canoe? If you really want to know, ask Grant Goltz, an artist, craftsman and teacher who lives near Longville.
   “Everybody asks that,” he says, “so let’s first break it down as to what’s involved in making a canoe. Let’s assume that you already know what you’re going to do and how to do it.” In other words, we’ll eliminate the learning curve.
   “First,” he says, “you have to go out and find the materials.” That could take a week or more, when you consider three or four days to harvest good quality birch bark and another day or so to get cedar that has a straight grain with no limbs or twists.
   “It’s not as easy as it used to be,” says Goltz, explaining that the right trees can be hard to find — and then they might be on somebody’s property.
   Next you need to dig spruce roots because “that’s what it’s laced with.” A typical canoe requires 500 to 800 feet of lacing, which requires “a lot of digging in the swamp.
   “Now you’ve got this pile of stuff — you’ve got birch bark, you’ve got a few logs. You’ve got to make all that into canoe parts.” He smiles.
   The cedar needs to be split down the grain for the ribs and gunwales; the bark needs to be taken off the spruce roots and they need to be split and split again until they become thin, flat laces; and the birch bark needs to be cleaned — and it’s all got to be done by hand.
   “If all goes well and you’ve got a couple of people to help you, probably another week goes by,” Goltz continues, “so, after a minimum of two weeks of pretty intensive labor, you’re ready to actually start putting the canoe together.
   “When most people ask how long it takes to build a canoe, this is where they start. But we’ve already spent at least two weeks, sometimes three, getting to this point. And you’ve got to do that with every canoe. It’s part of the process.
   “From here, if you’ve got a couple people to help, you can probably put a canoe together in a week.” He should know. He’s built lots of them.
   Goltz and his partner, archaeologist Christy Hohman, have been “studying birch bark canoes for at least 40 years” and building them since the mid-1990s. They thoroughly research, then build using methods and materials as close to authentic as they can replicate.
   “When we build our canoes, we’re usually using an example of an actual canoe that was documented. We don’t just build a generic birch bark canoe,” he explains.
   For example, in 2002 he built a 27-foot birch bark canoe for a group from France that wanted to use it to traverse Canada. “It was a replica of one of those old fur-trade canoes and they paddled it 3,000 miles, from Portland, Oregon, to somewhere on Hudson Bay. They had 2,000 pounds of equipment and six people in that canoe.”
   On that journey and countless others, birch bark canoes have proven to be reliably sturdy. This one crashed against a bridge support, breaking the gunwale. They repaired it with a hockey stick and completed the final 2,000 miles of the trip.
   As Goltz explains, native people had been using those boats for thousands of years. During the booming fur trade, from the mid-1600s to the mid-1800s, the French voyageurs were also paddling birch bark canoes.
   Why? “Because they were the best suited watercraft for where they had to go and what they were doing. You could repair them, they were lightweight, they were sturdy. There was no comparison,” says Goltz.
   He doesn’t use the word “primitive” to describe ancient people’s methods because, “When you look back at how people used to do things, it was very sophisticated. They understood everything that they were doing and they did it very well and very deliberately. To me, that’s not primitive. They understood the scientific principles of a whole lot of things that we’re just starting to figure out today.”
   For example, they mixed powdered charcoal into the spruce pitch they used to seal the birch bark seams on the canoes. That’s why the seams are black.
   “Sunlight can’t penetrate and ultraviolet radiation doesn’t break it down. That’s science. For the world that those people lived in, that’s as good as any of the science that we use today. It’s just geared to another time, another situation. You can find all sorts of examples like that.”
   Goltz and Hohman also make museum-quality replicas of native pottery, again using authentic methods and materials. Much of their handiwork is on display in exhibits, and they also teach the skill to others, many of whom are descendants of native cultures.
   “It’s one of those things that people quit doing. When the fur trade brought in brass kettles, people said, ‘hey, we don’t need to do this anymore’ and quit, so the skill was not passed on,” Goltz explains. “Some native people were not even aware that their ancestors made pottery. It’s part of their cultural heritage that’s almost gotten lost.”
   But as Goltz and Hohman discover these skills, they research, learn, then teach them to others.
   “It’s fun,” says Goltz. “We like to share what we’ve learned with other people. A lot of the things we do are fairly unique. There aren’t many people out there doing them.”
   They’ve woven baskets, built guitars, carved wooden animals, tanned leather, built furniture and kayaks and worked with stone, wood and clay. “We can make almost anything because we’ve worked with everything imaginable,” Goltz laughs. “We’ve been on an almost 40-year adventure and we still continue to pick up new ideas and things.”
   As they revive lost arts and develop an appreciation for cultures that were here before ours, we can all be grateful that they invite us along for the ride.
For more information, visit www.Squeedunk.com.

