Each year, the Midwest Independent Publishers Association holds the Midwest Book Awards competition for excellence in books published the year before. The awards recognize creativity in content and execution, overall book quality, and the book’s unique contribution to its subject area.

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the city of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world.

FLYING LESSONS! (Photo: O’Shea Irish Dance)

O’Shea Irish Dance is my Irish dance school. It is part of the Celtic Junction building. O’Shea teaches Irish dance for kindergarteners to adults.

The dance company moved to the Celtic Junction two years ago. It has three studios. O’Shea participates in the St. Patrick’s Day celebration at the Landmark Center, the Irish Fair at Harriet Island in August, and Minnesota feishes (dance contests). They also go to the championships.

There are many types of Irish dances. They include slip jigs, single jigs, treble jigs, and hornpipes. There’s another dance that has a name, but at O’Shea we just call it a jig. Irish dancers also do reels, but reels are actually Scottish.

Jigs and reels are done in soft shoes, which are black and look a little like ballet shoes. Treble jigs and hornpipes are done in hard shoes—black shoes with buckles that are similar to tap shoes. For performances, we wear blue dresses with blue bloomers. Bloomers are like underwear, except you wear them like they are shorts.

There is also ceili dancing. Ceili dancing is a dance done with a partner. Usually when you dance, your hands and arms are down at your side. In ceili dancing, your arms are up and you hold your partner’s hand.

O’Shea Irish Dance teaches all of these dances. Once you are in the advanced classes, it’s amazing what you can do. Performing with O’Shea is a lot of fun. I love doing Irish dance. There are many other reasons O’Shea is one of my most favorite places in Saint Paul!

Fiona McKen is a seventh grade student in Saint Paul, MN.

Zeus let Persephone visit each year. Shared custody.
Seeing her child, Ceres returned to green fields.
The attorney wrote: She still retains a great deal of anger.
Dakota tribes were driven from the river.
The sound of their weeping / comes back to us.

Patricia Kirkpatrick has published Century’s Road and the picture book Plowie: A Story from the Prairie, illustrated by Joey Kirkpatrick. Her awards include fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Bush Foundation, and the McKnight Loft Award. She teaches at Hamline University and is poetry editor for Water-Stone Review. 

Three monkeys in the zoo. (Photo: Sascha Grant/ibuildrockets.com)

In 1989 on the first tee at the newly reopened Como Park golf course, after watching my grandfather’s drive slice across two fairways and bank off a tree, I learned that golf is as much educational as it is recreational.

“Grandpa, you missed,” I said, playfully jabbing at my hero.

“Yeah, but that’s alright,” he replied with a smile. “Hitting a tree is good luck for your next shot.”

“Oh!” I gleefully said, while altering my aim for a majestic birch 100 yards away.

“Wait,” my grandfather said while he corrected my stance. “It doesn’t work if you try to hit it. It’s like a lucky penny. You can’t put it down and then pick it up.” This made perfect sense to my eight-year-old brain.

I’d run mindlessly into the woods or jump into piles of mud after every errant ball, getting myself covered with dirt and scrapes in the process. After one of my shots plunked into a pond, I started removing my shoes, fully prepared for an underwater expedition.

“Hold on there, Mr. Spitz. Let that one go. It’s feeding Okee,” my grandfather said with a hand on my shoulder.

“Who’s Okee?” I asked with genuine intrigue.

“He’s an alligator, named after the Okefenokee swamps where your grandma is from. He loves to eat golf balls.” His straight face and nonchalant demeanor sold it.

“Wow, can I see him?”

“You can try.” The lovable jerk let me stare for a good five minutes.

“Where does he go in winter?”

“He roams from house to house, eating food when no one is looking. That’s what happened to an apple pie Grandma made last Christmas.” I could barely wait to share this inside information with Mom and Dad.

“Just wait,” the old man said. “On the next hole, you can see the supernatural monkeys.”

At the next tee box I became nearly uncontrollable, desperate to sprint ahead.

“Now, just you wait,” Grandpa said in a calming voice. “They won’t come out unless you’re golfing.”

I watched his drive hook drastically more than the slight dogleg to the left and disappear into the lush forest that bordered the hole.

“They’re mad at me,” he said with a fake frown.

“Who’s mad at you? The monkeys?” I had a million questions that needed answers.

“Take your shot first, Mr. Palmer.” Whack! The only good shot of the round landed 100 yards away in the middle of the fairway. Through a beaming grin, Grandpa said, “Those telepathic monkeys must really like you. They’re just around the bend here.”

Grandpa said, “Those telepathic monkeys must really like you. They’re just around the bend here.”

Off the left corner of the green, a few hundred yards away, was a visible portion of the zoo next to the golf course, including a large outdoor cage with three rhesus macaques bouncing around inside.

Fascinated, I asked, “What’s telepathic mean?”

“It means they can move things with their minds. They pull some shots into the woods to get them later.”

“What do they want golf balls for? Do they eat them too?”

“No, they use them. They play out here once everyone leaves.”

I was certain this was true. It was too incredible not to be. As soon as my grandfather entered the portable bathroom, I pulled my pitching wedge from the rental bag and flung it deep into the trees. I smiled and waved toward the monkeys, knowing they’d appreciate the gift.

At home, my grandfather’s internal rage at the $50 it would cost to replace the wedge was perfectly counteracted by my grandmother’s uproarious delight.

“Serves you proper,” she said.

Scott Bade is a Metropolitan State University English major graduate and, with his lovely wife, Erika, soon to welcome his first child into the world. They’re waiting until the child is born to know the gender. As long as he or she is a pro-golfer, he’ll be happy.

(Illustration: Andy Singer)

One day, Darby and Marcella were quietly having lunch at a Galtier Plaza skyway table. Both worked at Cray Research, he in testing and she in quality assurance. Marcella had just unwrapped her jelly sandwich when Darby popped his question. “What’s the difference between an elephant and a flea?”

Marcella opened the small spiral notebook she brought every day to lunch, and began to write the question down, but then paused. She removed another notebook from her purse and flipped through it rapidly.

“Aha,” she announced. “October 14th.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“An elephant can have fleas, but a flea can’t have elephants.” She snapped the notebook shut.

“Noooo!” he moaned. “You have to give me another chance. According to the rules, right?”

Marcella located another notebook, even more ragged than the one she’d just shut. “After the first joke repetition, Darby is allowed to tell another elephant joke. If he repeats himself with the second joke, he has one last question.”

Darby thought long and hard. Marcella took a bite of her sandwich.

The elephant jokes had begun a few years earlier, when Darby came across Marcella during the noon hour. She was sitting exactly where she was now, quietly crying into her jelly sandwich.

They’d been acquaintances, but not yet friends, and that day she needed a friend. She told him she’d just been dumped by her fiancé, a junior executive in the marketing division. Darby removed a clean tissue from his pocket protector, handed it to her, and offered to marry her on the spot.

He was more serious than she knew, but made the offer sound like a joke. She sniffled that he must be joking, but thanked him anyway. It was then he told the first elephant joke.

She laughed harder than she’d ever laughed at anything. “Well, now,” she said. “You’re welcome to join me for lunch any day, as long as the elephant jokes hold out.”

“There are literally trunks of elephant jokes,” he quipped. “So you won’t be rid of me anytime soon.”

Now it seemed he had finally run out of material. Mustard dripped from his Braunschweiger sandwich onto his shirt. Finally, a joke came to him. “How can you tell whether you’re eating elephant or peanut butter?”

“Elephant doesn’t stick to the roof of your mouth!” she said, triumphantly, without referencing her notes.

Darby gasped and turned pale. “I have one final shot. Right?”

“Right. You remember what happens if the jokes run out?” Marcella dabbed at Darby’s mustard stain.

Yes. He knew. It would be time to get serious. Her broken heart had long since healed, yet he was the one dragging his feet, unwilling to take a risk.

All he’d ever asked of her was one more day, one more lunch, another new joke. Why get serious? Wouldn’t that end it for them? Still, he’d agreed to the rules.

He’d told all the elephant-in-the-refrigerator jokes, all the jokes about how many elephants you can fit in taxis and Volkswagens. Why elephants have blue shoes (white shoes get dirty too fast), why they float upside down (to keep their blue shoes dry), all of the jokes about elephants crossing the road—with and without chickens. All of the wordplay jokes: elephones (how elephants communicate), elecoptors (what’s big and gray and can fly straight up?), elevision (what elephants do for entertainment).

There was really only one question left.

Darby got down on his knees and held Marcella’s hand. “I’m out of elephant jokes. Will you marry me anyway?”

Happy tears accompanied her answer.“Yes!”

Susan Koefod still remembers reading elephant joke books as a child. She writes and publishes in various genres, was born in Saint Paul, and has lived in and around Saint Paul her entire life. Her debut novel, Washed Up, was published by North Star Press in 2011.

(Photo: Macalester College)

In the spring of 1994, I was a writer in residence for Consortium of Associated Colleges in the Twin Cities. This meant that participating campuses would house me for seven days, and during this time I would do individual and group writing critiques, a workshop, and a formal reading for the entire campuses at St. Thomas University, Macalester College, Augsburg College, Hamline University, and College of St. Catherine.

I’d been to the Twin Cities before, mostly in the summer to visit my godson and his mother, but I had not been during the winter. The cold of Minnesota is infamous, and I am extremely sensitive to cold weather. My friend Charlie Sugnet assured me that the worst of winter would be over in March and April, and that it would be not much colder than New York.

I arrived fully prepared for the onslaught of biting winds and head-high snow mounds. The campus at St. Thomas University was set on the banks of the Mississippi, but when I arrived, I did not know this nor had I fully grasped the geography. The next morning on my way to meet the English faculty, covered from head to toe in a new long coat and knee-high boots, I encountered a young man in shorts, a hooded sweat jacket, and Birkenstock sandals hurrying across campus to class. I asked if his mother knew he was courting pneumonia. He smiled and said it was balmy today compared to the previous week when the temperature had been below 30 degrees. I asked him about the lake, and he told me with a big smile that it was the Mississippi River. I had no idea of the vastness of the river, because what I’d seen in New Orleans was muddy and resembled a lake. After a few days, the weather changed and became Minnesota winter.

Next, I went to Augsburg, where I stayed in a big apartment that normally housed at least three students. While at Macalester, I was able to walk across the street to a bus stop and travel around Saint Paul. There were lots of Vietnamese restaurants. I was taken to dinner by various faculty members and later to the lovely home of Cass Daglish. In fact, we continued to stay in touch for many years afterward.

It was also at Macalester College that I encountered some multicultural exchanges. The first came from a few students who were Asian adoptees. In private sessions, they talked about their growing interests in their Asian heritage and, in a few cases, the resistance to this by their parents. They were all from South Korea. Only one had actually been back because he’d been able to trace the adoption agency that handled him. Two of the others were taking language classes at a nearby cultural center. I stayed in touch for a while with one of the young men because he later came to Columbia University. All were having problems with their adopted parents understanding their cultural needs. All of the students said they sometimes felt guilty when their parents said they felt rejection.

In another class, I made an observation that in their stories all the characters seemed identical: blonde with varying lengths of hair, blue eyes, and very slender figures. This was true whether the characters were male or female. This did not seem to be an issue for the class. In fact, one of the students said it would probably be the same if I described my tribe: everyone would be black, wooly hair and, you know, full lips. I said not everyone looks alike no matter where they come from.

One young woman spoke up saying she’d never been in close contact with someone who was—there was a significant pause as she searched for the word; I supplied African. In her town, all the families knew each other. Most were from Scandinavian immigrants. She was the first person in her hamlet to attend college in Saint Paul, and felt it important to return home and share her experiences. Some did have racial reservations about—again a pause—African people, but, she defended they were all good people, not racists. I am not sure of her age but I would venture to guess less than twenty-one. My observation about the characters had by now been lost.

I met lots of Somalis and they seemed to have adjusted, coming from an extremely hot and dry country to a state with severe cold weather. Some said they had experienced racism. Others said that Minnesota residents lived in isolation and didn’t interact with people who looked different, other than on TV. There were also some intra-racial problems with Blacks. They evidenced disdain for African Americans while many of the youth, especially the boys, imitated postures and dress codes associated with young African Americans. They all said they were proud to be Somali and loved America.

I continued to wrap myself in my layers of long coats and shawls. Sometimes I went for rides with Charlie and my new friend, Don Belton. Don and I became very close, and it was a great tragedy when he was brutally murdered four years ago in Indiana. When we spoke, two days before Christmas, he wished me a pleasant Kwanzaa. Before going out to Indiana, he used to come up to New York and spend time with me.

I have since gone back many times to Saint Paul and Minneapolis. I attended a few of the Juneteenth events put on by my late friend, DeJunius Hughes, and his wife, Karen Starr. Charlie and I have a very close friendship and he has been here many times. I have really fond memories of the shops, especially a yarn shop, because I am a knitter. That writing residency gave me a geographic and cultural education, and lasting friends.

Rashidah Ismaili AbuBakr is now retired but teaches in a low-residence creative writing MA and MFA program at Wilkes University in Pennsylvania. She is now writing full time in all genres. Her apartment is home to Salon d’Afrique, where she holds soirees with visiting artists and Harlemites.

William LaMont Kaufman (Photo research: Matt Schmitt)

My father left Owatonna to enter World War I when he was twenty-one. While hiding in trenches in the Argonne Forest of France, he became close friends with Hesley Jensen, a small soldier from Wisconsin. Hesley was so little that he quickly earned the name “the little Swede” from his army platoon. All of these men fought valiantly, using their spare minutes to discuss and plan their dreams of when—and if—they came home. My dad had a passion for nature even then—trees, flowers, landscapes, animals—and these became a dream for him in the cold, muddy trenches of the forest. Hesley was suddenly hit by a German sniper and gravely injured. Dad picked him up and prayed while Hesley died in his arms. The dreaded mustard gas took a devastating toll on my father’s lungs and health, and a bullet from a German sniper struck his leg.

After World War I ended, Dad spent time in the Minneapolis Veteran’s Hospital. He never completely regained his health. But now he could put his dreams and love of nature into action. He and my mother moved to St. Louis, Missouri, where he enrolled in and completed his studies in landscape architecture, an intricate piece of his lifelong ambition. He worked alone, designing gardens and yards for many clients, including some who lived on wealthy estates. He designed walkways, plantings, woods, flowerbeds, and statuary. Very soon he combined his talents with politics and was hired as the superintendent of Saint Paul Parks, the position that fulfilled his dreams.

As the superintendent, he was once invited by the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) to speak at the dedication of a burial section for World War I veterans in the Bayport, Minnesota, cemetery. After his speech, a parade, and an emotional playing of “Taps,” a woman asked if she could say a few words. She asked if anyone present had known her son, Hesley Jensen, who had died in the Argonne Forest in France. Dad walked to the podium, extending his hand, and told her that her son had died in his arms. This brought closure for both of them.

Rebuilt Fireplace at Como Park. (Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

Pat Kaufman-Knapp was born and raised in Saint Paul, and attended St. Joseph’s Academy, as has her mother’s family for over 100 years. She served seven years in the Navy WAVES, moved to Nashville, Tennessee, and quickly became involved in volunteering there as a Civil War guide, teaching a writing class, writing newsletters, and doing public speaking.

Related Links

Booklet: The Rededication of the Joyce Kilmer Memorial Fireplace from Saint Paul Parks and Recreation.

(illustration: Andy Singer)

The kid loved basketball. He never had a basketball to speak of, but the school had plenty. The kid had a favorite. It was old, smooth, and had the feel of rough paper. It bounced as high as any of the new ones. The kid felt alive when it bounced back perfectly.

The kid knew the concrete playing field—all the broken spaces and the cracking cover of the court. The kid knew how to angle and fly by the arms and legs of others. All for that beautiful sound: swoosh.

On the court, the kid was calm and in control. On the court, the kid was happy.

Looking forward to school days put a target on the kid’s back. Enjoying the quiet of the library put a target on the kid’s back. Finishing homework put a target on the kid’s back. Not being dark enough put a target on the kid’s back. Writing clearly, knowing answers, being quiet, everything put a target on the kid’s back.

But on the court, the kid was free. The kid had skills that shamed them all. And one day the kid beat the best. One day, one hour, one game, the kid was king.

Lunch hour was almost over. All the white bread, crackers, and apple juice—over. The focus for the kid was the court. The court was broken in places, pieces here and there, grass growing through the concrete. Torn nets on the rims. The backboards, bruised metal, were older than anybody on the court.

The kid saw Sam waiting at the other side of the court. The teams were made over lunch, the kid on one, Sam on the other. It was a long rivalry, a heated rivalry, played out every day on the court. The kid and Sam were never on a team together. Never.

A penny was flipped and the kid’s team got the ball. The game began.

It was a whirl of arms and legs, of torn jeans and busted shoes, of dirty hands and long hair. The fouls were flying, hits on the head with elbows, slaps on the arms leaving red marks.

Sam got the ball, his team was on the lead, and Sam made a three shot. The kid was getting angry; had to focus, just needed two threes to get ahead.

It was a whirl of arms and legs, of torn jeans and busted shoes, of dirty hands and long hair. The fouls were flying, hits on the head with elbows, slaps on the arms leaving red marks.

The kid got the ball from the out and headed for the rim. Sam came out to the left and attacked, almost got the ball, but the kid passed it and his teammate made a shot. Now the kid felt a rumble. Sam had the ball and the kid watched. Sam’s wrist spun as he bounced the ball, a weakness. Sam ran for the rim, and the kid slid by and reached in, sliced the ball away from Sam and headed for the rim. Swoosh.

The call: five minutes left for recess.

Sam stood in the court dumbstruck. No one ever took the ball from him. His team had the out and the kid took it from Sam again, another slice and pass, a three shot made.

Time.

The kid walked away from the court.

Elena Cisneros is an MFA student at Hamline University in Saint Paul.

The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce the seventh in its 2011–2012 season of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams, which celebrate the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city.

The "Raising Consciousness and Healing Through Words" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the popular and eclectic series, curated by Sheronda Orridge, features performances by Akeeylah Watkins, Angel Myatt, Monique Crusoe, Karyssa Jackson, Kashimana, Dianne Moore, and Fanond Burnett. RSVP on Facebook

About "Raising Consciousness and Healing Through Words"

We live in the information age of the World Wide Web, social networking, text messages, You Tube and e-mails. With all of the new ways of communicating, we are disconnected from each other more than ever. It is time to get back to the basics of communicating and expression through singing, storytelling, and spoken word. Writing and performing is healing to the soul and spirit. It is one of the simplest and least expensive ways of therapy as well as a way of teaching and reflecting on lessons learned.

About the Performers

Sheronda Orridge

After a sixteen-year hiatus from performing, Sheronda made a conscious decision in 2008 to start performing again. Since then, she has appeared around the Twin Cities metro area as well as in Phoenix; Washington, D.C.; Anderson, Indiana; Atlanta; Kansas City, Missouri; and Winnipeg.

In 2012 Sheronda received the Community Honor Roll Award, a parenting award, and a Black History organizational award. Sheronda’s philosophy—in organizing and in life—is that there are many ways to get to the vision of healthy communities, and we must explore them all.

Akeeylah Watkins

Akeeylah has volunteered with several organizations, including Camphor Church, Mother’s Touch daycare, the Wellness Center, and St. Catherine University. Akeeylah is a founding youth member and a teen facilitator of the group "Healing Through Words." She has performed rap and spoken word all over the Twin Cities, including open mics, family events, charity benefits, and several St. Paul charter schools. In 2012, Akeeylah received two leadership plaques for community organizing and peer mentoring.

Angel Myatt

At the age of twenty, Saint Paul Public Housing handpicked and sponsored Angel to participate in Wilder Foundation's Neighborhood Leadership Program. She began work with young kids for the American Red Cross. In 2009, she joined the “Healing Through Words” movement, using her gift of poetry and motivational speech to stir her community. In 2011, she graduated from SPEAC, a community organizing program of Hope Community. She now sits on SPEAC’s advisory board. In 2011, Angel became a Certified Life Coach through Loving Spirit Life Coach Academy.

Monique Crusoe

Ms. Nique initially used writing as a way to vent while dealing with some of the toughest times in her life, and decided to share her work to inspire people to follow their dreams. Ms. Nique speaks with groups of both adults and young people at branches of social services, high schools, community centers, and local churches. Ms. Nique’s favorite quote is “Appreciate life and all it has to offer.”

Karyssa Jackson

These experiences helped Karyssa realize that she could use art and community organizing in tandem to promote social justice and equity. This new path has allowed her to look at things more holistically, understanding that it is not just educational disparities that are affecting youth, but also transit, affordable housing, and community development.

Kashimana (Kash) is a Saint Paul-based singer/songwriter who hails from Nigeria. Kashimana was writing songs before she could hold a pen in her hand and, after watching Michael Jackson on TV, decided to become a performing artist. It wasn’t long before she was performing in schools, in church, and in the shower.

Kashimana is also a singer in two local bands, The Brandon Projekt and the New Groove Society. The Brandon Projekt (a neo-soul and funk band) will be releasing an album in May. In 2011, Kashimana cofounded Dream Halo Productions, and is currently planning her first full album, which she will write and produce with local artists. Kashimana’s music style can be described as acoustic pop and soul. You can find her on ReverbNation, Facebook, and MySpace.

Kashimana says,

“I sing because there is no other art that comes from the heart. Every time I sing, I get to create a new piece of art that cannot be imitated or re-created; the performance is unique, the notes may end but the emotions echo on. I write because I am fascinated by the people I meet, the stories that find me, and the urge to communicate universally.”

Dianne Moore

Dianne began performing in high school and has portrayed Diana Ross in the Motown tribute from 2002 until the present. Her students have opened for Celine Dion at Target Center. Dianne holds a BA in Music Education and a master's in Vocal Performance, and is in the process of writing a musical about the late Paul Wellstone.