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In Case You Missed It Movie Review: Kubo and the Two Strings

11/9/2016

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by Dustin Engstrom

The magic in Kubo and the Two Strings from Laika, the animators behind Coraline and ParaNorman, is the ability the studio has to create worlds literally out of whole cloth, or paper, or giant skeletons with swords sticking out of their heads. Part traditional stop-motion, part computer animation, the movement, the color, the imagination and skill that went into every single detail, gives the film a sweeping, tactile feel. Yet the pleasing part about watching a film like Kubo, although geared toward children, is the way it captures an adult’s imagination as well. Unlike the constant bombast of comedic throw offs from studios like DreamWorks, this delightful animated film doesn’t rely on a constant stream of silly gags and over the top characters to get kids’ attention. It relies on what makes any big film great: story, character, and a sense of wonder.
The story focuses on a Kubo, a boy with the ability to bring his origami to life with his guitar. During the day he puts on a show for the local villagers, and at night he takes care of his ailing mother in a cave. Her memory comes and goes as she damaged her head protecting Kubo from her sinister father, the Moon King, and her twin sisters (who look like something out of a creepy anime). Her mother tells him that his father, a great samurai warrior, died protecting him from their villainy. One night, the time of day his mother tells him he should never be out in the open or his grandfather and aunts will come for him, he tries to pray to his father like the other villagers do for their deceased loved ones. His mother’s words ring true and so begins an adventure for Kubo to find his father’s magical armor to be able to combat his relatives. He is accompanied by a talking monkey and a man-like beetle. They fight the aforementioned giant skeleton, (sixteen feet tall and weighing 400 pounds, the skeleton is considered by the studio to be the largest stop-motion puppet ever made) orb-like eyes under a dark ocean, and of course, the main villains of the piece.
To say more would spoil the story and the fun. The characters are voiced by some of Hollywood’s top talent, including Charlize Theron, Matthew McConaughey, Ralph Fiennes, and Rooney Mara. The characterizations aren’t flashy or gimmicky. The colorful story consistently amazes with its outstanding visuals. Likened to the quest stories of folklore, Kubo uses the Japanese setting well, outlining part of its culture and architecture with loving detail. There are many spirited moments of humor and adventure. Above all, it urges you to remember what it’s like to be a kid. Some kids might find some of it a bit scary, but more so than that, a warning to parents to be prepared to talk their children about death as that is a big part of the story. I commend the creators for taking that risk and not suppressing that aspect of the film. This is a magical adventure, but it captures real truths – ones that can be painful, but with this story and these characters – can be a cathartic experience for everyone. And it’s a fine thing to behold.

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Taking Her Passion to HART

11/7/2016

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By Kate Perkins
Editor

For the last nearly 30 years, Donna Wambeke has devoted a significant amount of her time and effort to helping animals across the Lakes Area. She was on the ground floor of the creation and development of the Heartland Animal Rescue Team (HART), and continues to lead HART as the organization’s executive director.

She recalls that when HART was started in April, 1987, the organization had no building and relied on volunteers to foster homeless animals. Donna had seen an article in the paper about the organization’s founding, and was a member by day two.

“We started with no building, no money- just some caring people,” Donna said. “We got donations for dog food, and would go to construction sites and get old lumber for dog houses.”

In 1990 HART was donated money to operate out of a storefront in Brainerd. In 1992, HART purchased the building where it’s currently located- but it needed a source of income to sustain itself.

Donna spearheaded a project to have a consistent source of income by providing impounding services for area cities. She started getting contracts, and today HART has agreements with 18 municipalities. Municipalities pay a fee so that if there’s a stray dog in the city, it can be brought to HART for care. That side of HART’s work has allowed the shelter to grow and thrive.

“We started out with about a $200 a year budget. Today when I did the budget for the fiscal year it’s $390,000,” Donna said.

The growth of HART allowed the organization to perform a major remodel. Donna is particularly proud of the dog kennel. It’s open air, with good-sized enclosures for each dog. Every dog has a bed, blanket, toy, and plenty of fresh air thanks to a high-quality ventilation system.

Donna said that while an animal shelter is often perceived to be a sad place for dogs, that’s not really the case at HART.

“So many people have the icky, dark, dreary impounds in their head,” Donna said. “I don’t feel bad for these (dogs and cats at HART), I feel sorry for the ones that should be here and aren’t. The ones tied up, starving, or having babies in wood piles.”

All the animals at HART are well cared for, given regular walks and plenty of attention. They have plastic swimming pools to play in during the summer, and get a frozen kong every morning. But it’s still just a temporary home for the dogs and cats that come to HART- and 1,200 to 1,500 come through the doors every year.

Donna said that the spay and neuter message has really gotten out across the Lakes Area, and stray dogs here have become less of a problem. So, whenever HART has space in its shelter, it takes dogs from other, overcrowded areas and has them transported to HART, where they’re adopted out. They receive 20 dogs a month from one organization, and 10-15 a month from another organization. Often the dogs come from areas of North Dakota or southern states like Tennessee or Kentucky.

“The majority of our animals are transfers, which makes us feel really good because they’re coming out of high-kill shelters or impound facilities,” Donna said.

HART is a low-kill shelter, which means that there are very few instances in which animals at the shelter are euthanized. Usually it’s when they’ve attacked humans or are ill and can’t be saved.

“We are going to go the extra mile for the stray, for any animal you bring in here,” Donna said. “We work really hard to get these animals adopted. Going to HART is never a death sentence for any animal.”