Fanond Burnett

During his incarceration, he realized that he was looking for truthful answers in life and began to search for his purpose. After studying the Bible to gain knowledge and understanding, Fanond gave his life to Jesus Christ, and today expresses his love for the Lord in music performances across the Twin Cities.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Location & Directions

The "Raising Consciousness and Healing Through Words" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, May 23rd, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

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Get directions from (your address):

The "Routes to Roots: 'Sankofa' and uncovering our histories through our artistic journey" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, April 25th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the popular and eclectic series, curated by M.anifest, features performances by poet and playwright Lisa Marie Brimmer, producer and community organizer Owen Duckworth, and M.anifest. RSVP on Facebook.

About "Routes to Roots"

Growing up in Ghana, elderly folk often reminded the younger generation about the potency of Sankofa, a life principle which means to move into the future you have to know and embrace your past.

My path as a writer of words and melody has led me to uncover many personal and cultural histories in ways that have emboldened my pen and furthered my work in and out of music.

From moving discoveries of poetry connections, between myself and my ninety year old grandfather, to knowing more about the music of my ancestors sometimes sparked by the process of "sampling."

In this reading we will explore the routes we take to reach our roots: both personal histories and artistic histories. In this reading we will share how Sankofa happens in our artistic endeavors and the power it has in strengthening and inspiring us for the future.

About the Performers

M.anifest is a Ghanaian rapper and songwriter making waves with his brand of lyrical and socially mindful music. He migrated to the Twin Cities in 2001 to attend Macalester College from which he graduated in 2005 to become a staple in the Twin Cities music community, and has since toured nationally, in Europe, as well as in his native country Ghana.

M.anifest

Lisa Brimmer

Her play Dear Daughter was featured in Bedlam’s Annual Community Play Festival. She has participated in the Pillsbury House Theater's Chicago Avenue Project twice as a Mentoring Playwright and her work has been featured in the Pillsbury House Theatre’s Late Nite Series, The Loft’s Equilibrium (EQ) series and Groove Theory at Elixir Lounge. Her poetry has appeared in the Summit Avenue Review and Ishmael Reed’s literary magazine Konch and Lulu’s Playground's forthcoming CD.

Owen Duckworth is a Twin Cities based music producer and community organizer/activist. By day he works as an organizer at Transit for Livable Communities, a non-profit advocating for increased public transit investment in the region. By night, he operates as a music producer by the name of O-D. Born and raised in Milwaukee, WI in a multi-racial family with one parent from England and the other from the Seychelles Islands, his diverse cultural background has informed his approach to both music and organizing work.

Owen Duckworth

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Location & Directions

The "Routes to Roots: 'Sankofa' and uncovering our histories through our artistic journey" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, April 25th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

(Photo: Tobechi Tobechukwu)

nature abhors
taxation
as does the
populace,
yet rain showers
and sunshine
blend well this month
as do last minute
important
imaginative
deductions
that give us
a running chance
to refund
ourselves.

Diego Vázquez Jr. writes poems to flowers, birds, rocks, rivers, salmon, and people, too! Vázquez’s stories were included in Twelve Branches, and his novels include Growing through the Ugly and The Fat-Brush Painter. You might meet him in your school through a COMPAS residency. He is proud to have his poem stuck in cement (in a Saint Paul sidewalk).

Accepted artists will be awarded $10 per image, one free issue of the 2013 Almanac, and artist's bio and link listed in the 2013 Saint Paul Almanac book. Note: Artists will retain full copyright to any of their images published in the Saint Paul Almanac.

To be considered, please send email to scott@saintpaulalmanac.org. Applicants must include the following information:

● Indicate if you are either, an active artist living or creating work in Saint Paul, or an artist from any other location entering with work related to Saint Paul. If you are not living or working in Saint Paul, please indicate how the images you are submitting are related to Saint Paul.

● Attach up to three images.

● Please include: contact information, website (optional), and a 50 word or less bio/artist statement; if your artist name is different than the name that should be supplied on a check to a bank, please make that clear. For each piece you are submitting include label information for the September exhibition, including: title, medium, year, and price (or NFS). Also please make it clear which image file matches each title.

Submissions must be received by 12 pm on Thursday April 5^th.

Accepted artists will be informed by Wednesday April 11^th.

Any artists who do not have a high enough quality image to be published in the Almanac may have their accepted entries professionally photographed by the Almanac's photographer free of charge (assuming they live within a reasonable distance of Lowertown, or are willing to travel to Saint Paul).

Final, high resolution images of accepted works are due by April 25^th.

Cynthia (right) and her sister on the way to Pig’s Eye Island City Dump (Photo courtesy of Cynthia Schreiner Smith)

When I was growing up near Mounds Park during the fifties and sixties, fresh milk was delivered to our stoop like clockwork; however, no one came to haul away the refuse. A big, rusty metal drum in our back yard received the trash instead. When it got full, my father lit it on fire. Items you couldn’t burn—bottles, cans, old plastic toys—were driven to the Pig’s Eye Island City Dump.

My brother almost always got to go with Dad to the dump, a fact that he lorded over his little sisters. But sometimes we got to go too. Dad would throw the trash in the trunk of his Chevy and we’d fly down steep Warner Road toward the Mississippi River. At the bottom of the hill, he’d take a hairpin left turn onto the gravel road that led to Pig’s Eye Island and the dump. My father paid fifty cents at the gate for the privilege of adding to the mountain of trash.

Afterward, we’d continue farther onto the island to visit the farm of my Uncle Mickey. We called him Uncle Bum-Bum because he lived on an Island called Pig’s Eye, beyond the dump, past the municipal sewage treatment plant, and across many railroad tracks with boxcars hiding hobos. I remember one visit when all three of us kids were in the car. As we passed the sewage treatment plant, we somehow convinced Dad to stop and see if we could take a peek inside. Being young children, we were fascinated by all things pertaining to toilets. I’m sure the man inside was surprised to see our little family asking for a tour.

Most people had no interest in the graphic details of disposing with bathroom waste. Receiving a warm invitation to come inside, we were met by an enthralling maze of pipes, vats, and spigots—and an unpleasant odor. The worker kept up a running patter of mesmerizing facts regarding Saint Paul’s sewage system. Eventually we were led into a huge room with a gigantic open pool that glistened a beautiful golden yellow. It took us a moment to figure out what it was. My brother gleefully threatened to dunk his little sisters in it. We screamed with appropriate giggling and fear.

The tour ended with a trip to the office, where the man kept a strange collection in a little glass case. He saved unusual items that people accidentally flushed down the biffy—most commonly coins, rings, and false teeth. The most interesting thing was a glass eye. The thought of some poor person’s eyeball popping out and flushing away horrified and delighted us all at once.

At home, we breathlessly told our mother about our exciting trip to the Pig’s Eye sewage treatment plant. Mom just shook her head, giving Dad that “What were you thinking?” look. But all she said was: “Sounds wonderful, kids. I hope you remembered to thank the nice man.”

Aghast, I realized I had not. I felt horrible the rest of the night. He had been so nice, so proud of his unappreciated job. Lying in bed, I fretted and fretted, thinking about the nice man and his collection of flushed items. Suddenly, inspiration hit! I jumped out of bed, wrote him a neatly printed thank-you note, carried it to the bathroom, and flushed it. Confident he would get my note in the morning, I fell blissfully asleep.

Cynthia Schreiner Smith has turned her early fascination with Pig’s Eye into a successful career as a historical tour guide for Down In History Tours at the Wabasha Street Caves. She can be seen most often portraying the 1930s gangster Edna Murray, a.k.a. the Kissing Bandit.

Keys Café in downtown Saint Paul. Keys is also on Raymond Avenue. (Photo: Henry Jackson)

Every time I have been to Keys, I’ve ordered buttermilk pancakes with eggs and a sausage. Their pancakes are soft, buttery, golden, and huge! Whenever I get the pancakes, I always expect them to be smaller than they are. They’re practically as big as the plate and almost as thick too. Though, for some reason, it just makes them taste better.

I also like their side of bacon and their cinnamon caramel rolls. The bacon is super good and has just the right amount of fat. The caramel rolls are tall and puffy, with caramel and butter oozing down the sides. The people there make their own strawberry jelly to go on toast, and the flavor goes well with the toast.

When you order eggs, they let you choose if you want your eggs scrambled, over easy, etc.

Keys is a great restaurant and I recommend it for any restaurant outing. Don’t be afraid to try something new every time. Don’t worry, I bet you’ll love it!

Arlo Beckman attends sixth grade in Saint Paul Public Schools. Arlo’s favorite hobby is baseball. He used to live in San Francisco, California, but then his dad was offered a better job in Minnesota, so he moved. He has many friends in Saint Paul and likes it here.

Patricia Black at Aurora/St. Anthony Neighborhood Development Corporation offices. (Photo: Deborah Torraine)

The first sixteen years of my life were spent in Minneapolis in a poor White neighborhood. My siblings and I were the only Black children in the schools we attended. Yes, there was a great deal of prejudice in our community. Little children don’t know hate; they have to be taught. Even though my White friends’ parents may not have liked their children being friends with us, most of them accepted it because they loved their children more than they hated us.

Some families were not accepting and forbade their children to be friends with us, and would beat their kids when they found that they had played with us anyway. I was really hurt when my best friend showed up totally bruised because of our friendship. Nevertheless, she refused to end our friendship.

Even though I enjoyed my childhood and had lots of friends, I longed for the day I could be with and associate with Black people. That day came when I entered Minneapolis Central High School. To my surprise, I found I was not welcome into their group. I felt like the little lion cub, Elsa, who was raised by humans and longed to be with her own kind when she came of age. She was not welcome because the wild lions could smell the humans on her and her behavior was different. I was not accepted because my speech and mannerisms were White. I was an Oreo cookie, Black on the outside and White on the inside. The Black kids detected it right away. I had to learn to be Black. For two hard years I worked at becoming Black.

In 1953, there was an upheaval in my family, and my siblings and I were separated and went to different foster homes. I came to Saint Paul as a foster child. My new foster parents were very nice people with a son and a daughter. They introduced me to their friends who were reluctant to accept me. I just couldn’t go through trying to fit in with people who didn’t accept me again.

I played the piano and my foster family didn’t have one, so I used to go over to St. James AME Church, on Central and Dale Street, to use the piano. I met a group of teenagers that hung out there. They were very friendly and accepted me. That was the beginning of the happiest years of my life. I have a hard time understanding people who put down foster homes, but maybe mine was unique. Maybe God blessed me with a really nice foster home and a personality that gets along with most everyone. I remained in my foster home until I was twenty-one and got married. Later, I found that that is very unusual, as foster children are required to leave at age eighteen.

My new friends and I spent many happy hours hanging out at Field’s Drugstore, Hallie Q. Brown Center, and St. James AME Church. St. James had a youth program, which kept us occupied.

It was a wonderful time of life. I look back on those days when Black people did not have equal opportunity and were forced to live in the “Black Belt,” now known as the ghetto. There was freedom in our community. Our community was free of crime, drugs, and prostitution, and no one would bother you if you were walking down the street late at night.

In 1980, burglaries, drugs, and prostitution moved in to our community. Ron Pauline founded Aurora/St. Anthony NDC (Neighborhood Development Corporation), to address the problem. He taught us pride in where we live. He pointed out that we have prime property in this city because you could get on the bus and go anywhere in the Twin Cities you wanted to go. Everything we needed was within our reach by bus. I am proud of my neighborhood, and raised two fine children in this community.

When people recognized de facto segregation, many Black people moved out of the neighborhood and into White neighborhoods and suburbs. I stayed right here, because I never wanted my children to grow up not knowing their own people or feeling that the only way they can achieve is through White people. Ghetto is a word that means a place where people live because of race, creed, or color. It does not mean that you are ignorant, uneducated, or poor. No one should feel shame because they live in a ghetto. The shame is on the people who put you there.

I continue to work with Aurora/St. Anthony NDC because not only is it working to preserve this historic community, but, also, it teaches Black people pride in themselves. That is very important.

Patricia Black continues to work with Aurora/St. Anthony Neighborhood Development Corporation because the organization works to preserve this historic community and, also, teaches Black people to have pride in themselves. That is very important.

“Centennial gesture”; men for whom certain Minnesota lakes were named: Max Shulman, Daniel D. Mich, Herman Salisbury, Sig Michelson with Governor Orville Freeman. (Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

Steve Trimble writes:

Max Shulman (1919–1988) grew up in a Jewish community in Saint Paul’s Selby-Dale neighborhood. After graduating from Central High School, he earned a journalism degree from the University of Minnesota. His writings were invariably humorous and were published in novels and magazines. He eventually became a successful writer for theater and television. His novel Potatoes are Cheaper was a portrayal of life in the city in the late 1930s.

Max Shulman, Potatoes Are Cheaper (Doubleday and Company, 1971): 1–4, 23

Oh sure, potatoes were cheaper all right, and so were tomatoes, just like Eddie Cantor kept singing on the radio, but who the hell had money to buy any except maybe Eddie Cantor?

But finally, thank God, we got a break. On March the 14th, 1936, Pa went down to the St. Paul Public Library just like he did every day as usual. Not that he was such a great reader; in fact he could hardly read at all, not English anyhow, except maybe for eviction and foreclosure notices. He could read Yiddish all right, but that didn’t help because there were no Yiddish books in the St. Paul Public Library. But Pa went every day anyhow. What else could he do? He didn’t have a job to go to, and if he stayed home Ma would give him the whammy all day long. So where else could he find that was (a) warm; and (b) free?

So on this March the 14th, 1936, we’re talking about, Pa started walking into the library as usual, but he never got inside because he slipped on an icy step and fractured his tailbone. Or as my mother told the whole neighborhood, “He fell and broke his ass, my smart husband.”

Naturally we sued the city. My cousin Herbie who got out of law school five years ago took the case—his first case, as it happened. But he was confident. “Don’t worry, Aunt Pearl,” he told my mother. “We got ’em dead to rights. You’ll collect fifty thousand minimum.”

Herbie figured a little high. The actual settlement came to $125 of which the doctor grabbed twenty. Still and all, it was the biggest chunk of money we’d seen since my father took up unemployment back in 1929, and we had a family conference at five o’clock one evening to decide what to do with it...

“So who got a suggestion?” said Ma.

Pa stepped forward. Pa used to be a house painter back in the olden days when he was working and this is what he suggested: He’d take the hundred dollars and get his Plymouth back from the finance company. Then he’d drive around St. Paul looking for houses that needed painting and when he found one he’d try to sell the people a paint job.

Ma gave him a look. “Very intelligent,” she said. “But I got a question. When a house needs painting, it’s because they ain’t got money to paint. So how are they gonna pay you, Dr. I.Q.?”...

Now my sister Libbie stepped forward. … “I think I should have the money,” said Libbie, “so I can buy some decent clothes and get invited to nice parties and meet the right kind of people.”

Ma gave Libbie a look. “Very intelligent,” said Ma. “But I got a question. Who among your shlepper friends is gonna invite you to a nice party?”

Libbie couldn’t think of an answer so naturally she started in crying. Ma turned to me next. “Well, breadwinner,” she said, “I suppose you think you should have the money too?”...

“This is gonna be better than you think,” I said. “I will go to college.”

What a bombshell! College? Who ever heard of such a thing? First of all I was twenty years old and already two years out of high school. Second, the highest mark I ever got in high school was a B-minus and that was in tin shop. And third, even if you were a genius and came out of college with a lawyer degree or a doctor degree you’d still starve to death these days like everybody else.

They gave me a look, all of them, not just Ma, but Pa and Libbie too. They just stood and stared at me like they couldn’t imagine where in the world I got such a nutty idea...

“In college I will have a chance to meet rich girls,” I said, “and let’s face it, the only way this family is ever gonna see any money is if I marry it.”

Then I stepped back and waited for Ma to give me the whammy.

But she just stood and rubbed her chin for a couple minutes. “Makes sense,” she said finally.

Steve Trimble lives in the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood near Indian Mounds Park. He has researched, written, and taught Twin Cities and Minnesota history. He serves on the editorial board of the Ramsey County Historical Society and the St. Paul Heritage Preservation Commission. He has recently authored a large article in Ramsey County History on three East Side neighborhoods in the 1940s and ’50s. He also collects novels set in Minnesota and plants heirloom tomatoes.

Keg delivery wagon, Hamm’s Brewery (Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

Patrick Coleman writes:

LeSueur was perhaps Minnesota’s most famous proletarian writer, so it is not surprising that she wrote about the humble people of Saint Paul’s Swede Hollow. The following selection was written during Prohibition, ushered in by passage of the Volstead Act in 1919.

Meridel LeSueur, “Beer Town,” Life in the United States: A Collection of Narratives of Contemporary American Life from First-Hand Experience or Observation (Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1933); pages 31–33, 40.

I should have had a bad life. Any reformer would say so. I was bred, born and raised in the shadow of the old-time, pre-Volstead brewery. Below it, in the shadow, lived the Germans, the Irish, the Swedes, and it rose upon the hill like a castle and from it night and day came the yeasty odor of beer...

The resemblance to a feudal castle was increased when later Mr. Hamm’s sons took unto themselves wives, and his daughters were wedded and he built beside his own Rhine mansion other preposterous edifices looking down over the town and the Mississippi.

Below across the tracks on the other side lay what was called the Hollow. Here lived the man-power that manned the brewery. They lived in homemade houses that looked as if they were built from scraps like a family quilt, but they had an intimate aspect, for each man had put his house together like a piece of embroidery, with the color of an old sign and a flash of tin, but they were tight and neat with smoke curling cosily [sic] from the slanting chimneys in winter. A stream ran through the Hollow, and over this lovely thread of water sat the outhouses, each delicate and crazy shamble propped over the stream on planks. They tipped over easily in a wind or when pushed. In the back of each house there was a small patch of garden set out crookedly, and usually a rickety fence marked the boundaries of a tiny square of “lawn” in front. The streets were unpaved and in spring full of water...

In the morning we were awakened by the rumbling of the beer-wagons going out loaded to the town. The streets leading to the brewery were of cobblestones because the huge beer wagons were death on ordinary pavement. The clatter of horses and the rumble of the heavily burdened wagons made a fierce rumble and clanging, and half in our dreams we started up seeing the splendid horses treading sparks and hearing that strange sound of hoofs beating out and away in the morning. We ran to the windows and looked up the hill and saw the brewery rising all safe and stable with the cattle in the barns, the men climbing up to work, the animals waking and lowing, the drivers driving out their wagons of beer, cracking their whips, crying out to each other, swearing full-mouthed oaths, the horses snorting and backing and galloping off, rumbling the great wagons into town. We saw the complete, the substantial, feudal city flashing up in the morning air...

The Hollow and its wreckage still lie below the track, the outhouses still over the stream. Hamm’s Brewery is still there, its Rabelaisian power greatly reduced by what is called the Eighteenth Amendment.

Patrick Coleman is the Minnesota Historical Society acquisitions librarian. He was honored with the prestigious Kay Sexton Award at the twenty-first annual Minnesota Book Awards gala, serves on the board of Coffee House Press, and is a longtime member of the Ampersand Club and the Manuscript Society. He writes the 150 Best Minnesota Books Blog, highlighting books that are important to the intellectual life and identity of the state. Due to his work, the MHS library is one of the preeminent research libraries in the nation.

"Immigrants", Wood Relief, 1930, painted by Peter Wedin, 1894-1980. (Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

When I arrived at the airport my sister and her family came to the airport to pick up my family, and when I saw them, they said “Welcome to Saint Paul.” My first surprise was the snow. Before I came to the United States, I heard people talk about snowfall. I thought, if I go to America, I will eat snow and I don’t need to do anything—just put it in a cup and mix it with sugar and milk, and then we can eat it, because in my country we eat ice a lot in the summer. But in the U.S., no one eats snow.

I grew up in a poor family. I remember when I was ten years old, I liked to climb trees like coconut and mango trees. Usually people in my country grow rice and plant vegetables and fruit to eat. In my country, we have three seasons. We have summer time, raining time, and winter time. We don’t have snow in winter, just a little bit of cold.

We don’t have enough clothes, especially families who have a lot of children, because they have no money to buy clothes for their children. But we have enough food and we eat fresh food everyday. Usually our villages and houses are near the river. One thing that I liked is everybody takes a bath in the river—no one takes a bath at home. I liked the river, and I liked swimming. There is no electricity or refrigerator and everybody uses candles or lamps at nighttime.

Now I live in Minnesota—just my older sister and me. I am married and have two kids, and my sister has four kids. We are lucky that we had the opportunity to come to the United States. My parents and my two brothers and two sisters stayed at the Thailand-Burma border.

My life in the United States is much better. I have learned a lot of good things. Even though I couldn’t speak English or understand when I came, now I can do it. I can drive, I have a car, and I can use the computer too. The government in the U.S. and the governments in Asia are different because I saw a lot of people in Thailand and Burma where the education for kids is so poor. There is no public assistance, and no opportunities for poor people. But here in the United States, it is different. Everybody, every kid can go to school without money, and our kids can get public transportation for school. People who have low incomes can get benefits from the government like food support and health insurance. That is why I would like to say “Thanks, America.”

Paw Ree Say has been living in Saint Paul for three years and three months. She is from Burma, and grew up in a large, very poor family. She has two brothers and four sisters. She also has two children: a four-year-old boy and a six-year-old girl. She enjoys going to the park with her family when she has free time. Someday she hopes to earn her GED and attend college. She likes Saint Paul because this is the place where she rebuilt her new life.

Mounds Theatre today (Photo: Pa Yong Xiong)

I’ve lived in Dayton’s Bluff just a few blocks from the Mounds Theatre all my life, but not for the whole life of the Mounds Theatre. It was built in 1922, and I was born twenty-nine years later.

The Mounds started out as a silent movie house. It was billed as “The Pride of Dayton’s Bluff.” It had a small stage for vaudeville acts. Local musicians played in an orchestra pit.

The first “talkie” was shown at the Mounds in late March 1929—on what would eventually become my birthday. The movie was My Man, starring Fannie Brice. The Mounds was remodeled in the 1930s, receiving air conditioning, an exterior ticket booth, and a fancy marquee.

The theater had a close call in the late 1940s, when Highway 12 cut through Dayton’s Bluff, destroying all of the businesses and homes across the street from it. Surviving that, the Mounds underwent a major renovation in 1950. Its brick exterior was covered with stucco, its vertical sign and marquee were replaced with a horizontal, twinkling “MOUNDS” sign and lighted attraction board, and most of its interior was “modernized.”

I’m pretty sure the first movie I saw at the Mounds was the original Shaggy Dog in 1959. After that I saw so many movies there that it is difficult to remember many specific ones. At first they were mostly Disney flicks. One Sunday in 1962, our family hiked over to the Mounds in a snowstorm to see Disney’s Babes in Toyland. Eventually, I graduated to more grown-up movies, including the first James Bond films, Dr. No, From Russia with Love, and the greatest of them all, Goldfinger.

I don’t remember the final movie I saw at the Mounds, but it was on a rainy night and a section of the auditorium was roped off because the roof was leaking. The Mounds had fallen on hard times. It finally closed in July 1967.

The Mounds sat empty for decades but there were rumors something was going on inside. Strangest of all, it was always listed in the phone book. I’d occasionally call the number, but no one ever answered. Finally, in 1988, I wrote to Don Boxmeyer, a columnist for the St. Paul Pioneer Press, asking him if he knew anything about it. To my surprise, he wrote an entire column in reply. The building was owned by George Hardenbergh, a former Ramsey County commissioner and a genuine character. He collected old theater organs and had moved them into the Mounds, planning to get them assembled and working. But he never did.

At a 1997 neighborhood meeting about a new streetscape for the area, architect drawings showed the Mounds restored to its former glory. But these were just drawings. There were no actual plans to do anything. When I asked about the current state of the Mounds Theatre, someone said it was infested with rats and would be torn down very soon. But it wasn’t.

In early 2000, I attended another neighborhood meeting and met Raeann Ruth, the executive director of the nonprofit Portage for Youth. She mentioned George Hardenbergh was donating the Mounds Theatre to her organization, and she was in the process of raising money to renovate it. I wrangled a tour of the building. Amazingly, the interior of the theater was still intact, buried under an incredible number of organ pipes and other stuff. Only a couple of light bulbs illuminated the interior. I started working on getting more lights fixed and have been volunteering at the Mounds ever since.

The Mounds officially reopened in October 2003 as a general-purpose venue for movies, plays, dinner theater, and other activities. I once again started watching movies at the Mounds, and finally got to see The Wizard of Oz on a full-sized movie screen.

The Mounds will probably still be going strong long after I am gone. Or maybe I won’t be—gone, that is. The Mounds is purported to be the most haunted place in the Twin Cities. If so, I might drop in for a visit.

Greg Cosimini has lived in Dayton’s Bluff all his life, as did his parents. His four grandparents emigrated from Italy just to live there too. Greg wandered off to the U of M to study electrical things but always came back at night. He then worked in the exotic suburbs of Eagan and Eden Prairie before realizing there is no place like home.

Photo: Dawn Huczek

it is impossible to miss the red bird
the only ember alive
this snowy March
this gray March
this bitter March
this windblown
dismal
pewter
listless
day

Carol Pearce Bjorlie grew up in Richmond, Virginia, which she considers the source of her writer’s voice. She has a bachelor of music degree in cello performance from East Carolina University and an MFA in writing from Hamline University. She teaches music at the University of Wisconsin, River Falls, and writing at The Loft Literary Center. Carol continues to perform and have her work published, including, most recently, a poem in a 2010 anthology, The Wind Blows, The Ice Breaks: Poems of Loss and Renewal by Minnesota Poets, from Nodin Press.

The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce the fifth in its 2011–2012 season of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams, which celebrate the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city.

The "Stories from O.G.s: Honoring the O.riginal G.eneration" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, March 28th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Tou SaiKo Lee, features Fresh Traditions (Tou SaiKo Lee and Grandma Youa Chang), Chilli Lor, Abdi Phenomenal, and Louis Alemayehu. RSVP on Facebook

About "Stories from O.G.s: Honoring the O.riginal G.eneration"

"Stories from O.G.s" is a dynamic, cross-cultural, cross-generational evening of youth honoring elders' stories and passing them on through music, songs, hip hop, and spoken word poetry. Youth and Elder artists with roots from all over the world collaborate to express the connections we have and to immortalize these stories. This show is dedicated to the memory of Deborah Torraine, who had always requested to see Grandma Youa Chang perform.

About the Performers

"Fresh Traditions" (Tou SaiKo Lee and Grandma Youa Chang)

Event curator Tou SaiKo Lee believes in building an influential movement within the Hmong community through the arts. He is a spoken word artist, mentor, and hip hop activist. A mentor for youth at schools and community centers across the country, he speaks about issues that include human rights, diversity, racism, gang violence, and arts for social change. Tou SaiKo Lee is the co-founder of “The H Project,” a compilation music CD inspired by the Hmong people who suffered human rights violations in the jungles of Laos. On occasion, Tou teams up with his grandmother, Youa Chang—who does the traditional Hmong art of kwv txiaj (Hmong poetry chanting)—to perform as the duo “Fresh Traditions.”

Chilli (Chia Lor)

Chilli (Chia Lor) graduated with honors from St. Paul Central High School. She is a community organizer currently attending St. Catherine University and using her spoken word for social justice. As a poet, hip hop artist, and b-girl, Chilli has a vision of changing the lives of youth and women through performing arts.

Louis Alemayehu

Louis Alemayehu, a Minnesota poet, is a product of the Chicago Black Arts Movement. He became rooted in Minnesota to connect with his Anishinabe roots. Alemayehu is the director of the poetry-jazz ensemble Ancestor Energy and the winner of an Urban Griot Award in 2009.

Abdifatah Farah Ali (Abdi Phenomenal)

Abdifatah Farah Ali (Abdi Phenomenal) is a spoken word artist, teaching artist, actor, and community activist. He is a student at St. Cloud State University currently studying clinical psychology. Abdi is dedicated to impacting literacy and youth leadership through the art of spoken word to restore peace back in Somalia.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Location & Directions

The "Stories from O.G.s" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Wednesday, March 28th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

1986 Saint Paul Winter Carnival ice palace, taken from Cherokee Heights (Photo: Axel)

I was a young Philadelphian, freshly divorced, and looking for a new city in which to start my new life. I was tired of rat-filled alleys and dirty heaps of black snow that lined the streets like piles of coal. At a library, I happened upon a travel magazine. And on those glossy, full-color pages, I spotted a picture of the Saint Paul Winter Carnival.

The photo stopped my heart. The ice castle lit up the night like a neon rainbow. The air around the castle glowed brilliant colors, and the blocks of ice were impossibly beautiful, translucent, and heavy as God. This was nothing short of a winter masterpiece. The frozen palace promised wonderful possibilities and magical thinking.

Plus, it was surrounded by clean, soft, fresh snow. I made up my mind then and there: I had to live in Saint Paul, because any city that would build a sparkling ice castle every year was definitely the place I would want to claim as home.

Fifteen years later, I am still here. And though our city most definitely does not build a pretty ice palace yearly, it does not matter. It does not matter.
Susan Solomon is the editor/cartoonist of Sleet Magazine, an online literary journal.

(Photo: Rudy Arnold)

Homemade snow pants of thick wool, ice caked on my jacket sleeves and on my mittens: I head out with my best friend, Rita doll, who’s decked out in her brown velvet cape my mother made. She has a shoebox for a sleigh and away we go to a magic winter land—over huge hills we ride, snow dancing in our faces.

“Time to come in!” my mother calls.

Always too soon.
Gerri Patterson was born in Saint Paul and has lived here for most of her life. She loves cooking, traveling, taking photos of interesting places, and eating good food; she also loves theater and writing. Wine is a plus.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

I like the cold so brisk and fresh

it cuts through clothes

and crimps nose hair. I like

the winter mornings, dark at first

giving way to crystallized trees and pastel

sunrises. I like waking up

under six heaped blankets so deep I crawl out

of the mattress depression. The creep

of traffic and grumble of weather

is the Minnesota song. I feel the pinpricks

on my spine, the attention of every hair follicle

to tasteless air.

Holding on to morning in winter

with mittened hands, I like to greet

the day that steals

my breath.

Mary Wlodarski is a native of Minnesota, and a lover of nature and all things animal. She lives in Oak Grove with her husband, three horses, and miniature daschund. She is working on her MFA at Hamline University in Saint Paul while teaching high school English in Andover.

William Hoffman, Those Were The Days (T. S. Denison and Company, 1957); pages 26–27, 29–31.

(Image courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

Do you remember the blacksmith shop on Texas Street where the mighty smithy, Mr. Reznick, labored diligently with peddlers’ wagons and sturdy steeds? This was Texas Street: an impossible morass of mud after each rain. It was so bad that Chaim Greenstein (Peg Green’s brother) wrote to the old Daily News asking for airplane service from State Street to his home at 320 Texas. There were other neighbors who felt the same way: The Senenskys, Blumstiens, Chases, Macarofskys, Hirschorns, Hoffmans, Gransbergs, Dietzes, Rosenblums, Lynches, Zuckers, Skroopkas, and others I may have forgotten at the moment. But today, most of these families have left long since and Helen Gransberg Turner (“Hawtkeh”), with her own family, reigns as queen of a shrinking dominion.

To live on State Street, which was paved and had sewers and running water, was the Mecca and dream of my mother. It was not her own comfort she was concerned about, but rather that of her daughters. How would any eligible suitor in his right mind ever get down so far as the end of Texas Street to court her daughters? “Gott zu danken” (thank heaven), however, all was not lost, for the tennis courts were across the street on the Minnetonka playground, and my mother took advantage of the terrain to bait the trap.  Most of the “Castle Garden” dandies in their white slacks came down often to play tennis and my mother made full use of her homemade root beer to lure the unsuspecting. Who could resist the cold foaming drink? Finally, it was “Shloymie” Solomon who asked my sister Annie for her hand. What a potent brew that was, full of yeast and probably the forerunner of today’s atomic bomb. …

Harriet Island, known to us as “Bading House,” provided good swimming in the Mississippi River and the best picnic spot. There were cages with animals, slides, and sand boxes. For a hot shower or “vaneh” (bath) we went to the Wilder Public Baths for the weekly “Shabus” (Sabbath) clean-up—towel and soap for one penny. I would have written that even today one old patriarch makes the trip over the Robert Street bridge every Friday with a change of underwear bundled under his arm but now he is gone too.

Oh, that first delicatessen store, Levoonehs (Lebanon) on Fairfield. Do your nostrils quiver with the mixed, intriguing smells of herring, “shmookfleish,” Russian candies, halvah, and pickles? Can’t you see coming out from the back room, portly and genial, “Mr. Levooneh,” father of the Stacker boys and proprietor of the store? He also sold us our “chedar” writing tablets, “gragers” (noise makers) for Purim, and monkey nuts. And on one side on top of the glass counter were stacks of Jewish newspapers: Der Tag, Morgen Journal, and the Forvitz. …

Take hold of my hand and walk along with me. The day is clear, the sun bright, and there is a nostalgic zephyr which whispers softly of the promise along this winding path. This is the little world of our beloved West Side, and who can blame others who wish to claim it, too, for their own. We invite them also, and even those who are reluctant because for some reason or other, in the length and depth of their lives, have once wished to disclaim their childhood and the legacy of their parents.

Patrick Coleman is the Minnesota Historical Society acquisitions librarian. He was honored with the prestigious Kay Sexton Award at the twenty-first annual Minnesota Book Awards gala, serves on the board of Coffee House Press, and is a longtime member of the Ampersand Club and the Manuscript Society. He writes the 150 Best Minnesota Books Blog, highlighting books that are important to the intellectual life and identity of the state. Due to his work, the MHS library is one of the preeminent research libraries in the nation.

The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce the fourth in its 2011–2012 season of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams, which celebrate the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city.

The "Poetry & Comedy" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, February 13th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the eclectic series, presented by Alexander Wanna, features Marlene Moxness and Andrew Cahak.

RSVP on Facebook

About "Poetry & Comedy"

Alexander Wanna

For as long as I can remember, poetry and comedy have both shared a large chunk of my brain. In turns, I have occupied the majority of my waking hours with thoughts of stanzas and sestinas, of punch lines and premises — perhaps a fair explanation for my general solitude.What is surprising when I look back is how little these two art forms have come in contact with each other in my life. While both work in that particularly stressful conceit of seeming to require precision and scarcity of language, both are more than happy to allow rambling, trailing language to shine through. Both pay particular attention to rhythm and pattern, and require a dual line of thought toward content and vocal presentation when read aloud. (Other connections, such as the preponderous amount of practitioners of both arts who suffer from alcoholism, are probably coincidental. Probably.)

It is such a pleasure, then, for me to pull from both worlds for my Lowertown Reading Jam. In "Poetry and Comedy," we will be pulling from both the Twin Cities stand-up comedy and poetry scenes (with some crossover of the two) to hopefully gain a further understanding as to why we drop our brows to laugh, raise our noses to appreciate verse, whether or not we really do those things, whether I am simply in the business of building and tearing down straw men, and, I don't know, maybe we'll all get high-fives out of it.

About the Performers

Marlene Moxness

Alexander Wanna is a man about town in these here Twin Cities. He has been published in the University of Minnesota's Ivory Tower and the Saint Paul Almanac.Currently you can see him cutting up bread for you at a local grocery store. Less embarrassingly, you can see him performing stand-up all around the Twin Cities (he does not get paid for this). He lives in South Minneapolis.

Marlene Moxness is a writer, stand-up comic, and trivia hostess from Minneapolis. She earned her B.A. in English at the University of Minnesota. Her work has appeared in the Albion Review and numerous times in the Ivory Tower. Villanelles make her think of sinister mustaches.

Andrew Cahak

Andrew Cahak was born in central Wisconsin and lived in suburban Iowa. He went to college (full time) and had a job (full time) and wrote and made art (part time). In the present: Andrew Cahak lives in Minneapolis, works (full time), and continues to write, perform stand-up comedy, and make art (part time [unfortunately]). In the future: Andrew Cahak may live in different places. He hopes to have a job (part time, if necessary) and will continue to write and make art (full time, if possible).

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Location & Directions

The "Poetry & Comedy" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, February 13th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

This evening, Monday, January 9th, we are excited to present our first 2012 event, a Lowertown Reading Jam presented by writer, teacher, and performance poet Wendy Brown-Báez. The "Yours Truly" reading jam presents personal stories and collaborative poems, a reflection of what it means to be young, vibrant, determined, curious, and wise.

The "Yours Truly" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The next reading jam in our series takes place on February 13th, and is curated by Alexander Wanna.

From the Saint Paul Almanac's Saint Paul Calendar

On January 10th, there will be another monthly "Beaker & Brush" discussion between representatives of the local scientific and artistic communities. Through observing nature, scientists and artists can learn much that influences their research and art. From the aesthetically pleasing to sustainable design, join Janna Schneider and Curt McNamara for a discussion about Biomimicry as they explore the ingenuity inherent in nature, on January 10th at 6:30pm. Read More.

Ongoing, the Children's Museum presents Storyland: A Trip Through Childhood Favorites, which brings children and adults into the world of seven beloved picture books. From the gardens of The Tale of Peter Rabbit to the urban snowscape of The Snowy Day and the tropical island of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Storyland engages visitors in early literature adventures. In the exhibit's immersive environments designed for children from birth through eight years old, families discover that it is never too early to develop a love of reading. Read More.

A Prairie Home Companion returns to The Fitzgerald Theater for a run of six winter shows starting on Saturday, January 14th at 4:45 p.m. Join Garrison Keillor, and the whole Prairie Home gang for two hours of live radio fun. Ticket information.

For more listings of events in Saint Paul, MN, visit our calendar and get our listings directly in your calendar software (iCal format).

New writing from the Almanac

Gayla Ellis's story of her mother's work on the Radio Crew for the B-24 bomber plane known as the Liberator takes us back to the days of World War II in Saint Paul.

Michael Teffera's poem, Sunday Morning, tells a tale of cultural confusion. Michael is originally from Ethiopia and moved to Saint Paul in 2006.

Rich Broderick lives in Saint Paul and teaches journalism at Anoka-Ramsey Community College, and gives us In The Dead Of Winter.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

(Photo: Henry Jackson)

It was around 9:55 a.m. I was waiting for the library to open.

I saw a cute Ethiopian girl coming toward me. She had dark brown skin, short hair, and a pretty baby face.

“What time is it?” She asked me. Her English accent was very good.

“Five to ten,” I said.

“Oh, five minutes more,” she said, and she stood beside me.

“You know, you have a familiar face. By the way, what is your name?” I asked.

“My name is Queen,” she replied.

“My name is King,” I said with a smile.

“You are kidding! What is your real name?” she asked.

“My name is Michael, and my friends call me Micky. So where are you from, anyway?” I asked.

“Here,” she said.

“No, I mean not where you live, but where did you come from?” I asked.

“Does it really matter where I am from?”

“Sorry. Do you speak Amharic?” I asked her.

“What are you talking about?” she said in scorn.

Then I realized my thinking was wrong, She was African American.

“Oh, my mistake,” I said with broken sound.

“Excuse me, I want to go,” she said, and she went inside the library.

I followed her in slowly.

Michael Teffera is originally from Ethiopia and moved to Saint Paul on August 31, 2006. He graduated from Metro State University with a bachelor’s degree in accounting and is currently working at U.S. Bank as an accounting specialist. His hobbies include bike riding, writing short stories and poems, and watching movies.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

We speak of it
as though it were a place,
a battlefield strewn
with corpses,
a burial ground
of shattered statues
hooded with snow.
We picture something
grainy, gray-and-white,
crow-like figures
hunching inside capes,
frost working its claw
into the heart of trees.
In this zone we hear
an echo, a dread voice
that chills words to zero.
Over on the dark shore
branches snap like bones.
Scurrying across the ice,
we wait for the crack,
never looking down
into the depths, so close
but a lifetime away,
the final holding tank
of those we couldn’t
hope to save.

Rich Broderick lives in Saint Paul and teaches journalism at Anoka-Ramsey Community College. Rich is a writer, poet, and social activist.

Ione’s cousin, Elaine, and Ione, dressed in her work coveralls. (Photo courtesy Gayla Ellis)

Although I live in Minneapolis, I have a strong connection to Saint Paul. When I worked as a legal secretary in downtown Saint Paul, I could see across the Mississippi from my twenty-second-floor window to where my mother, Ione, worked in 1943 during World War II: Holman Field.

Born in Spicer, Minnesota, Ione moved to Minneapolis in her early twenties. During the war, she had a long commute from North Minneapolis to her job in Saint Paul: A bus took her to downtown Minneapolis, then a streetcar brought her to downtown Saint Paul, and a shuttle carried her across the Robert Street Bridge to the Northwest Airlines Modification Center, where she worked on a radio crew for the B-24 bomber plane known as the Liberator.

Designed by Consolidated Aircraft Company of San Diego, and mass produced by contractors like Ford Motor Company in Willow River, Michigan, over 18,000 Liberators were built from 1940 to 1945. The government contracted private companies like Northwest Airlines for final work. Ione’s crew added radios, communications, and lights, then routed and clamped cables. A petite and agile twenty-year-old, Ione did whatever job needed doing, including work in narrow spaces, like under the cockpit.

Production went on twenty-four hours a day, and each crew had to rotate shifts every two weeks (8 a.m.–4 p.m., 4 p.m.–midnight, midnight–8 a.m.). After work, she rode home on the shuttle, streetcar, and bus, often falling asleep on the last leg of her trip; the driver would wake her at her stop. A fellow worker acquired a car, and after that she rode with him, a great relief after months of public transportation. One night, she realized he had forgotten her. The plant gate was locked, she couldn’t return to the building, and she had missed the shuttle. Ione had to walk alone across the bridge in the dark to get downtown to catch the streetcar back, which was scary for her. That man didn’t forget again.

After Ione had worked almost a year, Northwest management discovered that she was four months pregnant and they took her off the crew. The only other work available to her was in administrative offices as a secretary, but she didn’t want clerical work; she was a competent mechanical laborer. She didn’t find another job until after my brother Bruce was born. She was hired at a clock factory to make cardboard boxes but soon proved her ability and moved into clock assembly.

Three million women had worked in the defense industry.

Three million women had worked in the defense industry. After the war, men replaced women in the workforce. It would be years before women would again be hired for those kinds of jobs.

When her husband returned from the war, Ione struggled with his abuse and alcoholism until she finally divorced him. She had witnessed the effects her father’s drinking had on her mother and family. After the war, she met Joe, a World War II veteran and a switchman on the Northern Pacific Railway. They married in 1948, raised Bruce, and had four children together, including me. Ione spent the next part of her life as a mother of five and a homemaker in Fridley.

Ione carries a certain pride from those days. She moved from small town to big city and also changed her life. She gained confidence in her ability to do skilled labor. She still learns as much as she can, reads avidly, and stays interested in new ideas and adventures. She was the family photographer, and recently we have been sorting and scanning her photos. New stories and old have emerged as we’ve gone through them, which brought forth these memories of Saint Paul. At eighty-eight, Ione continues to inspire me with her stories of survival during challenging times.

Ione standing by a Holman Field sign later in the day, after the above story was read by Gayla at a 2012 Saint Paul Almanac reading event at Jerabek's New Bohemian Cafe. (Photo courtesy Gayla Ellis)

Gayla Ellis—photographer, writer, editor, performer, and publisher—is a Minneapolis resident who was a legal secretary in downtown St. Paul for many years and prefers that city’s scene to downtown Minneapolis.

The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce its first 2012 event—the third in its 2011–2012 season of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams which celebrate the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city.

The "Yours Truly" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, January 9th, 2012 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the eclectic series, presented by Wendy Brown-Báez, features Mai Vang, Tyler Marie Arends, Angela Ken, Chaunesty Perkings, Michael Liljedahl, and English teacher Jennifer Plum.

About "Yours Truly"

Mai Vang, Tyler Marie Arends, Angela Ken, Chaunesty Perkings, and Michael Liljedahl

Language is one way we can explore the unknown, delve into our inner depths, articulate the stories that make us who we are, share our past and our memories, and affirm our hopes for the future. Someone once said, "Stories are the shortest bridge between two people." Using poems as guideposts, we launched into writing our own narratives that span between our contemporary technologically driven world and the beauty of poetic expression from poets of diverse backgrounds. We found places where we intersect, where we resonate, where we are uniquely individual, where we long to be heard.