High-kill shelters often have a limit on how long a dog or cat can be at the shelter before, if they’re not adopted, they’re euthanized. Sometimes that time period is just five to seven days. That does not happen at HART.

“We have no time limit,” Donna said. “People come in here and say, ‘You’re not going to kill it, are you?’ and I say, ‘Why would I?’”

At HART all the animals are kept for seven days before they go on the adoption floor. They’re spayed or neutered, microchipped, vaccinated, receive flea and tick treatment, and are de-wormed. All of this is included in a $150 adoption fee. The dogs are also temperament tested so they can be matched with the best home for their personality.

HART has an open-door policy for all stray animals. For surrenders, though, the shelter has a list of guidelines that must be met. The dog or cat being surrendered has to be under a certain age, and must not have bit or attacked a human. If HART staff can’t handle the dog or cat, it can’t be accepted because staff needs to be able to care for the animal. Donna said that often old cats do not do well in a shelter, as they hide and seclude themselves. Some even shut down completely and don’t make it. That’s why it’s important for those animals to find a home through different means.

At HART, a staff of 13 who Donna describes as “very caring individuals” does its very best to find a good home and positive outcome for every animal that comes through the door. Many staff members have been at HART for 10-15 years. The shelter is a non-profit and is governed by a board of directors who care about HART’s cause.

After nearly 30 years, Donna said that her continued involvement in HART, as well as that of her colleagues, comes down to passion.

“It’s not a job, it’s a passion,” she said.

To learn more about HART, support its cause or see some of the adoptable animals, visit www.hartpets.org.

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Pine River Airport Takes Flight

11/2/2016

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By Kate Perkins
Editor

While the Pine River airport has always been a place of flight and travel, it’s become even more so in recent months, as a flight instructor and airplane mechanic have teamed up and moved into the airport to serve the community.

Tom Pfingsten, flight instructor, and Ron Sieling, airplane and helicopter mechanic, are both taking up a post at the airport as some of the only people in the area who do what they do. They’re accompanied by Elsa the Airport Dog, a black and white dog that looks like cookies and cream ice cream- and is just as sweet.

Both Pfingsten and Sieling have extensive experience in their fields (Elsa has extensive experience as airport buddy). Pfingsten has been flying for more than 20 years. He said he got “the bug” for aviation at a young age, and learned to fly as soon as he could. Though he was a police officer at the time he got his pilot’s license, Pfingsten got a job flying for the DNR as a conservation officer pilot, flying for animal counts, fire watches and enforcement.

Sieling, meanwhile, got his start in aviation mechanics more than 15 years ago, working for North Memorial Ambulance on their flight for life helicopters. He’s also worked on offshore petroleum helicopters. That happens to be the area with the highest concentration of helicopters in the United States.

Sieling and Pfingsten agree that the common misconception about learning to fly and having a plane is the cost. Pfingsten said that most people don’t realize that they can learn to fly for around, or less than, $6,000. Pilots don’t necessarily need to own an airplane to learn- they can rent a plane for flight time with their instructor.

Pfingsten compared the cost of learning and of small planes to other forms of recreation, such as fishing boats, snowmobiles or jet skis. A flyable plane, on the low end, can be purchased for around $20,000. Prices go up from there.

“The sky is the limit,” as far as airplane prices go, Pfingsten said. (“Pun intended,” he added.) On the other hand, though, “you can buy two planes for less than the cost of a new pickup truck.”

And, now that Pfingsten and Sieling have landed at the Pine River airport, Pine River is poised to help a lot of future pilots. Sieling is licensed to sell aircrafts and performs the required annual maintenance and inspections, so pilots need not travel far for that service. He’s also licensed to sell aircraft.

“We want to revive the airport,” Sieling said. He said studies have shown that towns with a utilized airport show growth in response to that use.

And Pine River is a great place to learn. Sieling pointed out that because the airport is small, there is less traffic for learning pilots to deal with.

Pfingsten said that convenience is also a benefit. People in the Pine River-Backus area won’t have to travel far to train for their license.

“A lot of people in the rural areas use aviation for personal and business travel, and just for recreation. Recreationally it’s just a fun thing to do. It involves developing a skill, so if someone is achievement oriented and wants to be the best they can be at something, aviation offers that challenge,” Pfingsten said.

Aside from recreation, there are a lot of opportunities for a career as a pilot. “It’s not just transportation,” Pfingsten said. His own career is an example of that. In his career with the DNR, Pfingsten flew at night in the fall to catch poachers who were shining deer. They also flew as they counted animal populations, from animals as large as moose to as small as ducks.

To Pfingsten, the experience of flying is like no other.

“There’s a freedom, a different perspective when you’re looking out over god’s creation and see it slowly moving underneath the aircraft, knowing you’re guiding that craft. You’re the only one capable of and responsible for the safety and quality of that flight.”

To learn more about Sieling’s Pine River Aeromotor business or Pfingsten Aviation Flight Training, call the office at their hangar at 218-587-5000. Both businesses can be found at the Pine River Airport, at 1340 State Highway 84.

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