Face to Face Academy is a charter school that enables students who have fallen behind in traditional settings to work toward graduation. Our after-school writing group wrote about home and dangerous neighborhoods, happy and struggling families, the joys and challenges of parenting, how to make the world a better place, sorrows and disappointments, our dreams and our blessings. "Yours Truly" presents our personal stories and collaborative poems, a reflection of what it means to be young, vibrant, determined, curious, and wise.

The "Yours Truly" Reading Jam sees the return of Saint Paul painter Ta-Coumba Aiken, our new-artist-in-residence. Ta-Coumba is the force behind some of Minnesota’s most beloved and acclaimed public artworks, including the Jax/Gillette Children’s Hospital mural, the Minneapolis Central Library’s tile fireplace, and the north side’s Pilot City murals project.

RSVP on Facebook

Introducing the performers

Wendy Brown-Báez

Wendy Brown-Báez is a writer, teacher, performance poet, and installation artist. She has published poetry and prose in numerous literary journals and is the author of Ceremonies of the Spirit (Plain View Press) and Transparencies of Light (Finishing Line Press). Wendy has performed from Minneapolis to Mexico in bars, cabarets, cafés, galleries, bookstores, and cultural centers. She is the creator of Writing Circles for Healing and received 2008 and 2009 McKnight grants to teach writing workshops, which is how she met the staff of Face to Face Academy and became the after-school writing instructor. The grant enabled the students to create an art installation featuring a spoken-word CD that was installed at the school, at Altered Esthetics Gallery, at Mid-town Global Market, and was a part of Night On the Street. The writing workshop at Face to Face helps her keep her finger on the pulse of what young people are thinking and their responses to the world. Their resiliency and honesty never cease to amaze her. www.wendybrownbaez.com

Tyler Marie Arends is a native of Saint Paul and a graduate of Face to Face. She hopes to go on to college and major in law or medicine. In her spare time she likes to sing, write, and spend time with family and friends. She joined the speech club because she likes to act. She believes that writing has helped her to cope with all her struggles in life.

Angela Ken is a native of Saint Paul and has four brothers. She anticipates graduating in 2014 from Face to Face. Her goal is to fix cars and be her own boss. She says, “In life when your car breaks down and there is no one to help, I want to know I can fix it myself. Everyone needs a car mechanic and I want to be able to help people. Everyone in life has complications.” Angela likes hip hop and R& B and says, “I like to listen to music to help sort out my thoughts. Writing is important to me so that I can learn more about my life and improve my future.”

Michael Liljedahl lives in Saint Paul and will have graduated from Face to Face in December. His interest in life is to study gemology and become a jeweler. He particularly enjoys hands-on activities as a way to learn. He volunteers with Second Harvest, as he likes to help those who have even less than he has.

Chaunesty Perkings intends to graduate in June 2012. She plans on going to college to study journalism and pre-law with the goal of attending law school. Being a lawyer is her main dream, since arguing and debating are her rush-giving passions. She says, “At the end of the day, you need people to fight for you and to win.” She spends her free time writing, dancing, drawing, and photographing.

Mai Vang grew up in a traditional Hmong family. Although her parents wanted a good education for her, when she got to high school, things started to crumble. She got pregnant at almost 17 and her relationship with the baby’s father fell apart as he became abusive. She took the steps to protect herself and her son, got a job, and went back to school. She says she doesn’t regret the past: “It all got me to where I’m at now.” She will graduate this December.

Jennifer Plum

Jennifer Plum has been teaching English at Face to Face Academy in Saint Paul for twelve years. She is a graduate of the University of Minnesota and was inspired to become a teacher by one of her own high school teachers. He introduced her to Kerouac and D. H. Lawrence. She read On the Road when she was sixteen years old and decided that the “mad ones” were the people for her! The Eastside school community changed her life. She developed a career in charter schools, met her husband, fell in love, got a promotion as the Academic Director, had a baby girl, and found her voice. Working with youth through literature and creative writing continues to reveal to her the secrets of the universe.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Get directions

The "Yours Truly" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, January 9th, 2012, from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

Thank you for sending in your writing, attending readings, and financially supporting us. It's because of you that we are thriving!

Kimberly Nightingale
Executive Director, Saint Paul Almanac

Diego Vázquez at a Community Editors meeting

Our deadline for submissions for the 2013 Almanac is December 15th, but if you come to our workshop, we'll give you another two weeks to mop your vowels, iron your nouns, and polish your prepositions—before submitting your finished work to the Almanac by December 31st.

The "conductor" of our "Almanac Train" (chuckle) is Diego Vázquez, who has been a visiting Writer in the Schools for many years. His novels include Growing Through the Ugly and Border Town with the UFO Sky (forthcoming).

Vázquez is regarded as the founder of Poetry Slam in Minnesota. As a community editor for the Saint Paul Almanac, Vázquez is constantly searching for new authors, young and old, to publish.

In 2008 he was selected as a Saint Paul Everyday Sidewalks poet. Vázquez is featured on the acclaimed Equilibrium/Loft CD, Nation of Immigrants.

Location & Directions

December 14th, 2011. 6-8pm. Free. RSVP on Facebook.
Room 208, Neighborhood House at Wellstone Center
179 Robie Street East, Saint Paul, MN 55107
Free attached parking ramp

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The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce the second of its 2011–2012 series of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams, celebrating the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city.

The "Nomadic Expressions" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, December 12th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. This presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Nimo Farah, features readings by Louis Alemayehu, Nahid Khan, Jake Virden, IBé, Marisa Carr, Abdifatah Farah Ali, Adrienne Maiers, and Hersi.

The "Nomadic Expressions" Lowertown Reading Jam is a symbolic night of refuge for artists converging from many different walks of life. We ask WHO ARE YOU? and the artists acquaint us with the incredible stories they carry. They are creative, courageous custodians of tradition. They are educators and organizers who help us reflect on the question WHO ARE WE?

"Nomadic Expressionists" are offshoots from diverse cultures whose inspiration comes from across the world, permeating generations and surviving struggles of varying proportions. With their audacity, Nomadic Expressionists take us on a journey through metaphors of native languages and stories from birth places, and share ideas tackling things essential to our shared world. Nomadic Expressionists challenge our minds to be smarter and our hearts to grow wider.

Thank you to our artist-in-residence Lara Hanson for her fine work at previous Almanac events, capturing the energy of the events in beautiful paintings! The "Nomadic Expressions" reading jam introduces St. Paul painter Ta-Coumba Aiken as our new-artist-in-residence. Ta-Coumba is the force behind some of Minnesota’s most beloved and acclaimed public artworks, including the Jax/Gillette Children’s Hospital mural, the Minneapolis Central Library’s tile fireplace, and the north side’s Pilot City murals project. Welcome Ta-Coumba!

RSVP on Facebook

Introducing the performers

Nimo Farah

Nimo H. Farah was a community editor for the 2012 Saint Paul Almanac and loves the stories written and shared by everyday people. She recently began writing and has had poems and a short story published in the Water~Stone Review literary journal and the Saint Paul Almanac. An aspiring storyteller, Farah has shared her words at previous Lowertown Reading Jams, at Equilibrium: Spoken Work at the Loft, and at the Late Nite Seriesat the Pillsbury House Theater.

Louis Alemayehu, a Minnesota poet, is a product of the Chicago Black Arts Movement. He became rooted in Minnesota to connect with his Anishinabe roots. Alemayehu is the director of the poetry-jazz ensemble Ancestor Energy and the winner of an Urban Griot Award in 2009. He is also a member of the Ethiopian literary organization, Finote-Tibeb.

Nahid Khan writes poetry and short stories when the inspiration strikes, and is a member of a writer's group for people with family roots in the Arab and Muslim worlds. She is a Ph.D. candidate majoring in mass communication at the School of Journalism and Mass Communication at the University of Minnesota, with graduate minors in religious studies and museum studies. Her research focuses on news coverage of American Muslims.

Jake Virden is a writer, performer, organizer, and aspiring educator. Performing in the Twin Cities as a poet and MC for six years has provided Jake the opportunity to share space with amazing people from all walks of life. Jake's passion is participating in popular education as a means of understanding the problems facing our communities and envisioning pathways toward people power.

IBé is an award-winning spoken word poet who enjoys writing prose as much as he likes writing poetry—all because he likes putting words to those things he finds so hard to say. He is not the only resident of The Middle of the Atlantic, but sometimes “it feels like it," he says.

Marisa Carr is a poet, performer, musician, and interdisciplinary artist. She grew up in Milwaukee, but lives in Minneapolis.

Abdifatah Farah Ali (Abdi Phenomenal) is a spoken word artist, teaching artist, actor, and community activist. He is a student at St. Cloud State University currently studying clinical psychology. Abdi is dedicated to impacting literacy and youth leadership through the art of spoken word to restore peace back in Somalia.

Adrienne Maiers is back living in Minneapolis after spending time earlier this year in Nigeria. She is currently collaborating with the Yonic Arts Collective; continuing her daily yoga practice; teaching kiddos dance, music, and health; and studying anatomy. She is a human being and a citizen of the world.

Hersi has served in the U.S. military for 4 years, traveled to 22 different countries, and learned to speak three different languages. He is a performance poet, mentor, and University of Minnesota student.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. Contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2013 Almanac have until December 15th, 2011, to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac's generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, and KFAI.

Get directions

The "Nomadic Expressions" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, December 12th, 2011, from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. RSVP on Facebook

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

Last year, more than 42,000 donors logged on to GiveMN.org and gave over $10 million to Minnesota charities in 24 hours during Give to the Max Day. Together, we have the power to raise millions of dollars for thousands of nonprofits. The Saint Paul Almanac, with GiveMN.org—a first-of-its-kind giving website for nonprofits in Minnesota—is working to create a stronger nonprofit community for Minnesota.

GiveMN.org's online giving platform allows you to easily find organizations that match your giving goals, support them through secure credit or debit card donations, receive automated tax deductible receipts through email, and conveniently track and record your donations in a single online location. You can now also fundraise for your favorite causes—like us!—on GiveMN by creating a fundraiser page.

Why give on November 16th?

In addition to GiveMN.org's 24 "Golden Tickets"—$1,000 prize grants given randomly every hour—one $10,000 "Grand Golden Ticket" will be randomly given at 11:59 p.m. on November 16, 2011.

Why give to the Saint Paul Almanac?

At the Saint Paul Almanac, we know we all do better when we know each other. Our goal is to use storytelling to help everyone in Saint Paul become friends and neighbors—one big block club of Saint Paulites who understand and support each other in good and difficult times.

Arcata Press organizes the Saint Paul Almanac as a people's meeting space for sharing the stories of our community through our annual book, public readings, a community editor mentorship program, and other activities that showcase and honor local, diverse voices and artists.

We publish work of nationally acclaimed local writers like Gordon Parks and Garrison Keillor alongside emerging writers' work and writing from new immigrant, student, elder, and other communities.

In our partnership with the Saint Paul Public Schools, 2,000 students receive Almanacs as part of their social studies curriculum, and we sponsor an annual student writing contest for grades 5–12 as well.

Our goal is to work mutually with St. Paul communities to support a diverse, connected, and engaged city of people centered around local literature and art.

On November 16th, join others on GiveMN.org and support the Saint Paul Almanac!

The Saint Paul Almanac is a people’s meeting space for sharing the life of our city—a literary campfire around which our vibrant community gathers to share a unique mixture of stories, history, events, and art. Come join our celebration of Saint Paul!

We are looking for untold stories of Saint Paul: the funny, the embarrassing, the reflective, the sad, and the sweet. Do you have a story to tell? The best stories often come from your own experience.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac included stories about telepathic monkeys at the Como golf course, visiting the Pig’s Eye Island city dump, how the Skyline Towers got the name "Titanic Tower," and observing wildlife on the West Side. Other typical contributions have included profiles of Saint Paul people and characters, memories of historical events, family recipes, and reviews and stories about venues, restaurants, and other places people love.

• Submitted stories and poems should be 600 words or less
• Submit writing by December 15, 2011
• There is payment for all accepted pieces

Your story or poem will be published alongside authors such as Garrison Keillor, Katrina Vandenberg, Carol Connolly, J. Otis Powell!, and Patricia Kirkpatrick.

A board of 21 community editors evaluate stories and edit them, and all decisions are made democratically. Everyone is strongly encouraged to write—the unpublished, the professional, and everyone in-between!

If you make your living by writing or if you just like telling a story now and again, we want to hear from you.

Visit our submissions page for more information.

Deborah Torraine

Deborah Torraine volunteered for the Saint Paul Almanac as a community editor; hosted two Lowertown Reading Jam events (see videos below); authored short stories for publication; and, in February 2011, took on a new role as Director of Community Engagement.

In June 2011, Deb tragically passed away, leaving behind bereaved friends and family, but also leaving behind a community very aware that they were blessed to know her and deeply grateful for her gifts to them.

In the comments section at the bottom of this page, please share your memories of our sister... Deb Torraine.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 23 from 6:30–8:30 p.m. (doors open at 6 p.m.) SteppingStone Theater, 55 Victoria Street North, St. Paul, MN 55104

Free event with dessert reception afterward, featuring performances by many local artists including:

• Ananya Dance Theater


• OBIE award winning actress Laurie Carlos


• Louis Alemayehu of Ancestor Energy


• Musician, songwriter Larry Long


• Excerpts from the writings of Deb Torraine

This colorful and entertaining mosaic of short stories, poetry, and spoken word set to music, dance and photography will reflect on the life and work of Deborah Torraine, writer, artist, playwright, educator and grassroots activist. Deb passed away suddenly on June 10, leaving a rich legacy of art and activism.

Deb Torraine was an award-winning short story author. Her most recent short story appeared in the 2010 Saint Paul Almanac. Among Deb’s body of work are two popular plays she wrote for Steppingstone Theater, The Black Snowman, based on the book by Phil Mendez and Ruby! The Story of Ruby Bridges. Ross Willits of Steppingstone Theater notes, “Deb and her work have touched the lives of countless children and families, and our community is richer for having her in it. Hers was a presence of strength and joy, and we will miss her terribly.”

Deb’s environmental and community activism was as integral to her life as was her art. Most recently Deb served as the community engagement coordinator for Saint Paul Almanac. Deb, herself an urban farmer growing culturally specific foods, was passionate about feeding people. She was a Board Officer for AfroEco, a collaborative of African American artists, scholars, professionals and advocates. She partnered with EJAM (Environmental Justice Advocates of MN) as a Wellstone Fellow to bring environmental education into an inner-city middle school.

Location of the Celebration

SteppingStone Theatre
55 Victoria Street North
St. Paul, MN 55104
www.steppingstonetheatre.org

Parking: Plenty of free parking in the William Mitchell College lot across the street south of the theatre. The lot is on the corner of Victoria and Summit with an entrance from Victoria. Ignore the “permit parking only” signs, as SteppingStone has arranged free parking for us during this event.

Donations will be accepted for the Deb Torraine Scholarship Fund for Young Adults

Drop by or mail a check to:
Associated Bank
RE: Deb Torraine Scholarship Fund for Young Adults
176 Snelling Avenue N
Saint Paul, MN  55104
More info: (651) 646-8681

For More Information

“Friends of Deb Torraine” open group page on Facebook
https://www.facebook.com/groups/234506926565843/ (Feel free to join for updates)

Our Sweet Potato Sister: Celebrating the Life of Deb Torraine
https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=110839505691199 (Facebook event page)

RSVP: At Facebook event page above or email Blake at wildokra@gmail.com — Questions? Call Blake at 612-382-3591.

So, then, the Duende is a force not a labour, a struggle not a thought. I heard an old maestro of the guitar say: ‘The duende is not in the throat: the duende surges up, inside, from the soles of the feet.’ Meaning, it’s not a question of skill, but of a style that’s truly alive: meaning, it’s in the veins: meaning, it’s of the most ancient culture of immediate creation." — García Lorca

Introduction by J. Otis Powell!

"I’ve been ruminating on duende for nearly a year pondering it's place in my cultural heritage and identity. Duende and the Sound of Soul is a way of inviting other artists into my exploration. A tall elegant griot advised, “let it hang like it’s got nowhere better to be. Push meaning to an upper register where falsetto is aspiration and reaching is creative process.” As a way of searching for duende in literature, I make words growl so the reader knows what it is to be fierce. I make them whisper softly, gently before they cry ugly and bare pain. True blues isn’t news but baritone notes from a tenor horn can move ancestors. Fire is needed more than light so orange lilies scream at the Sun; that’s duende. A flower is a lovesome thing when it screams because it carries dark stories from wounded souls. Artists learn craft so that we can be instruments for ghosts to sing through."

The Saint Paul Almanac is pleased to announce the first of its 2011–2012 series of acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams, celebrating the rich literary history of Minnesota’s capital city. The November 14th presentation of the eclectic series, curated by J. Otis Powell!, features readings by eight writers—Louis Alemayehu, e.g. bailey, Andrea Jenkins, Tom Kanthak, Leah Nelson, Alexs Pate, Katherine Pehrson and J. Otis Powell!.

The "Duende and the Sound of Soul" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, November 14th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul.

Introducing the performers

J. Otis Powell!

Writer, performance artist, mentor, curator, consultant, Open Space Technology facilitator and arts administrator. J. Otis was a founding producer of Write On Radio! while working at The Loft Literary Center. He has received the Loft Creative Nonfiction Award, Jerome Mid-Career Artist Grants, Jerome Travel and Study Grant and Intermedia Arts’ Interdisciplinary McKnight Fellowship. In 2009 the MN Spoken Word Association awarded Mr. Powell! their Urban Griot Innovator Award and inducted him into the MN Spoken Word Association’s Hall Of Fame. Powell! is also a founding curator for Bridges—a performance arts program with Pangea World Theater. His poetry, essays and articles have appeared in two books of his original work: Theology (Traffic Street Press) and My Tongue Has No Bone (Porter Publishing) and numerous anthologies, newspapers and magazines. His writing was included recently in: Barefoot In The Mountains, Views From The Loft and his work will be featured in an upcoming anthology of poems from Downstairs Press. As of this biography he was recording a new CD project titled BALM! with TruRuts/Speak Easy Records.

Alexs D. Pate

Alexs D. Pate's debut novel Losing Absalom received a Minnesota Book Award and was named Best First Novel by the Black Caucus of the American Library Association. Other novels include the New York Times best-seller Amistad: The Novel; Finding Makeba; The Multicultiboho Sideshow, winner of a 2000 Minnesota Book Award; and West of Rehoboth. His newest book In the Heart of the Beat: The Poetry of Rap was released in January of 2010 and received critical praise. Pate’s first memoir, The Past is Perfect: Memoir of a Father/Son Reunion (working title) will be published in 2011. The book is about the struggles of reconnecting with his estranged son and entering into the world of memoir writing. Pate is Assistant Professor of African-American and African Studies at the University of Minnesota.

Louis Alemayehu

Born in Chicago of African and Native heritage, Louis Alemayehu developed his poetic skills and musical sensibilities as a part of the Black Arts Movement in the 1970s. From 1973 to 1976 he lived in the middle of Chicago’s Black Arts Movement in a creative and activist community that included Haki Madhubuti, Gwendolyn Brooks, Carolyn Rodgers, Sonia Sanchez, Phil Koran and a cadre of men and women who constituted the legendary artists collective known as the Association for the Advancement of Creative Musicians, or the AACM.  Louis believes that poetry is a tool for healing; his performances, lyrical twinings of jazz, chant, poetry and song, are art-as-ritual, often performed ceremonially. He has performed for the past 30 years with his seminal poetry-jazz ensemble, Ancestor Energy, a band of master improvisational musicians and composers that has included Carei Thomas, David Wright, Donald Washington, Gary Schulte and Mick LaBriola.

e.g. bailey

Multidisciplinary artist e.g. bailey is an award winning spoken word artist, poet, theatre artist, filmmaker, and producer. He recently released his debut album, American Afrikan, which debuted on the CMJ Hip Hop Charts. Born in Saclepea, Liberia, he is a founder of several foundational entities in the local and national community including Tru Ruts Endeavors; Sirius B, male performance collective; Arkology, spoken word and music collective; the National Spoken Word Coalition, and more. e. g. is a winner of the Hughes Knight Diop Poetry Award and several of his poems have been published in Solid Ground, the millennial issue of Drumvoices Revue, and Warpland, a publication by the Gwendolyn Brooks Center for creative writing. He was a co-founder and co-producer of Write On Radio!, an award winning weekly literary radio program on KFAI Fresh Air Radio, where he is currently an on-air personality for the Tehuti (Divine Speech) spoken word and hip hop show on Sunday nights (www.kfai.org).

Andrea Jenkins

Andrea is an award-winning poet, writer and performance artist. Her work has appeared in several publications and she regularly performs throughout the Twin Cities and the United States and Canada. She was recently named a Bush Fellow in 2011 and won the Playwright's Center's Many Voices Fellowship. She also is a Verve Spoken Word Grant recipient and Pillsbury House Naked Stages grant winner. She was also in the Inaugural class of the Givens Foundation Black Writers Retreat studying with Amiri Baraka and J. Otis Powell! Andrea holds a MFA in Poetry from Hamline University.

Leah Nelson

Leah is a Zimbabwean dancer, choreographer, actor, producer and director with a passion for organizing for social change through the arts. She first came to the United States at age 17 when she was chosen to represent Zimbabwe at the International Choreographer's Workshop at the prestigious American Dance Festival, eventually graduating with a BFA from University of North Carolina School of the Arts.
She has performed and taught nationally and internationally in venues like Brooklyn Academy of Music, Zellerbach Theater (Brussels), PS122, Carleton Dance Festival, (Brazil); and the Zanzibar International Film Festival (East Africa). She was a 2002 Fellow of the Intermedia Arts Institute of Cultural Development, a recipient of a McKnight Fellowship for Dancers (2002) and a Bush Fellowship for Choreography (2004). She has consulted and produced programming for major performing venues like the Walker Art Center. In 2003 she curated Hip-Hop Moves: Heroes and Innovators; and in 2006 she was commissioned to create "Requiem for a Homegirl" for the Momentum series at the Southern Theater and co-produced Hip-Hop Hooray!—a Target First Free Saturday event that included various Hip-Hop elements. She is a co-founder of 'B-Girl Be: A Celebration of Women in Hip-Hop held at Intermedia Arts and Minnesota Spoken Word Association.

Introducing the musicians

Tom Kanthak

Tom has been involved with music for dance for over 30 years, as a composer, dance musician, choreographer, dancer and performer. He began his classical music training at the age of six with piano, and today plays a variety of instruments. He is also a trained modern dancer, having studied with Hanya Holm, Nancy Hauser, Claudia Gitelman, Alwin Nikolais, Murray Louis, and many others. Kanthak is on special assignment for Perpich Center for Arts Education in American Indian Aesthetics, Sensory Aesthetics, Indigenous Aesthetics, Dance Composition and Improvisation, Dance Musician and Composer. Tom received an MA from Ohio State University in Music Education; in 2006 he was in a Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund Teaching Program. In addition Mr. Kanthak was awarded a SURDNA Foundation teaching Fellowship to LaGuardia School for the Performing Arts in New York City by the Jerome Foundation.

Katherine Pehrson

Katherine Pehrson believes that the Renaissance never ended. An instrumentalist, vocalist, writer, student, actor, educator, commentator, conjurer of food, and real- live Mother. Kate’s scholastic background was grounded in the arts, history and education. She holds a B.A. from St. Olaf College, and an M.A.T. from the University of St. Thomas. Katherine’s training began in the Suzuki method, and continued with classical instruction in violin, piano, and voice. Her work includes two self-produced music albums and many collaborative efforts in live theater, film, screenplays, choral and orchestral works, poetry and spoken word performances and anthologies, and artist residencies in schools. She has collaborated with artist/poet mentor/friend J. Otis Powell! on numerous projects, including the upcoming CD release BALM! Katherine is currently musically influenced by Global and American roots music and is a lead vocalist and fiddle player in a local band. She lives in the suburbs with her husband and two daughters.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its sixth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. Available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

The 2012 Almanac features 129 stories and 180+ photos. These contributors include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2013 Almanac have until December 15th, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online (including S&H) at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available for $14.95 in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac generous partners and sponsors include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Saint Paul Foundation, Mardag Foundation, F.R. Bigelow, Minnesota Humanities Center, Traveler's Employee Arts and Diversity Committee, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet and KFAI.

The “Duende and the Sound of Soul” Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, November 14th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul.

Get directions

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

Thursday Sept. 22, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Ginkgo Coffeehouse
721 Snelling Ave. N.
651.645.2647
www.ginkgocoffee.com

Thursday Sept. 29, 2011 — 6:30 p.m

Fresh Grounds
1362 Seventh St. W.
651.224.2348
www.freshgroundscoffee.com

Saturday Oct. 1, 2011 — 1:00 p.m.

Polly’s Coffee Cove
1382 Payne Ave.
651.771.5531

Thursday Oct. 6, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Cahoots Coffee Bar
1562 Selby Ave.
Saint Paul, MN 55104
651.644-6778

Thursday Oct. 13, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Common Good Books      
165 Western Ave. N.
651.225.8989
www.commongoodbooks.com

Saturday Oct. 15, 2011 — 12:00 p.m.

Grumpy Steve’s Coffee
215 Wabasha St. S.
651.224.1191
www.wabashastreetcaves.com

Wednesday Oct. 19, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Mad Hatter Coffee Cafe and Teahouse
945 Seventh St. W.
651.227.2511

Thursday, Oct 20, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Golden Thyme Coffee Cafe
921 Selby Ave.
651.645.1340

Thursday Nov. 3, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

The EDGE Coffee House
2399 University Ave. West
651.641.1656

Saturday Nov. 5, 2011 — 1:00 p.m. 


Jerabek’s New Bohemian Coffeehouse and Bakery
63 Winifred St. West
651.228.1245
www.jerabeks.com

Thursday Nov. 10, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Amore Coffee
879 Smith Ave. S.
651.330.0570
www.amorecoffee.com

Thursday Nov 17, 2011 — 7:00 p.m.

Claddagh Coffee
459 7th St. W.
651.600.3400
 

2012 Saint Paul Almanac Fundraiser

Thursday, Sept. 8, 6:30-8 p.m., AZ Gallery, 308 Prince Street, Lowertown.
Readers: Poet Laureate Carol Connolly, Nimo Farah, Kofi Bobby Hickman and Patrick Coleman. Free book, hors d'oeuvres, wine. Help build our literary campfire! Suggested contributions: Match $50, Log $100, Flame $250, Smore $500. RSVP via Facebook.

2012 Saint Paul Almanac Release Party

Thursday, Sept. 15, 7 p.m. at Black Dog Cafe, Clouds in Water Zen Center, and AZ Gallery, 308 Prince Street, Lowertown. Free.
Readers: Poet Laureate Carol Connolly, Kofi Bobby Hickman, Patrick Coleman with Molly Culligan, Michael Teffera, Saymoukda Vongsa, Sharon M. Day, and Louis Alemayehu. RSVP via Facebook.

Learn more about the 2012 Almanac

• 2012 edition of Saint Paul Almanac to launch in September (August 3rd, 2011)

Download the poster

http://saintpaulalmanac.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/08/2012-launch-eventsposter-v3.jpg

Map & Directions

Get Directions →

Get directions from (your address):

Cover of the 2012 Saint Paul Almanac, a detail from "Lowertown Saint Paul" by Tammy Ortegon.

This year, the 416-page, 180+ photo 2012 Saint Paul Almanac is available in full color for the first time and—another first—includes gorgeous, hand-drawn, poster-size, pull-out maps of the City of Saint Paul and Downtown!

Our unparalleled Saint Paul City Guide offers up-to-date listings for Art Galleries, Bookstores, Museums, Libraries, Historical Sites and Tours, Parks and Nature Reserves, Bars and Restaurants, Coffee Houses and Tea Shops, Deli Grocers and Food Co-ops, and Music, Dance, Theater and Performing Arts venues.

Detail from Roberta Avidor's hand-drawn map of Downtown Saint Paul.

Sample datebook page

The Saint Paul Almanac is a literary campfire around which the diverse Saint Paul community gathers to share their stories. An experiment in democratic publishing, the 2012 Almanac brought together a multigenerational team of 18 volunteer community editors to blind select from 400 submissions the 129 stories, poems, and recipes chosen to appear in the coming edition.

Every story has a unique, individual voice which, when combined with other stories in the Saint Paul Almanac, becomes a chorus encompassing all the energy of Saint Paul today. High school students’ work appears alongside writing by grandparents, and first-time writers appear next to Saint Paul literary greats such as Garrison Keillor and Max Shulman.

Sample story page from the 2012 Almanac.

The 2012 Almanac also features poems by Martin Devaney, Katrina Vandenburg, J. Otis Powell!, Garrison Keillor, Phebe Hanson, Saymoukda Vongsay, Jim Moore, David Vu, Chia Lor, Sharon M. Day, Patricia Kirkpatrick, Carol Connolly, Ethna McKiernan, John Minczeski, Elena Cisneros, Jill Breckenridge, Diego Vázquez, Greg Watson, Mary Kay Rummel, Patricia Cummings, Evelyn Klein, Linda Back McKay—and more!

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac is a reliable companion for the endless exploration of new delights in our beautiful city, and a wonderful gift—packed full of thoughtfulness that will keep on counting all through the year!

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $17.95 online at saintpaulalmanac.org (including S&H) and will be available in independent and mainstream bookstores—including Common Good Books, Barnes and Noble, and Amazon.com—after September 10, 2011 for $14.95.

The 2012 Saint Paul Almanac team

A Saint Paul Almanac community editors meeting at the Black Dog cafe in Lowertown, St. Paul

Saint Paul Almanac publisher, Kimberly Nightingale. (Photo: Bill Kelley)

Book details

416 pages, 5 3/16 x 8 inches, 180+ photos, full color, two-sided 18.75 x 15-inch color map. ISBN: 978-0-9772651-8-3. $14.95.

Saint Paul Almanac is a subsidiary of Arcata Press, a nonprofit publisher.

Contact

Kimberly Nightingale, Publisher
Saint Paul Almanac
275 East Fourth St., Suite 735
Saint Paul, MN 55101
www.saintpaulalmanac.org
kimberly@saintpaulalmanac.org

###

Q. When is a Jam a Slam?

A. When it’s the first ever Poetry/Story Slam with prizes from the Saint Paul Almanac and the last Lowertown Reading Jam of the second year of the series.

Diego Vázquez Jr., the founder of SlamMN

Open to the first 15 slammers to sign up at the door (sign-up sheet opens at 7:00 p.m.). First Prize $150; Second Prize $75; Third Prize $50; and of course – all slammers receive applause and recognition! Five judges will be randomly selected from the audience.

Diego Vázquez Jr., slam-master and founder of the first and longest running Poetry Slam in Minnesota, will host a slam for the first time in more than ten years. It all started at Kieran’s Irish Pub back in 1995, and eventually, Diego led two Minnesota poetry slam teams to compete at the National Poetry Slam. In 1998 the team, comprising poets Loren Niemi, Bao Phi, Patrick McKinnon, Kate Peterson, and Diego Vázquez, competed in Austin, Texas. The following year they competed in Chicago, IL. Vazquez left the poetry slam scene in 2000 after securing Minneapolis as the site for the 2002 National Poetry Slam. He has been a visiting Writer in the Schools for many years. His novels include Growing through the Ugly and Border Town Sky. A community editor for the Saint Paul Almanac since 2008, he is constantly searching for new stories to publish. He is proud to have his poetry permanently cemented into the pavement as part of Saint Paul’s Everyday Poems for City Sidewalk.

A Slam for the Almanac of it…

Deborah Torraine

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009 to excited audiences who spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted.

The entire 2010–2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams has been presented at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. This year the Jams have been curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change: Deborah Torraine, Tish Jones, Matthew Rucker, May Lee-Yang, Tou SaiKo Lee, Carol Connolly, Marcie Rendon, Desdamona, Melvin Giles, and Diego Vázquez, Jr.


About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, The Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

Deborah Torraine

It is with tremendous sadness that we inform you that Deborah Torraine died last Friday night at United Hospital during emergency heart surgery.

Deborah had volunteered for the Saint Paul Almanac as a community editor, hosted reading events, authored short stories for publication and, in February 2011, took on a new role as Director of Community Engagement.

The graduate of University of California Santa Cruz had received training via the Wellstone Fellowship for Social Justice and did graduate coursework at Metropolitan State University in Developing Community. Deborah's work as a community liaison, prior to joining the Almanac, provided her with diverse professional affiliations that included organizations like Aurora/St. Anthony Neighborhood Development Corporation, Environmental Justice Advocates of Minnesota, AfroEco, the arts community and the Somali and Southeast Asian communities.

Deborah was a writer, artist, and grassroots activist who supported so many important causes connected to the land, art, culture, and a good quality of life for all people. She often called herself a "cultural worker" and described the role as "working together in community to get important work done."

We are going to dedicate this Monday's Lowertown Reading Jam at 7 p.m. at the Black Dog Cafe to Deborah Torraine.

Deborah was very loved and will be dearly missed. She was an incredible force for good in the world.

The Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), featured Deborah Torraine in an April 2011 profile:

The Crowne Plaza Hotel at 11 East Kellogg Boulevard in downtown Saint Paul. (Photo: Dan Tilsnen)

Vera’s death was just last December, and I am missing her on this May evening, as our forty-third anniversary approaches. I need time and space by myself, to think. A view of the Mississippi River twisting and turning sharply, as I am right now, would set the tone. A drink and something good to eat would be nice—a martini, a very good steak, a favorite after-dinner drink.

The car almost drives itself across the Wabasha Bridge to the Crowne Plaza Hotel, where Vera and I often sat together at the Carousel Restaurant on the top floor, chatting like magpies, holding hands, teasingly rubbing knees under the table. She loved the twenty-two-story ride in the glassed-in elevator to the top, which I take tonight, to dine alone there for the first time in years.

From my lofty perch, I see empty barges riding high toward Minneapolis, full ones coming back, hunkered down in the water by their loads of grain. At sunset, city lights flicker on and wink flirtatiously, enticing people to come out and have fun—wherever their spirits take them.

I’m missing my partner tonight, but as I gaze down at the constant river, I realize that the feeling is different than it used to be. It’s not the desperate lonely of before; it is a tranquil lonely, a contented lonely, as if I am ready to accept that Vera is gone.

I finish a Drambuie, spellbound by the High Bridge, watching white headlights of cars coming across, red taillights going. A peace settles over me like the warm, comforting embrace of my childhood patchwork quilt. I am alone, but it’s okay. Tonight, I, too, am crossing a bridge, on a sometimes-bumpy road to my new life.

W. F. (Bill) Cento is either a glutton for punishment or a very slow learner. He came from a nice warm place in the South to a place where his automobile battery froze at least fifteen times during his first winter here in 1963. AAA threatened to revoke his membership. That should have been hint enough, but he’s still here nearly fifty years later.

(Photo: Juan Tello/Flickr Creative Commons)

A Little Brown Bird
Just landed on my windowsill.
Thought about coming in.
Bent her head, looked around. Looked
at my string of paper butterflies,
looked at me, then out
at the tree, flew to a branch.
Made the branch dance.
The leaves went crazy.
My heart did too.
A little brown bird.
Did all that.

Julia Klatt Singer writes poetry and short stories, and is a coauthor of Twelve Branches: Stories from St. Paul (Coffee House Press). She works as a visiting writer in the schools through COMPAS, and hasn’t found a river yet that she doesn’t want to cross.

Bird photo courtesy of Juan Tello. Browse Juan's photostream on Flickr.

(Photo: Rosa Say/Flickr Creative Commons)

On a warm afternoon in late May, a long yellow Saint Paul school bus huffs and puffs down the street, full of noisy kids on their way home from school—kids full of high spirits because it’s warm again and summer is approaching fast; high spirits because soon school will be out.

I am six years old, scrawny and loud-mouthed, almost seven. I have one friend on the bus and his name is Andrew McKinley: McKinley like the president, McKinley like the mountain. He’s a best friend, one who shares his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich with me at lunchtime—we have an unbreakable bond. We enjoy the bus ride home together, talking about cartoons and superheroes.

They say every school has a bully. I don’t know if that’s true, but our school has a bully. A big, mean kid with a bowl cut and a scar running down his cheek. He rides my bus to and from school every day. Every day, the loud voice of the backseat tyrant is heard over all the others. Laughter is silenced with a flick of his wrist. His name is Joe. No last name, just Joe.

On this warm afternoon in late May, Joe is picking on Andrew, calling him names, slapping him with the sharp metal edge of a ruler (a particularly nasty and popular weapon of bullies), pulling his hair. I say, “Cut it out,” and the bully’s eyes turn to me. I know those eyes. Cold, dead eyes. I’ve had trouble with him before, and I’ve seen those eyes turn black like a shark’s—like a shark going in for the kill. No words are spoken.

Joe tackles me, beating my small stomach and fragile rib cage. My head pounds repeatedly against the bus window behind me. My nose is bleeding and I’m crying, unable to hold it back. I’m six years old. I’m scrawny. I have a big mouth.

My cheeks are red and my head is throbbing. The bus doesn’t seem so loud anymore. The curious and eager faces of the other children watch from their seats, standing to get a better look. Pity on some of the faces, shock on others. Relief on most, as they are happy it isn’t them underneath the furious fists of Joe. The beating stops suddenly, and Joe is again at the back of the bus, sitting on his throne, in his rightful place. Children move out of the way for him, and I start to wish I had done the same. The children respect him, and I wonder why I don’t. He leaves me defeated, vanquished, finished. Bleeding at the front of the bus.

Andrew looks out the window. He watches trees and houses roll by. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t even blink. My best friend. He ignores me. He respects Joe. He isn’t President McKinley. He isn’t Mount McKinley anymore.

I’m still crying as I step off the bus at my stop, and the bastard bus driver hasn’t even noticed. He smiles and waves and tells me, “See you tomorrow.”

Andrew doesn’t look at me as the bus pulls away.

I run all the way home, bursting into the kitchen, out of breath, with red cheeks and wet eyes. The Ninja Turtles backpack slides off my hunched shoulders, and I let it hit the ground.

I feel safe in my mother’s kitchen, surrounded by shelves of tie-dye Tupperware and secondhand china; the smells of hot soup, baked bread, and scrambled eggs; the smell of sweets hidden on the top shelf. Here, my mother is queen. Here, where I sit every day after school and enjoy a snack, I nurse my bloody nose, I catch my breath, I wipe my tears.

I’m no longer crying as my mother comes into the kitchen to ask how my day was. I’m not crying, but she can tell something is wrong. She asks, “What happened? What happened to your face?”

I shake my head. I don’t answer.

I get a hug and a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. This bond is unbreakable. My mother is an angel, a Power Ranger, a superhero who knows how to make me a sandwich and who always has a cold glass of milk to wash it down. I am untouchable here in the kitchen, far from the school-bus tyrant, far from Joe.

Sitting in the warm kitchen with my mother and the familiar sights and smells, safe and happy, this is a feeling I won’t forget through the many years to come, through the many Joes and Andrews I will meet.

I see Andrew the next morning on the school bus. He gives me a Capri-Sun and a Fruit Roll-Up and we make peace. Best friends again. And then I say, “Hey, Andrew. My mom’s cooler than you.” The cool morning in late May feels calm. I can hear Joe in the back. I can hear the laughter and yells of all the other kids, excited because it’s almost summer vacation, excited because soon school will be out. And I’m excited too.

Years later, as my mother lies on a sterilized white bed in a hospital room that smells like medication and chloroform, I think about that day. The large, monstrous hospital that looms, intimidating, casting long shadows over the streets, has swallowed me whole, and I have a lot of time to think.

The warm afternoon in late May is shut out from this hospital room with its plastic flowers, strange smells, and no excitement. No excitement because it’s almost summer—no excitement, because she’s been in that bed for over three months, surrounded by strange machines that beep beep when something goes wrong.
It’s 2004. I’m not six years old anymore, I’m sixteen, almost seventeen.

Every day I come to the hospital, and the doctors offer no good news. You’d think they didn’t care. They don’t even seem to notice. They say they’ll talk to me soon. They say the same thing as I leave, running home.

My mother no longer reigns in the kitchen. No more peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches when I come home from school. Now it’s my turn to take care of her, although there is no way I can succeed. I am no angel. I am no Power Ranger.

I think about that day, and the bully Joe. My mom is being bullied now, by Leukemia—no last name, just Leukemia.

I say, “Cut it out.” But the bully ignores me. I am no superhero.

I think about that day, and I remember the loud-mouthed first-grader who thought he could stand up for his friend. I think about the loud-mouthed six-year-old that ran home to the safety of the kitchen. I think about the queen of the kitchen, the superhero who makes sandwiches and makes the world okay. I think about the Tupperware and the china and those comforting smells.

I think about today, and I wish I had the strength of a thousand Joes. I wish President McKinley would bring me a Fruit Roll-Up and a juice box. I wish I had the strength of a million peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches. I wish my mother could run back to the kitchen where a hug and a snack will make everything okay.

Adrian Schramm is a German-speaking English major who has been writing and illustrating since the day his mother handed him his first crayon. He also spends his free time reading, cooking, and indulging in his true love: cinema. Recently graduated from Hamline University, Adrian is now on the hunt for fame and fortune, or whatever the economy allows.

Photo of school bus courtesy Rosa Say. For more photos by Rosa, browse her Photostream on Flickr.

Tiffany’s mother Sy's garden in 2010 (Photo: Tiffany Lee)

The backyard of this house was a bit narrow and long and even had a little hill that led to a small woodsy area. Almost every day from spring until early fall, my mother came home to her garden ready to care for it. She threw on her black short-sleeved shirt, navy blue shorts, size five black Old Navy sandals, and a pair of yellow rubber gloves. She grabbed her square small chair decorated with lines crossing one another—showing the scratch marks and rust that have come along with it for the past years—and placed it in front of her garden, which was guarded by a two-inch-tall plastic wall to keep the soil from rolling away.

Her crops began on the right side of the yard. Tomato vines—the fruit gradually turning from yellow green to a firm, ripe, and bright red—weaved through the latticework of tall branches and sticks that my mother set to keep the vines from tangling on the ground. Next to the tomatoes grew beautifully bundled vibrant green onions and cilantro, then tall rows of lemongrass behind the cilantro. The greens included bok choy and cabbage heads, chicken herbs, and fish herbs for boiling.

My mother stood in front of each section for a couple of minutes to water it. I always noticed the satisfied look that it left on her face. The bright beaming sun sent its heat onto the vegetables, which led to them needing more water. My mother always stood there patiently; it was her way of meditating in complete relaxation after a long day of work. From the beginning of planting her garden, she had already chosen what she wanted to grow. She knew what vegetables we liked to eat, so I didn’t have to make any requests. Sometimes she grew vegetables we weren’t familiar with, but we were always willing to try something new. “It’s always nice,” she said, “to have new varieties of vegetables.”

We never complained; we did not need to depend on the flea market. But as winter approached, the garden suffocated under a heavy coat of snow. Later that year, we left the house on Germain and continued our lives in a new one. She again made a garden, planted her vegetables, let winter come to lay its coat on it, moved again, and continued. Her garden was our “home”—every time we moved, the one thing that never changed was the garden; it was always there in our backyard, guarded by a two-inch tall plastic wall to keep the soil from rolling away. She always told me to remember that having a garden “isn’t for your pleasure. It’s to make sure that your family will be able to have vegetables to eat with your meat so that it doesn’t taste so plain. So invest in your garden for as long as you can. It also saves you a lot of money!”

Tiffany Lee is a sixteen-year-old student at Como Park Senior High School. She enjoys reading and writing when she can. Watching TV is part of her daily routine. She likes to try new things.

Gordon Parks (Photo: Rose Sprott)

Gordon Parks was an acclaimed artist who confronted poverty and racism with such creative grace that he became an internationally admired cultural icon long before his death in 2006 at age ninety-three. An accomplished photographer, writer, composer, musician, and film producer and director, Parks was born in Fort Scott, Kansas, in 1912, and later moved to Saint Paul, where he spent his formative years. His memoir, A Choice of Weapons, which describes his experiences from 1928 through 1944, was first published in 1966 and reissued in 1986 and 2010 by the Minnesota Historical Society Press.

In the excerpt that follows, Parks brings an outsider’s perspective to the experience of being African American in Minnesota. He is seventeen years old and living in Saint Paul’s Rondo neighborhood.
...

Neither were these new friends as militant as we back there had been [Fort Scott, KS]. The lack of racial conflict here made the difference. Minnesota Negroes were given more, so they had less to fight for. Negro and white boys fought now and then in the Twin Cities, but the fights never amounted to much. Some Negro boys dated white girls without any major outcry. . . . One night a white man approached a group of us at the corner of Dale and Rondo, our favorite hangout. He quietly asked us where he might find a nice-looking colored girl.

We all looked at each other solemnly for a few seconds, then Leroy Lazenberry, a tall, bespectacled boy, shook his head regretfully. “Well, sir,” he said with disappointment in his voice, “we’re terribly sorry, but we just don’t know where to find you any colored girls”—a long regretful pause and more shaking of the head.

“But I tell you,” he went on, his face brightening up (the man suddenly more hopeful), “we know where we can get you several nice-looking white girls—without any trouble.” The man flushed and took off hurriedly without another word. And we, our insides nearly bursting, could hardly wait until he was gone before breaking into laughter.

We weren’t subtle with restaurants that used to burn our hamburgers, over-salt them and serve our drinks in unwashed glasses. The White Castle chain was probably the most notorious for this; but after ten of us dumped our sandwiches on the floor one night and doused them with water, the practice stopped, at least at that restaurant.

There were exceptions, but Minnesota Negroes seemed apathetic about the lynching, burning and murdering of black people in the South. The tragedy taking place down there might just as well have been on another planet. And they didn’t press vigorously for rights in their own communities.
...
One Negro newspaper existed, the Minneapolis Spokesman–St. Paul Recorder. It had a small voice and a small Negro circulation. Its publisher, Cecil Newman, was as militant as the climate would allow—but the climate wasn’t allowing much. My young friends didn’t talk about these conditions very often. They seemed at times content with their lot. Or perhaps they were just awaiting the right voice or situation to jolt them into action. Even I, who only a few months before had faced starvation, had all but forgotten the frightful winter. Contentment was the word now, in the pleasant summer of 1929.

June burned into July. And July burned into August. By September I had saved a little money, received a two-dollar raise and fallen deeper in love; and on the ninth day of that same month I enrolled at Central High School. Working evenings and weekends at the club . . .

On the fifteenth of October, I asked Sally if she would marry me. She only blushed, laughed and explained, “Why . . . I must finish high school before thinking about such things.” I felt a little crushed; but she hadn’t refused outright. Furthermore, common sense warned me to finish high school too, before taking on a wife. I opened a savings account, anticipating the day, a year later, when we both would graduate.

—Gordon Parks, A Choice of Weapons, (HarperCollins, 1966) 52–54

Gordon Parks (1912–2006) was a photographer, filmmaker, writer, and poet who blazed an incredible path of artistic brilliance. He was born in Kansas and moved to Saint Paul at fifteen years old. After working as a porter, against all odds he made a name for himself as a fashion photographer in Saint Paul and  later became a photographer and reporter for Life magazine, famous for his gritty photo essays about the grinding effects of poverty in the U.S. and abroad. He wrote several books, poetry, and screenplays. He wrote and directed The Learning Tree (1969) and Shaft (1971). His work won numerous awards.

Anura Si-Asar was born and raised in the historic Rondo community of Saint Paul. He is the copublisher of Papyrus Publishing Inc. with his wife, Rekhet. He coordinates the Imhotep Science Initiatives, an African youth development program at the Cultural Wellness Center. Anura is also a firefighter for the City of Minneapolis.

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. On Monday, June 13, the Jam will be hosted and curated by urban farmer and peace activist, Melvin Giles. Centered around themes of gardening, feeding the hungry, peace and social justice, the evening, entitled “Sowing the Seeds of Peace,” will feature readings and spoken word performances by several community members from throughout the Twin Cities.

This Reading Jam is dedicated to the memory of the Almanac's Director of Community Engagement, Deborah Torraine, who passed away on the night of June 10th.

This penultimate Reading Jam of the 2010-2011 season takes place from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Café, 308 Prince Street, located across the street from the Saint Paul Farmer’s Market. The evening includes solo presentations by a cast of gifted and talented multi-cultural artists including (but not limited to):

Melvin Giles

ANDY DRISCOLL - A broadcast media journalist, content producer, writer/commentator and political and communications consultant, Driscoll produces and co-hosts TruthToTell, a weekly public affairs discussion program on KFAI Radio, Minneapolis-St. Paul, and periodically on local television and online video journalism sites. He appears, too, as co-host/engineer for KFAI’s American Indian public affairs program, First Person Radio.

NINA RASMUNSEN - Nina Rasmunsen has been writing and performing spoken word for two years. Her work focuses on issues of social justice, politics and self-reflection. Greatly indebted to the many mentors who have taken the time to challenge her and help foster her development, she is also forever thankful to her mother who has taught her what true love, passion and wisdom look like in the fight for racial and gender equality.

MUSTAFA AHMEDU SUNDIATA – A chef and baker for 25 years, Mustafa Ahmedu Sundiata, is also a food justice activist. For six years he has managed NorthPoint Health and Wellness Center’s Community Food Shelf, in the heart of North Minneapolis’ food desert. As the coordinator of the North Side Healthy Eating Project – a North side community collaborative of 25-30 partners he advises with Homegrown Minneapolis as they try to establish Minneapolis’s first Food Policy council. He believes that there is enough of everything for everybody and has a great passion for food and an even greater passion for getting food to those who do not have access to it.

Additional artists are in the works for “Sowing the Seeds of Peace” – please visit the Saint Paul Almanac’s website at www.saintpaulalmanac.org for updates and more information as the event date approaches.

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009 to excited audiences who spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted.

The entire 2010-2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams has been presented at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 14, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr. SEASON FINALE!


About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

Melvin Giles

Although the Saint Paul Almanac publishes only yearly, the organization stays active between issues by maintaining its interactive website and putting together cool events, like the Lowertown Reading Jams. Each month, the happening is hosted by a different author of note, who is joined by other up-and-coming artists.... Authors scheduled in coming months include Melvin Giles (June 13) and Diego Vázquez Jr. (July 11).

We'll be publishing more information about the coming Melvin Giles reading jam later this week. Watch this space!

Things To Do Outside: See the city from a fresh perspective!

(Photo: Sharyn Morrow/Flickr Creative Commons)

Things To Do Outside: Free "Music in the Parks" series

The summer-long series features more than 100 performances by local musicians hosted in Parks throughout the City, including a new noon-time concert feature that boasts a series of performances at Raspberry Island. All the music performances are free, and a variety of genres are featured throughout the summer including; orchestra, blues/jazz, 50’s doo-wop and popular music.

May 2011 "Music in the Parks" Calendar

All May shows listed above take place at the Como Lakeside Pavilion, apart from the May 31st show at Mears Park

Find Como Lakeside Pavilion on Google Maps.

For more information about Music in the Parks, including the full May-September Schedule, see http://www.stpaul.gov/index.aspx?NID=1357

Brand New Exhibit: "Underwear: A Brief History"

Munsingwear Vintage Advertising

See the kinds of underpinnings worn by generations past, from Victorian flappers to 1970s modsters. The Minnesota Historical Society holds in its collection the business records, including product samples, of Munsingwear, Inc. View items from the collection including photos, advertisements and clothing like the union suit, women's undergarments made by Vassarette, and men's briefs with the "kangaroo pouch."

Ongoing to Sept. 11, 2011. For more information, visit www.minnesotahistorycenter.org

Last Chance Exhibit: Last month of spectacular woodturning pieces

Jim Christiansen's "Seeing...Feelingly"

"There is nothing more sincere and authentic than the curious roadside monuments people erect to commemorate the death of a loved one... Plastic flowers, a partially burned candle in a broken whiskey bottle, a teddy bear with one arm torn off and perhaps an illegible photograph wrapped in a torn baggie, come together, as a sacred monument. Replacing marble and bronze, the bric-a-brac of the modern world can represent our most sacred and profound feelings. As in the highway memorials, the objects represented by the images in this work become a means to access and experience the flow of my own life with some feeling and understanding." — Jim Christiansen

The exhibit in the Landmark Center's Gallery of Wood Art is sponsored by the
American Association of Woodturners, who note "The artists in this international invitational exhibit are professionals, most with work in respected museum and private collections. Their work is rooted by their connection to their medium; woodturning at this level requires deep practical knowledge of tools, techniques and an amazing diversity of woods, as well as artistic talent and dedication to the creative process."

Through June 19th. For more information, visit www.galleryofwoodart.org

Our events calendar is stocked full of ideas of things to do every day:

http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

Mississippi riverboat and ticket photo courtesy Sharyn Morrow. Browse Sharyn's photostream on Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/sharynmorrow/

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Desdamona

Desdamona is an international award-winning artist who has taken her distinctive lyrics, sound, and artistic stylings to audiences from Minnesota to Hawaii, from Puerto Rico to Germany, gracing some of hip-hop and poetry’s most illustrious stages.

Rainy Downtown Saint Paul as seen from across Kellogg Bridge. (Photo: Punchup/Flickr Creative Commons)

It is fall. The wind starts up, and I am glad I wore my sweatshirt and rain poncho. The rain starts coming down harder now, and my patrol flag flaps madly as if trying to escape my grasp.

There don’t seem to be kids coming. I’m glad. I must look like a giant pumpkin, with my orange patrol poncho fanning out in a wide circle around me.

As the wind tugs on my umbrella harder, I decide to close it up and put it in my backpack. I huddle against the tree as I watch for the rest of the patrols to come so we can head in for school. But I don’t see the familiar bright orange contrast in the bleak gray that hovers around like a blanket.

I sit down this time, grateful for the huge poncho so my pants don’t get wet from the cold ground. I huddle down and wait for the shouts that signal that the other patrols are rounding the corner.

Unfortunately, we still have to patrol in this weather. Only if there is lightning do we head in, but, nope, no thunder and no lightning. Finally I see them, I laugh softly; we must all look like giant pumpkins. I run over to my friends, and we talk as we head in, and in the end I’m wet, I’m cold, but I’m happy to be here in Saint Paul. My home.

Frances Fuller attends Saint Paul Public Schools. She is in seventh grade.

Rainy view across Kellogg Bridge to Downtown courtesy of Punchup. Browse Punchup's photostream on Flickr at http://www.flickr.com/photos/punchup/

Katie McWatt (Photo: Arthur McWatt)

Arthur McWatt is the author of Crusaders for Justice: A Chronicle of Protest by Agitators, Advocates and Activists in their Struggle for Civil and Human Rights in St. Paul, Minnesota, 1802-1985. He is a historian of the African American experience in Saint Paul, and a retired and widely respected history teacher, who worked in the Saint Paul public school system for more than three decades. In his book, he articulates a moving and informative narrative of history that spans over a century, locally and nationally. In the book, McWatt tells about his wife, Katie McWatt, who was a pillar in the Civil Rights Movement in Saint Paul. She passed away April 19, 2010, at the age of seventy-nine.

...

Katie McWatt was about thirty-three years old when she ran for Saint Paul City Council: In March 1964, civil rights activists Reverend Denzil Carty, Kwame McDonald, and Alpha Adkins convinced Katie McWatt to run for a seat on the St. Paul City Council. There had never been an African-American on the Council in the history of the City. Her experience as an advocate for improved educational opportunities, the hiring of more African-American school staff, lobbyist for non-discrimination in housing, employment of African-Americans in the building trades and a dedication to social justice were critical issues for McWatt.

She had the support of the local neighborhood organizations, the North Central Voters League, and was endorsed by the Democratic Farmer Labor Party (DFL). Her grounding in government process came from her period working with the St. Paul League of Women Voters. She helped organize for the group and also encouraged them to place human rights on their agenda.

McWatt attended numerous coffee parties; door knocked in every ward and had volunteers staff the Katie For Council office located at the intersection of University and Rice Street. McWatt proved to be an excellent campaigner with a good command of the issues, extraordinary energy and a good memory for names and faces. Her husband Arthur and four children Timothy, Stacy, Christopher and Lynn supported her during this busy period.

McWatt's primary campaign showed that she captured 74 percent of Summit University, 84 percent of her precinct and 32 percent of the City. She became the first African-American to win a St. Paul City Council Primary and her name was placed on the general election ballot. She made a very strong showing and received 38,487 votes in the at-large citywide election; but she lost by less than 2000 votes. (p. 170)

Kathleen (Katie) Curry McWatt was born in Minneapolis to parents Mr. and Mrs. James Howard Curry (Helen Brady). Her sister Jean was eight years older. She graduated from the Minneapolis public schools. She went to the University of Minnesota where she earned her B.A. in Speech and went to the University of North Dakota for additional education in Counseling and Guidance. Her parents were born in Minnesota. Her mother was in the first graduating class from the newly built Minneapolis Central High School in 1914. Her father was a member of a large African American family who were born and raised in Hastings, Minnesota. He moved to Minneapolis, after graduating from Hastings High School, to become an automobile mechanic. He was the secretary of the African American chapter of the Masonic Lodge and an early member of St. Peter's AME Church. (p. 184)

From: Crusaders for Justice: A Chronicle of Protest by Agitators, Advocates and Activists in their Struggle for Civil and Human Rights in St. Paul, Minnesota, 1802-1985 by Arthur McWatt (Papyrus Publishing Inc.: Brooklyn Park, Minn., 2009)

Anura Si-Asar was born and raised in the historic Rondo community of Saint Paul. He is the copublisher of Papyrus Publishing Inc. with his wife, Rekhet. He coordinates the Imhotep Science Initiatives, an African youth development program at the Cultural Wellness Center. Anura is also a firefighter for the City of Minneapolis.

Loons in Minnesota. (Photo: Steve Wall/Flickr Creative Commons)

We were halfway around Como Lake when I heard it—the long mournful three-tone whistle-cry that grew in volume. I stopped. What is that? What is that? I know that sound. But it was utterly out of context, and I had to think to place it.

The bird called again. I stopped Doug and made him take out his earbuds. (He was listening to American Music Club on his iPod.) Doug, I hear a loon!

Como Lake is a small, urban lake. It is popular with mallards and wood ducks, herons and geese, and the occasional bald eagle. Not loons. Loons are shy northern waterbirds that we are sometimes lucky enough to hear when we’re Up North. They are not birds you commonly see, or hear, in the middle of a Saint Paul neighborhood.

Of course, Doug thought I was delusional. But there it was again, and this time he heard it too: aaaa oooooo ooooooooooo.

And then I saw them, out in the middle of the lake: By golly, a flock of about a half-dozen loons.

That April morning was gray and lightly foggy. The loons, we learned from other loon-watchers in the neighborhood, had flown in two days before, to pause on their way north for the spring migration. Floating among them were some mergansers and a few eared grebes—funny, herky-jerky birds with patches of orange on their oddly round heads. The usual ducks and Canada geese also populated the water. They were all bobbing on our little neighborhood lake, the newcomers and the regulars—the loons’ sharp profiles and white chests unmistakable amid the mallards and geese.

In late afternoon, we visited the lake again. The loons were still calling. By now, dozens of people had gathered along the shore, watching.

People knelt in the cattails, aiming long lenses at the water. People stopped at the edge of the path, binoculars pressed to their eyes. Others clustered in small groups and simply stared. One woman raised her cell phone and snapped a shot.

Cars stopped in the middle of the road so that the drivers could gawk. A guy behind the wheel of a green minivan peered through binoculars he held with one hand while chatting on a cell phone he held in the other. I’m watching it right now! It’s on the east side of the lake!

Loons live their entire lives on the water. They never come to shore; they cannot walk on land. They need lakes of a certain size in order to take off, run-skimming across the water a good distance before taking flight, and they have been known to get stuck on small lakes that don’t have enough room for their taxiing.

They stay mostly in the middle of the lake; they don’t hang around in the weeds the way the mallards do. So with only a pocket-sized digital point-and-shoot, my pictures weren’t very good. But they were a reminder, later, of the wonderful guests in our neighborhood that weekend.

Sunday turned warm and summery. In early evening, in seventy-degree sunshine, we walked down to the lake again. But the water was empty. The North had called, and the loons and grebes had moved on.

Laurie Hertzel is the books editor of the Star Tribune in Minneapolis and has been a Saint Paul resident for nearly fifteen years. The University of Minnesota Press published her memoir, News to Me: Adventures of an Accidental Journalist, in September 2010.

Minnesotan loon photo courtesy of Steve Wall. Please browse Steve's Flickr photostream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevewall/

Saturday and Sunday: Last chance to see the Spring Saint Paul Art Crawl!

An accordian player at an event during the Saint Paul Art Crawl. (Photo: Nigel Parry)

Don't let rain stop play! It only happens a couple of times a year (next one in Fall) and where else can you see art by over 325 resident, guest and gallery artists? And, in such beautiful and historic buildings? And, best of all, it's free! Come and visit with the artists and performers who have made this grassroots event into such a success. Art lovers of all ages are invited to visit artists' working spaces to view a wide range of art and the historic architecture of Saint Paul. Special events, music and more, as well as always-surprising unexpected entertainments add to the weekend's ambiance.

Remaining days: April 30th — Saturday afternoon, noon-8 pm; May 1st — Sunday, noon-5 pm. For more information see www.stpaulartcrawl.org

Check out more events in our Saint Paul Calendar at www.saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

The 2011 Almanac is a finalist in the Travel and Reference categories of the 21st Annual Midwest Book Awards!

The Midwest Independent Book Publishers Association (MIPA) has announced finalists for the 21st Annual Midwest Book Awards. Entries included a record 213 titles from publishers in the 12-state Midwest region. Books were reviewed by judges for excellence in 36 categories.

Browse the list of nominees here. Winners will be announced at the awards event:
When: Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Time: 6:30 – 8:30 p.m.
Place: Bloomington Arts Center, 1800 W. Old Shakopee Road, Bloomington, MN

Reservations are required to attend the awards event. IF YOU PLAN TO ATTEND, YOU MUST RSVP to Karen Walhof, chair: kwalhof@gmail.com

New writing from Terry Ford, Karina Strom, and Captain Bob Deck

Angels in the Skyway

By Terry Ford, April 30, 2011
In April 2009, my wife and I lost our house, then I decided to be homeless, and being depressed didn’t help things. This was a year from hell. Then I met some angels in the skyway of downtown Saint Paul. I did research and found out about the Dorothy Day Center. I stayed there at night, and I met some people I liked. Lindsley was someone I could talk to about religion and baseball—he was the first person to give me hope that things would get better. It was there that I learned a lot about people like myself who are homeless. I got to see that a lot of them are pretty caring people and very intelligent. They’re people just like you and me.

Rachel’s Trees

By Karina Strom, April 30, 2011
One of my favorite places in Saint Paul is Rachel’s Trees. Rachel’s Trees is a memorial to my sister who passed away a few days after birth. The trees are a small part of Como Park, but they are beautiful. They bloom white buds in the spring. They are only about five feet tall, but they are very important to me. Usually my mom, dad, and I go down to see the trees on my birthday.

High Water

By Captain Bob Deck, April 30, 2011
A grizzled old towboat mate of twenty-six named Steamboat Bill explained the dangers of working in high water to me in very simple, very direct terms. “Rule number-one is: Don’t fall in! If you fall in, you’re dead. It’s that simple. The current will drag you under and you’ll drown!” He told me this from the deck of a barge moored in South Saint Paul in the spring of 1975, when the Mississippi River was rising fast. Years later I watched as another young deckhand learned this lesson.

UPCOMING ALMANAC EVENTS: May 9th Lowertown Reading Jam: Desdamona presents “Silence and the Sound”

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The May 9th presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Desdamona, features readings by four spoken word performers living in Minnesota. The “Silence and the Sound” Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, May 9th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul.

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate

Waiting in the Skyways. (Photo courtesy: Sharon Mollerus/Flickr Creative Commons)

In April 2009, my wife and I lost our house, then I decided to be homeless, and being depressed didn’t help things. This was a year from hell. Then I met some angels in the skyway of downtown Saint Paul.

I did research and found out about the Dorothy Day Center. I stayed there at night, and I met some people I liked. Lindsley was someone I could talk to about religion and baseball—he was the first person to give me hope that things would get better. It was there that I learned a lot about people like myself who are homeless. I got to see that a lot of them are pretty caring people and very intelligent. They’re people just like you and me.

Then I found a place called City Passport for people age fifty and better. The manager, Renee, has a laugh you just can’t miss. Deb, the nurse, helps with health issues, and Trenton and I talk a lot about baseball. I enjoy talking, visiting, and doing fun things with the music group, the theater group, and the trivia group, which James leads. I also volunteer once a week leading a trivia group at the Apollo Drop-in Center, which is just south of I-94 on Dale Street.

4th Street Skyway in Saint Paul. (Photo: Kevin T. Houle/Flickr Creative Commons)

I started having coffee at Caribou Coffee in the skyway. Charlie, the owner, is a great guy. I’ve also gotten to know Britta, whom I have great talks with; Marcia, who has given me books to read; Olivia, to whom I gave the book Olivia, and who just had a baby girl in March; Jackie, who has started to work there again; Harvest, who got her name because she was born on Thanksgiving; Starr, whose smile brightens my day; and Chris, whom I love to talk with about sports. At the other Caribou Coffee, which Lexi ran, they have used my trivia questions.

I go to the Saint Paul Central Library just about every day because I like to read—I have gone there ever since I was a little kid. In fact, I enjoy reading now more than ever. I think it’s fun that when you read a good one, you pass it on, and you let someone else read it.

If I hadn’t gone to City Passport and Caribou Coffee, I would probably still be depressed and not wanting to do anything with my life. Now, I want to get involved in theater, do more writing, and keep looking for a job. I found that there are angels who live and work in downtown Saint Paul.

Terry Ford has lived in Saint Paul since 1972. His passions are the movies, baseball, and reading books. He has enjoyed writing for years, enjoys life, and learning new things. Terry is active in the City Passport program for adults “fifty and better” and is currently acting in two plays with the Passport Players. Terry attends readings and other performances by his Passport friends.

Skyway photos courtesy of Kevin T. Houle and Sharon Mollerus. Browse Kevin's photostream and Sharon's photostream on Flickr.

Rachel’s Trees at Como Park (Photo: Daniel Tilsen)

Usually my mom, dad, and I go down to see the trees on my birthday. The reason we go down on my birthday is because it was her birthday too. She was my identical twin.

If you ever want to see my sister’s peaceful memorial, it is just across the street from the Como Conservatory. That is one of my favorite places in Saint Paul.

Karina Strom is in sixth grade. Karina loves to dance and takes classes at MYDT dance; she has been dancing for about eight years. She also loves to act, travel, and go to new places. Karina is very glad her piece about her sister’s memorial, “Rachel’s Trees,” is in the Saint Paul Almanac.

Pig’s Eye Bridge from southbound towboat Paul Lambert (Photo: Captain Bob Deck)

Years later I watched as another young deckhand learned this lesson. It was spring of 1992 when he slipped on an icy deck and went into the swirling frigid water under the Lafayette Street Bridge. Two of us were right behind him, and we dropped to our knees and looked into the dark water but could see nothing. A second later, a gloved hand shot up, and we grabbed him before the current could carry him away. In seconds, we dragged him into the galley and deposited the sputtering kid on the deck next to an electric heater. He sat there blinking a few seconds before he could stutter, “Th-the da-damn cu-cu-current t-t-took my nu-nu-nu-new Sorrels right off my f-f-feet.”

The flood of 1993 was a time of learning for river man and animal alike. In the early morning hours of June 23, the river rose high enough to shut down railroad bridge operations, cover Shepard Road, and swallow up Harriet and Pig’s Eye islands. Then, half the barges fleeted in South Saint Paul broke loose. It took several boats to chase and round them up before they could collide with the other fleets and 494 bridge and cause some real catastrophe.

I later spoke with a deckhand who saw the breakaway. His boat was holding four loads that had hit the far bank when they broke loose. He pointed at a bare tree stump on the bank. It was about eight feet across and looked to have been torn apart. “That big cottonwood tree just exploded when the barges hit it!” he said.

One boat was released from cleanup to return to the wharf barge in Pig’s Eye Lake and retrieve those of us who would work the day shift. Four crews crowded onto the Lois E as she headed back out to the river to finish securing a couple dozen barges. The high water had created some new hazards as the current had increased. There is a shifting sandbar across the river from the old packing houses where the current is dammed, causing a series of rapids or standing waves with crests as high as five feet.

I watched from the port window of Lois E’s pilothouse as the pilot guided the boat through the first of the waves. The square bow dipped down and sank underwater before wallowing free of the river. As the boat pushed toward the next wave, we spotted two adult deer swimming frantically with the current. We watched helplessly as the pair of deer tried vainly to swim through the waves to get to us. They must have been desperate to think our noisy towboat would save them. When they were just a few feet away, they turned together and swam downstream away from the boat. Fatigue must have won out, because they disappeared between the waves and we never saw them again.

We walked the barges, surveying the broken rigging, and someone heard a mewing sound from the island, which had become completely submerged. The current swirled around the trees many feet over what had been solid ground days earlier.

In between the trees, a fawn struggled to stay above water. In response to our coaxing, it swam to the edge of the barge, but then panicked and swam around the upper end and out into the main channel. Worried that it would meet the same fate as its parents, we turned the boat loose, and the pilot guided us down close to the startled fawn. I held one of the deckhands by his belt and lowered him down as he scooped the fawn out of the river.

While the orphaned critter wandered about the galley, we made another round of the fleet and managed to free a family of ducks caught between two of the barges. It took a little effort with a broomstick to nudge them up and out of the space to where their wings could spread enough to get away from us. Sometime during the early afternoon, a U of M agriculture team came to pick up the fawn at our wharf barge in Pig’s Eye Lake.

After the flood. Emil Hartman, one of the deckhands who survived falling overboard, standing in front of Brian Brezinka in barge fleet along Pig’s Eye Island

“Don’t do that by yourself!” he yelled as the new kid set about to lifting the other side wire from the timberhead on the barge. It was a warning that was ignored or came too late. As soon as the wire was in his hands, he leaned back and fell onto his rear as the wire pulled him over the end of the barge and into the wicked current. By the time Doyle got to him, he had lost his grip on the edge of the barge and was about to slip under the fleet to drown for sure. Doyle dove along the deck, somehow managing to hang over the end of the barge and reach down just in time to snag the kid’s wrist before the current could suck him under the barges. He managed to pull the greenie out of the river and dragged him onto the barge. As they both slumped there catching their breath, Doyle said to him, “What did I tell you? Don’t fall in the damn river! If you do, you’re dead.” 

Captain Bob Deck grew up on numerous Air Force bases, landing in Saint Paul during high school. He worked on the Mississippi River towboats for 25 years. Now he divides his time between writing about his adventures on the Mississippi River, piloting the Padelford Packet boats, and substitute teaching for Saint Paul Public Schools.

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The May 9th presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Desdamona, features readings by four spoken word performers living in Minnesota.

The "Silence and the Sound" Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, May 9th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July.

ABOUT THE PERFORMERS

Desdamona

Marie Chanté

Cole “Inky” Sarar

Laura Yurich

ABOUT THE LOWERTOWN READING JAMS

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009, and they have been steadily gaining in popularity as excited audiences spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes: http://larahanson.com

The entire 2010–2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 – Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 – Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 – Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
Feb. 21, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.
About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

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Hmong stall owners on Seventh Place during a summer farmers' market (Photo: Dan Tilsen)

Only one block long, Seventh Place is Saint Paul’s answer to European pedestrian-only city centers. From the golden entry archway facing St. Peter Street to the frequent bustle of the Wabasha pedestrian crossing, the patterned brick underfoot lifts its denizens out of the workaday world and transports them to an old city square in Nordic Europe, or on days when the farmers’ market is in session, to Southeast Asia.

Even on nonmarket days, the Place offers a panoply of diversions. During Winter Carnival, the Great Waters brew pub puts out an elegant ice throne (I’ve heard that drinks are free if you down them while seated there, but I’ve never seen anyone brave it), and some years they feature a complete ice bar and side tables with chairs.

In warm weather, your mood can’t help but rise as the laughter and conversation from the dueling patios of Great Waters and Wild Tymes draws you down the street, past the stone slab of the Hamm’s Bear monument (even just glancing at it sets the tones of “From the land of sky blue waters” running through my head), to savor the always offbeat displays in the front window of the Artist Mercantile. You walk past the playbills for Park Square Theatre (during spring lunchtimes, swarms of middle schoolers pour onto the brickwork), the huddled smokers in the alley, the pigeon feeders slumped on wooden benches tending to their “pets.” The music of buskers accompanies you along the way—the Dylan devotee, the blues harp player, occasional students from McNally Smith College of Music—while the smell of baking bread wafts from Jimmy John’s and Bruegger’s Bagels. Finally, you pass the hot dog man, with his oldies station blaring and his beach umbrella spread wide above his wares.

Near the Wabasha end of Seventh Place, a perplexing mural decorates the side of Walgreens, showing central Saint Paul landmarks—but all out of place, as if the city planners had decided to scramble their toys and try out a new configuration. Gone are signs for a recording studio that never quite happened (for months, that sign was enough to inspire excitement at what might be coming next), and a mythical art supply store that was created for the Arnold Schwarzenegger vehicle Jingle All the Way.

But there’s nothing like those Thursday (and sometimes Tuesday) farmers’ markets, when the whole street is ablaze with color—some from the enticing flower stall (which always seems to do a thriving business), and most from the tempting, delicious-looking displays of local vegetables. (Is that really food? It looks like art.) Most of the vendors are Hmong American, their stalls operated by family members of all ages. It’s a communal scene, one I’ve seen many times in the Hmong homelands (and elsewhere) in Southeast Asia. The old grandmother resting in the shade, the toddler content to wave an asparagus stalk in the air, the teenagers who’ve made sure they’re styling right even during work hours, and, under it all, the industriousness and tight-knit sense of family that so characterizes Hmong culture. I don’t always need vegetables, but my spirit never fails to be lifted by strolling past the displays, immersing myself in a vibrant, clustered community life that draws Saint Paulites of every age and background together, even if only for the length of a city block.

Though I tend to scoff at the conceit, I must admit that the sign above the defunct Palace Theatre advertising a long-closed Brave New Workshop show still says it well: “Minnesota, It’s Not Just For Lutherans Anymore.”

Daniel Gabriel’s new short story collection, Tales From The Tinker’s Dam, has nothing to do with Saint Paul. Though he has worked for COMPAS for over 20 years—both as roster artist and as director for the Arts Education and Arts in Health Care programs—he denies any conflict of interest.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

Near glass jars of jam,
My feet hit the ground in front of
Bright red strawberries.

Stall owners call out.
Beans, hanging like strings, float.
Crisp squash lies waiting.

Brown potatoes sit.
Piles of spinach start to wilt.
The Farmers’ Market ends.

I was six years old,
Skipping through the stalls,
A donut finally in hand.

Olivia Berven attends Saint Paul Public Schools. She is in seventh grade.

Selby Avenue in Spring (Photo: Teresa Boardman/Flickr CC)

Marianne McNamara has strong favorable biases toward mysteries, ice cream, sidewalks, Italian food, watching snow fall . . . and writing. Her hard drive is full of works in progress; some she’ll finish sooner and some later. She never deletes anything. Marianne has been writing poetry for about fifteen years. Her work has appeared in Lake Country Journal, Talking Stick, County Lines, and Dust and Fire.

Selby Ave in Spring photo courtesy of Teresa Boardman. Browse Teresa's photostream on Flickr.

Porky's serves its last burger

A crowd lines up during Porky's, at 1890 University Avenue in St. Paul, during the drive-in's penultimate day, April 2nd, 2011. (Photo: Punchup/Flickr Creative Commons)

Since 1953, Porky's has been the Twin Cities' classic drive-in restaurant, the arena for more than a few mating rituals of members of the Saint Paul species. The restaurant served its last burger on Sunday, April 3rd, 2011.

Nora Truelson, who owned Porky's with her son, began working as a waitress in the restaurant in 1957 before becoming owner Ray Truelson's girlfriend, and later his wife and business partner. Truelson passed away in 1994.

The red-and-white checkered building that houses the drive-in restaurant and two of its signs are being moved from University Avenue, by new owner Steve Bauer, to his historic tourist village near Hastings, MN, the Little Log House Pioneer Village, where the Porky's shell will become part of Bauer's collection of more than 50 historical buildings including several late 1800s and early 1900s structures.

KARE 11 reports that "The restaurant's iconic neon sign of a pig in a top hat was not part of the sale. The Truelsons have put the sign in storage amidst reports they will use it for a new food concession at the Minnesota State Fair."

Local media has been full of stories of Porky's final customers, people who have come from all over the city to relive memories and say goodbye to the iconic location. On April 1st, the Star Tribune wrote:

Russ and Evelyn Rau ordered burgers, onion rings and a strawberry malt to share -- just as they've done since 1959.

"When you get older, so many things from your past seem to disappear," said Evelyn, 69, who would still swing by with Russ whenever possible from their home in Inver Grove Heights.

At another table sat Jim Alexander, who grew up in St. Paul and now lives in Shoreview. He said he proposed to his wife along the back fence.

They are still together.

Photos courtesy Minnesota Historical Society.

The Almanac's Carol Connolly receives Kay Sexton Award at 23rd annual Minnesota Book Awards

Almanac partner, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library announced the winners of the 23rd annual Minnesota Book Awards. The annual program is a project of The Friends, in consortium with the Saint Paul Public Library and the City of Saint Paul.

Carol Connolly, 2011 Winner of the Kay Sexton Award

At the Book Awards gala on April 16th, Saint Paul Almanac board member and Saint Paul Poet Laureate Carol Connolly received the previously announced Kay Sexton Award, for her lifelong contributions to Minnesota’s literary community. In the words of Carolyn Holbrook, 2010 winner of the Kay Sexton Award,

“Carol’s commitment to literature spans several decades and cuts across the many invisible lines that tend to divide us: age, race, economics, political affiliation, gender and sexual orientation.”

Connolly works tirelessly for the betterment of the literary community and the community at large. She is committed to supporting other writers, exposing readers to diverse literary voices, and bringing poetry to the streets. The Award is sponsored by Common Good Books.

Mark your calendars for the Spring Saint Paul Art Crawl!

Spring 2011 Saint Paul Art Crawl poster competition winner: Kevan Willington, “Meadowlark Rose” oil painting

April 29th – Friday evening, 6-10 pm.
April 30th – Saturday afternoon, noon-8 pm.
May 1st – Sunday, noon-5 pm.

Where else can you see art by over 325 resident, guest and gallery artists? And, in such beautiful and historic buildings? And, best of all, it’s free! Come and visit with the artists and performers who have made this grassroots event into such a success. Art lovers of all ages are invited to visit artists’ working spaces to view a wide range of art and the historic architecture of Saint Paul. Special events, music and more, as well as always-surprising unexpected entertainments add to the weekend’s ambiance.

This Spring will be the 31st Saint Paul Art Crawl! One of the largest events of its type in the Twin Cities and the country, the St. Paul Art Crawl is a self-guided tour of over 325 artists' studios and galleries in more than 27 buildings in St. Paul neighborhoods. The Art Crawl continues to be based in Lowertown and downtown St. Paul, but is now extending all the way up to University Avenue/Raymond Avenue, to Grand Avenue, and to Harriet Island and other locations which house artists. Details on artists, buildings and special events are available.

For more information visit www.stpaulartcrawl.org and to browse more events from our Saint Paul Calendar, visit www.saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

New writing from Daniel Gabriel, Olivia Berven, and Marianne McNamara

2011 Saint Paul Almanac contributors welcome the change of seasons:

• Daniel Gabriel writes about Seventh Place: Saint Paul’s Window on The World.
• Seventh-grader Olivia Berven remembers her first visit to The Farmers' Market.
• Marianne McNamara welcomes spring in with a Benediction.

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The April presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Marcie R. Rendon, features readings by three native  poets and performers living in Minnesota.

The Anishinabe and Lakota Lowertown Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, April 11th, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July.

About the performers

Marcie R. Rendon

Sharon Day, Ojibwe - Bois Forte Enrollee. An artist and musician, she has spent 46 years as a Saint Paulite.

Marisa Carr is a poet, performer, musician and visual artist. She grew up in Milwaukee, WI, but currently lives and works in Minneapolis. She was one of 8 fellows selected to participate in The Loft’s Inroads for Native Writers program, and has been featured as a performer in various venues around the Twin Cities, including the award-winning Equilibrium spoken word series, as well as in Johannesburg, South Africa. Marisa is Turtle Mountain Ojibwe. She is 23 years old.

Click for enlargement

About the Lowertown Reading Jams

The entire 2010–2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 21, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

Arcata Press, publisher of the Saint Paul Almanac, is pleased to announce the recent hiring of three new staff members to assist in community engagement, fundraising and sponsorship development. We welcome David Unowsky, Deborah Torraine and Robert Smaller, Jr., who are joining us to expand our program outreach, despite the continuing economic challenges common to many nonprofit organizations.

L-R: David Unowsky, Deborah Torraine and Robert Smaller, Jr.

To learn more about our new faces, visit this page.

The Saint Paul Almanac now has a Lowertown office, overlooking the Farmers' Market, at 275 Fourth Street! More on that in our next blog!

Flooding in Saint Paul—Then and now

One of the downsides of living by the beautiful Mississippi River is having to deal with floods during the rainy seasons. The Minnesota Historical Society has an amazing collection of images from past floods.

Images of the interruption of transport networks from a 1966 flood. (Photos: MHS)

Can the Almanac resist captioning that top right photo, "Flood planes"? Probably not!

Top: Kellogg Boulevard in Lowertown, St. Paul, looking east during flood, 1965 (Minnesota Historical Society). Flood forecast graphic from the National Weather Service. Tip of the hat to Nathan Buttleman

As you can see from the above National Weather Service flood preparation graph, the Mississippi river is currently just over 18.5 feet high, with a current predicted crest of over 19 feet. Here are the various "Flood Impacts" designations for different water levels in Saint Paul.
14 feet - Minor Flood Stage
14 feet - Water Street Closed
14 feet - Lilydale Park area begins to become submerged
17 feet - Major Flood Stage
17 feet - Secondary flood walls are deployed at St. Paul airport
17.5 feet - Harriet Island begins to become submerged
18 feet - Shepard / Warner Road may become impassable

Top: Teenagers build dikes in Stillwater. (Courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)
Bottom: Charlie, who lives on the first floor of the Tilsner Building in Lowertown, St. Paul, demonstrates his sandbagging technique in back of the artists' cooperative. (Courtesy James Ramsay)

 

New writing from Patricia Cummings, Tim Nolan, Marianne McNamara and Wendy Brown-Báez

World War II—The Home Front in Highland Park

By Patricia Cummings
When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in 1941, I was three years old. Two years later, my silver-haired father, Verne Cummings, was drafted into the Army. He was thirty-five and the father of two. After basic training, Dad was assigned to Special Troops, Headquarters Company, 8th Infantry Division, and spent the next two years in Europe. Dad always said he was assigned to Special Troops because he knew how to run a movie projector. Even though he had never finished high school, Dad was quickly promoted. After the German surrender, Sergeant Cummings led his squad to liberate one of the concentration camps. 

Cold Night

By Tim Nolan
My feet are cold—the car
is cold—the car sounds
like a bucket of bolts
Rolling down a hill—
it’s so cold that my breath
falls like ice from the roof… 

In Nomine Patris

By Marianne McNamara
The year was 1933: FDR had just succeeded Herbert Hoover in the White House, the first episode of The Lone Ranger aired on the radio, Fay Wray co-starred with a giant mechanical gorilla in King Kong, and the chocolate chip cookie had just been invented. The young boy hurried alone through the freezing darkness on his way to Assumption, the old German church on West Seventh Street, where he served daily Mass. It was still very early, barely five o’clock. 

Building a Bridge with Words

By Wendy Brown-Báez
At the writing workshop, I ask the students if they are here because they think writing is important. A couple of them raise their hands. Then I ask if they are taking the workshop because they will receive extra credit, and most of the hands shoot up. I had offered to share my love of language by teaching this workshop at Face to Face Academy, a charter school for homeless youth in crisis, after learning that 70 percent of all teens in foster care end up being homeless for a year or two—foster parents no longer receive help from the government when the child turns eighteen. 

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate

Arcata Press, publisher of the Saint Paul Almanac, is pleased to announce the recent hiring of three new staff members to assist in community engagement, fundraising and sponsorship development.

David Unowsky

Deborah Torraine

Robert Smaller, Jr.

About the Almanac

Frequently described as “a literary campfire around which the diverse Saint Paul community gathers to share its stories,” the Saint Paul Almanac provides entertainment, photography, maps and listings of events, restaurants, theaters and other cultural venues within a datebook format. By combining the calendar aspects of an almanac with literary stories and poetry, the Almanac encourages readers to use their books and enjoy local literature throughout the year, effectively bringing good writing into the daily life of the city.

Led by managing editor, Kimberly Nightingale, the Saint Paul Almanac mentors a panel of community editors who collect stories in their diverse communities—both written and oral—and together decide which essays and poems to include in the Almanac. This collaborative and democratic approach with a cross-cultural and cross-generational team strengthens the relationship of the Almanac to the community it serves.

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

About Arcata Press

Incorporated as a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization in 2005, Arcata Press was created with the goal of bringing the diverse Saint Paul community together by supporting local literary arts through an experiment in democratic publishing. This mission is primarily accomplished through publication of the Saint Paul Almanac, public readings, mentorships, and other activities that showcase and honor local voices. The Arcata Press board of directors is an active board that is stunningly diverse and representative of the communities featured in the Almanac.

Patsy & Marylin (Photo: Patricia Cummings)

After basic training, Dad was assigned to Special Troops, Headquarters Company, 8th Infantry Division, and spent the next two years in Europe. Dad always said he was assigned to Special Troops because he knew how to run a movie projector. Even though he had never finished high school, Dad was quickly promoted. After the German surrender, Sergeant Cummings led his squad to liberate one of the concentration camps. After they had seen the camp, the GIs marched the town’s mayor and his cronies back there to see the horror of it firsthand. I remember Dad saying with disgust, “They all claimed they didn’t know. How could they not know!”

One time when Dad came home on leave, he brought matching rabbit fur jackets for my little sister, Marilyn, and me. Mother didn’t let us wear those jackets too often because they shed terribly, but the softness of the fur lingers in my memory. Another time, our next-door neighbor took dozens of photos of us with Dad in his uniform. Those black-and-white photos still exist and help me remember the few war stories Dad told us, but the stories of our life on the home front in Saint Paul are the ones I remember most.

While Dad was gone, we stayed in the little stucco house in Highland Park. Mother’s job was “to keep the home fires burning,” and that’s what she did. To supplement her allotment check, Mother moved Marilyn’s crib into my bedroom, and the three of us slept there so she could rent out the front bedroom. I remember only one renter—Rose, a small, pretty blond with a sunny smile. Rose’s husband, Sammy, was a naval officer in the Pacific. Rose was pregnant, and when she went into labor, Mother, who prided herself on always being in control, helped Rose out to the garage and into our car. And then Mother drove right through the closed garage door. Somehow, she managed to drive to the hospital, and both Rose and her new baby were fine.

When our water heater stopped working, Mother had to buy a new one. It was the first time she had ever made such a big purchase, and she was very proud when the new heater started producing hot water. By the end of the war, Mother had figured out how to singlehandedly run every aspect of our household. This made for some understandable tension when Dad came home expecting to resume his husbandly dominance, accepted as the norm back then.

During the war, everything was rationed. We had red tokens for meat, stamps for sugar and flour, coupons for gas. Mother did her shopping at Fort Snelling, where we bought groceries at the commissary, and drugstore items at the PX. We saved everything for the war effort—tinfoil from gum wrappers, bacon grease, newspapers, metal. Even rags. We had a victory garden in the vacant lot next door where we grew vegetables in impeccably straight, weed-free rows. Mother wasn’t happy with our neighbor Bea who shared this garden space because Bea just threw in a bunch of squash and watermelon seeds and let them grow wild.

Although Minnesota is in the middle of the continent, we often heard air raid sirens, warning that some far-flying enemy planes planned to drop bombs on us. The federal munitions plant in New Brighton could be a target, after all. Once, in the middle of the night, I woke to the sound of loud rapping on the front door. A civilian air raid warden stood there, chastising Mother, who had fallen asleep on the sofa with the lights on. Our little house had created a security breach.

When the war in Europe was over, our war on the home front was over, too. We drove out to Fort Snelling to meet Dad’s troop train, but soon learned that it was going to be delayed for hours, so we went back home, and Mother put us to bed. In the middle of the night, the bedroom door opened, the light went on, and Dad was standing there in his uniform. I jumped up on the bed, trying to get to him, got tangled in the sheets, and fell down before he caught me up in a huge hug. Dad was home for good, and our family was complete again. I had just turned seven.

Patricia Cummings grew up in Saint Paul. She graduated from the College of St. Catherine (now St. Catherine University) and did what women of her generation were supposed to do—got married and had three children. Eventually, Pat went back to work and made a career in philanthropy for twenty-five years. Now retired, Pat spends many happy hours at her computer, writing prose and poetry.

Winter street scene, St. Paul, circa 1955. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

My feet are cold—the car
is cold—the car sounds
like a bucket of bolts
Rolling down a hill—
it’s so cold that my breath
falls like ice from the roof
And the dog tip-toes
on the sidewalk—and the lake
seems to breathe deeply
Just as it freezes solid—
and the crisp snow under the tires
sounds like brown paper bags
Crumpled in a garbage can—
everything is cold—even the stars—
they crack—in the dark blue—

Tim Nolan is a lawyer and poet in Minneapolis, where he lives with his wife and three kids. His poems have appeared in The Gettysburg Review, The Nation, Ploughshares, and on The Writer’s Almanac. Tim’s first book, The Sound of It (New Rivers Press, 2008), was a finalist for a Minnesota Book Award.

Assumption Church at 51 West Seventh Street in downtown Saint Paul (Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

The young boy hurried alone through the freezing darkness on his way to Assumption, the old German church on West Seventh Street, where he served daily Mass. It was still very early, barely five o’clock. Sometimes the boy would stop at Davidson’s Restaurant, breaking his communion fast because he was hungry and there was never enough to eat at home.

Bobbie, the grumpy old woman who worked in the kitchen, would sneak him two hot doughnuts. He’d put them in his pockets and wrap his cold hands around their fragrant warmth. If she was in a good mood, Bobbie would have a steaming cup of cocoa ready for him. He’d gulp the sweet, hot liquid, enjoying the heat as it went to his belly.

Marianne’s father, Ray Lepsche (left), and his older brother, Dick (right), play in their yard on Geranium Avenue around 1929. (Photo: Marianne McNamara)

The boy was expected to recite the Latin responses in a loud, clear voice, and received a fierce glare if he forgot or stumbled over a phrase: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. And yet, in spite of this, the boy was filled with love for God and all things spiritual. He would leave the holy place with an indefinable yearning for this saintly existence. For a time, the boy dreamed of being a priest, but then he discovered girls and chose a different path. In 1946, he married my mother.

My dad used his many talents over the years to help boys of all ages as a probation officer, friend, mentor, and coach. In return, he was greatly loved and respected by generations of youth. Dad passed away in 2005, but his memory lives on.

Marianne McNamara has strong favorable biases toward mysteries, ice cream, sidewalks, Italian food, watching snow fall... and writing. Her hard drive is full of works in progress; some she’ll finish sooner and some later. She never deletes anything. Marianne has been writing poetry for about fifteen years. Her work has appeared in Lake Country Journal, Talking Stick, County Lines, and Dust and Fire.

Students at Face to Face Academy Writing Workshop (Photo: Carole Mannheim)

I had offered to share my love of language by teaching this workshop at Face to Face Academy, a charter school for homeless youth in crisis, after learning that 70 percent of all teens in foster care end up being homeless for a year or two—foster parents no longer receive help from the government when the child turns eighteen. Homeless might mean sleeping on a friend’s couch, not necessarily on the street, but when I think about my own teenage years—a time of opportunity and optimism for the future, not uncertainty as to where I might spend the night—I want to do something concrete to reach out to teens whose lives are in upheaval, to build a bridge between myself and them, to demonstrate that others do care.

Located at 1165 Arcade Street, Face to Face is a lighthouse on the shoals of broken families, domestic violence, unstable homes, and trouble with authorities—places where words are cheap and promises broken.

Even though I trust the writing process, I am always surprised at how much we accomplish. We read and discuss a poem briefly, then use a line or concept from it to jump-start spontaneous associations. Just keep writing, I tell them.

My students come back week after week. Each time they want to know how many weeks are left, but each week, they show up, even if they haven’t attended school that day.

We write about places we call home, what we will never forget, what makes us happy, our hopes and dreams.

I am a relative newcomer to the Twin Cities, and I had heard that for such a cold place, there is a warm heart. I find it here, at the edge where despair and hope meet, where a teen learns strength, learns to be responsible for his or her choices, learns that life may not be fair but you can ask for, and get, a second chance. 

At the end of the workshop, I ask them to write on a slip of paper what they have learned. “What if I didn’t learn anything?” a student asks—the one with perfect attendance. “Then write what you accomplished,” I suggest. She shrugs. “I showed up.” I chuckle; but really, for a teen in crisis, that is an accomplishment. Not to mention the lovely poem that she hands in. Yes. We showed up. For eight weeks. For the sake of words.  

Wendy Brown-Báez is a poet, teacher, spoken word artist, whose CD is titled Longing for Home, and author of a new collection of poems, Ceremonies of the Spirit. Wendy also established In the Shelter of Words, a special project at the Face to Face Academy charter school in Saint Paul.

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. Just in time for St. Patrick’s Day, the March presentation of the eclectic series, curated by Carol Connolly, features readings by six of the finest poets and performers of Irish descent working in Minnesota today.

The all-Irish Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, March 14, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July.

About the performers

Saint Paul Poet Laureate Carol Connolly

KEVIN FITZPATRICK, poet and author of Down on the Corner and Rush Hour (Midwest Villages and Voices), and Greatest Hits 1975 to 2000 (Pudding House Press), is a founder and was editor of the Lake Street Review, a highly regarded literary magazine, now extinct. Widely published in literary magazines and anthologies, his poems have been read by Garrison Keillor on The Writer’s Almanac.

TED KING, at 50, started writing beat and dada poems and presenting them as part of an improvisational jazz group. His Word Jazz CD is Close to the Cool. He has performed in many venues including The Loring Bar, 7th Street Entry, Kitty Kat Klub, the Varsity Theatre, and more. One critic said of his work, “It’s like Charlie Parker and the Dalai Lama steal a car and run over Leonard Cohen.”

BRIAN LAIDLAW, poet and folksinger, is from San Francisco. His lyrics have appeared in American Songwriter Magazine, and his poems appeared or are forthcoming in New American Writing, FIELD, Quarter After Eight, The Iowa Review, and elsewhere. He was the recipient of the 2009 Gesell Award for Poetry and a finalist for the 2010 Loft Mentor Series. Laidlaw is completing an MFA in poetry at the University of Minnesota. He teaches songwriting at McNally Smith College of Music.

ETHNA McKIERNAN, poet, whose book The One Who Swears You Can’t Start Over, from Salmon Publishing in County Clare, Ireland, follows her Minnesota Book Award nominated Caravan (Midwest Villages and Voices), is widely published in anthologies here and in Ireland. Her new book, Sky Thick with Fireflies, also from Salmon, is set for October release.

MARY KAY RUMMEL, poet, will read from her new book, Sometimes What’s Left is Singing (Blue Light Press). Earlier collections include Love in the End (Bright Hill Press), Illuminations (Cherry Grove Collections), Green Journey; Red Bird (Loonfeather Press), Long Journey Into North (Juniper Press) and This Body She’s Entered - a Minnesota Voices Award winner from New Rivers Press. Rummel is a University of Duluth professor emeritus, and teaches at California State University, Channel Islands. Her poems trace a woman’s passionate search for illumination, which began with her personal exploration of the Book of Kells.

About the Lowertown Reading Jams

Click for enlargement

The entire 2010-2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 21, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Now in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

Here at the Saint Paul Almanac, we clearly value the written word, but there's definitely a time when it's good to walk all over it, scuff it, and jump around on top of it! For the fourth year running, the City of Saint Paul and Public Art Saint Paul have announced the St. Paul Sidewalk Poetry Contest.

Everyday Poems for City Sidewalk: A Project by Marcus Young and Friends, Saint Paul Public Works, and Public Art Saint Paul with Contributions from Saint Paul Poets

The contest is open March 15 through April 17, 2011 and accepts short poems from Saint Paul residents of all ages. Winning poems will be inscribed in sidewalks as part of the City’s annual Sidewalk Replacement program and winning poets receive a cash award.

Past winners have included Saint Paul Poet Laureate Carol Connolly, and other published Almanac writers including Margaret Hasse, Diego Vázquez, Jr., and Patricia Kirkpatrick. The project's lead artist is Marcus Young, Saint Paul’s Artist-in-Residence since 2006. Since the program was inaugurated in 2008, 31 poems have been impressed into 268 sidewalk sites citywide:

View Larger Map

For more information see http://stpaul.gov/poetry/ and http://publicartstpaul.org/everydaysidewalk/

MORE LOWERTOWN READING JAMS COMING IN 2011

Saint Paul Poet Laureate Carol Connolly

• TOMORROW! Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

New writing from Gordy Palzer, Deb Pleasants and Diane Wilson

A Man’s Epiphany at O’Gara’s

By Gordy Palzer
It isn’t as far from Saint Paul to Nepal as you might think it is. This was all brought home to me several years ago, in the men’s room of O’Gara’s Bar and Grill on Snelling Avenue in Saint Paul, where I experienced an epiphany while gazing up at its fourteen-foot-high walls, and saw there evidenced a feat of heroic proportions—surely on a par, for ordinary men, that is, with Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay in their conquest of Mount Everest. Read More

Not Your Typical Irish Dancer

By Deb Pleasants
Grabbing the ballet barre to support myself, I attempted to stretch out my right leg. My thigh felt like a vise was twisting it tighter and tighter. The pain was so intense, I was afraid to breathe. I hobbled out of the dance room and nearly collapsed on the hallway floor. Massaging my cramped leg, I watched those energetic adults and wondered how I, a forty-seven-year-old Black woman with no dance experience, ended up in an Irish dance class. Read more

Early Spring

By Diane Wilson
Pale vision on an early day:
two gray wings gliding flat
balance on the body’s straight line.
A trill rises from the meadow….
Read more

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

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Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate

On the corner of Selby and Snelling Avenues in St. Paul, O'Garas expanded decades ago into the space once occupied by the Family Barber Shop, owned by Carl Schulz, father of Charles M. Schulz. (History lesson and photo courtesy of Jim Ellwanger/Flickr Creative Commons)

This was all brought home to me several years ago, in the men’s room of O’Gara’s Bar and Grill on Snelling Avenue in Saint Paul, where I experienced an epiphany while gazing up at its fourteen-foot-high walls, and saw there evidenced a feat of heroic proportions—surely on a par, for ordinary men, that is, with Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay in their conquest of Mount Everest.

This small, absurdly tall room had an annoying dimness, attributable to its “aesthetic” color combination: a deep, dark brown coat of paint defined its lower level, to about six feet or so, and from there on up to its distant ceiling, a putrid dark green took over. Yet I was strangely mesmerized by the relentless march of that ghastly green up the endless wall.

And that’s how I saw it—while gazing up at that expanse of avocado concrete—an interruption in the bland surface, a simple graffito proclaiming, “Big Irv was here.”

Few restrooms escape the plague of graffiti, man’s eternal desire to leave his mark. What made this scribble remarkable was its distance from the floor—it was even beyond a tall man’s reach from the top of the urinal, even if he could manage to balance himself on the porcelain fixture. How could this act of bravado have been accomplished by some mere, beer-swilling bar patron?

This is what I was pondering while tilting my head back to admire Big Irv’s claim—and then spied his better. At a still greater height, an astoundingly greater height, lay a second inscription, written perhaps in scorn of Big Irv’s bold boast. A scrawl at the very top of the wall pronounced: “So was Big Jake.”

I was astounded by the defiance of all laws of nature embodied in that taunt. I felt that I was in the presence of greatness and mystery, much as Howard Carter must have felt when he at last broke through the final wall and stood before the great tomb of Tutankhamen. Who could possibly have foreseen what great discovery awaited me in this men’s room, now a monument to the irrepressible ambitions of man?

As I gaped at the distant mark, another patron entered and took stock of my earnest but slack-jawed upward gaze with apparent alarm, so I left hurriedly, unable to give the moment its due.

Years later, I went back to O’Gara’s to see if perhaps those two brief epistles had survived the intervening remodel. But no, it was not to be. Not even a shadow remained. (I can only hope that the tradesman painting the remodeled restroom paused at least for a moment—in silence and out of respect—for the hand-lettered testament to masculine enterprise that he was about to consign forever to oblivion.)

I quaffed a beer as a toast to both Big Irv and Big Jake, and left that venerable old establishment with a lift in my step and a tip of my hat, thankful for having been made mindful of the great heights to which men can aspire—whether these heights reach into the sky in Nepal or the dingy walls in a bar’s restroom in Saint Paul, Minnesota. While Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay were the first to go “where no man had gone before,” it would do them well to move over just a bit atop Everest’s empyrean heights to make room for Sirs Big Irv and Big Jake, who surely stand for the ordinary man’s capacity to aspire to—and achieve—greatness.

Gordy Palzer, in his ongoing quest to be a serious writer, has now resorted to writing a humorous story for the 2011 Saint Paul Almanac. As was the case a year ago, this pilgrimage has continually been delayed by various calls to other noble duties along the road of life, such as grandparenting, eking out a living through bone-wearying labor in a deli, and maintaining a backyard koi pond and wildlife-friendly yard. He hopes to semiretire next year and mine his rich mother lode of memories of growing up in Saint Paul before his faculties fail him!

Photo of O'Gara's courtesy of Jim Ellwanger. Browse Jim's photostream on Flickr or check out his website at www.ellwanger.tv

Deb dancing with Rince na Chroi (Photo courtesy Deb Pleasants)

“Are you okay?” Emily asked.

Grabbing the ballet barre to support myself, I attempted to stretch out my right leg. My thigh felt like a vise was twisting it tighter and tighter. The pain was so intense, I was afraid to breathe.

“Try walking it off,” Katie suggested.

I hobbled out of the dance room and nearly collapsed on the hallway floor. Through the door, I saw Katie and Emily teaching the rest of my classmates a new jig step. Massaging my cramped leg, I watched those energetic adults and wondered how I, a forty-seven-year-old Black woman with no dance experience, ended up in an Irish dance class.

Considering my fascination with Irish culture, it was inevitable. I often tell people I love all things Irish, especially my husband. When I heard that a nearby Irish dance school offered beginning lessons for adults, I couldn’t resist. I quickly enrolled at Rince na Chroi (pronounced "Rink ah nah Kree") School of Irish Dance located at Concordia University in Saint Paul.

At the first class, director Katie Stephens Spangler and assistant director Emily Wolff stunned the neophytes by saying “all students are required to perform.” They mentioned several other important things, but most of their words collided with a nagging voice in my head. “I can’t dance on a stage. The audience is going to laugh at me. They’ll take one look at me and think, ‘She’s old; she’s out of shape; she’s off-step; she’s . . . Black.’”

Four months after that excruciating leg cramp, I was standing on the center stage in downtown Saint Paul’s Landmark Center. It was the annual Day of Irish Dance/St. Patrick’s Day celebration. Thousands of people blanketed the main floor; hundreds more lined the balconies. And there I stood with my class, in our school-crested outfits and our curly wigs, ready to dance.

The band began to play. After months and months of practice, the beat was so familiar that I immediately began to lose myself in the music. The audience faded away and I danced—I danced as the saying goes, “like no one was watching.”

After my dance, I stood near the stage and watched the advanced dancers perform. The precision of their choreography and footwork was artistic. While I was standing there, a burly Irish man walked up to me. “Hi, I saw you dance earlier,” he said.

“Oh really,” I replied, wondering what he would say next.

“Yeah, you were really great,” he said. “My buddy and I both thought you were great.”

“Thank you,” I said with a smile. I walked off beaming with pride.

Sláinte!

Deb Pleasants is a full-time wife/mother and part-time writer/journalist. She often writes for the Twin Cities Daily Planet. She also writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction. When not Irish dancing, Deb enjoys biking, camping with her family, and attempting to solve The New York Times crossword puzzle. She’s lived in Saint Paul’s Lex-Ham community since 1998.

Winter owl imprint. (Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

Diane Wilson is a prose writer whose memoir, Spirit Car: Journey to a Dakota Past (Borealis Books, 2006), won a 2006 Minnesota Book Award. Her work has been featured in the anthology Fiction on a Stick (Milkweed Editions) and many other publications. She is a past editor for Minnesota Literature, former board chair of SASE: The Write Place, and the founder and editor of The Artist’s Voice.

Tish Jones

When I was born
There was movement still

Lines
Paths
Roads
Circles
And tracks

Check it
I had my first perm in elementary school
Went from coarse
Curly black hair
To straight
Thin
Then what you gon’ do with this ’do

After that I did braids
Weave
Ponytails
Extensions
This faux hawk Mohawk ducktail design on the side type thing
But before all of that
I also wore
Tracks

Then there was high school
Saint Paul Central
Big gray five floor and a basement building
Kinda looks like a prison kinda ran like one too

The fifth floor was for the academic acronyms like AP and IB
The fourth floor was for the quest learners
Second to the best grade point average earners
The third
Well the third was whatever
The second was pass
And the first was primarily the theatre class
How we were placed in this system
Tracks

Pause

My name is Tish Jones and I have been called here to represent

Ancestors
Whose blood sift through the palms of my little brother’s hands
As he plays in the sand and they bless him
Forefathers
Who existed before my four fathers
And raised men to raise men
Hence the sun and the raisin
Then
A generation of beautiful black women
Born and bred to believe that beauty belongs to everyone but them
So
They dye and they fry and they try to fit in
In many ways allowing trains to leave tracks on their thighs
Because the tracks attached to the root of her naps which hang to the mid of her back
Reduce self-respect and she is alright with that
They call her a runner
Making laps on laps
Known as a track star
The best at her craft and she
Is right on
Track

Then
There is the little boy whose father was sent away yesterday
He’s having a bad day so he answered the test questions in the wrong way
Now he’s in the hallway with extra help
Frustrated
Fighting to keep his tears to himself
And she
Well she’s lived in the inner city since the beginning
Light skin
Long hair
And just a little bit skinny
Smart
She makes failing a test seem hard
Don’t believe me peep her report card

Well
She and he were cool
Went to the same school
Hung in the same crew
Did things that two best friends would normally do
Until one day after taking that test
She got labeled advanced and he got labeled a fool
Dropped outta school and did what he felt he had to
Became a star mathematician
A genius in the kitchen
Studied how different greens and whites would help with his addition
Financial advisor for women
Pimpin’ and flippin
Now
He fights his tears inside of a prison

Pause

Forget it
Play track black boy
Or football or basketball
Or just ball black boy
Rob steal fail get money and go to jail
You do the same black girl
Read Cosmo People VIBE and Vixen
Try all your life to find the place that you fit into

You see I represent broken histories
Missing texts from textbooks
Kinesthetic learners that don’t test good
Products of society
Twenty-four hours of good clean sobriety
A language that I play with because mine was taken
And a country that shuns me yet I have so much stake in it

A people
That are a direct result of an action taken
And people who fear those people so they’ve created laws to evade and contain them
Inside of lines
Paths
Roads
Circles
And tracks

My name is Tish Jones
And I have been called to represent the missing piece

Tish Jones is the founder, executive, and artistic director of a developing nonprofit arts organization, TruArtSpeaks. She teaches performance art and creative writing in Twin Cities area schools, as well as in prisons and at other facilities with youth programming. She is a spoken word artist, activist, educator, and organizer, and a 2009 Recipient for the Verve Grant for Spoken Word Poets and the MN Urban Griot Award for Female Spoken Word Artist of the Year. Tish collaborated with filmmaker Rachel Raimist in 2009 on a spoken word and film project funded by the Minnesota State Arts Board, State of the Cities.

(Photo courtesy Patricia A. Cummings)

The Uptown’s place in our family story began in the early 1930s. My dad, Verne Cummings, had started in the movie theater business as an usher when he was fifteen and worked his way up to a “plum” assignment as the manager of the Uptown. One of Dad’s best managerial decisions was to hire Esther Lindgren as a cashier. They married on June 15, 1936.

My first memory of the Uptown was going to see Disney’s Bambi when I was about four. I saw lots of movies—as many as three a week. Sometimes I got to sit in the projection booth with the operator. Often, I’d go with Dad to the theater in the morning, when he “did the books.” In his office was a set of wooden cubbyholes—the repository for everything left behind in the auditorium. We got first pick of anything that wasn’t claimed after thirty days, so we always had a colorful supply of mittens and scarves.

Described in an ad in 1929 as “Distinctly in a class by itself,” the Uptown was a palace to my young eyes. There was a grand Ladies Lounge upstairs with sofas and dressing tables and a maid in attendance. The doorman’s job was to turn the wheel on the ticket box to grind out the tickets. He and the ushers wore uniforms with epaulets and lots of gold buttons. I always had a small-girl crush on one or another of them.

The Uptown was the first theater in Saint Paul to have air-conditioning. Down in the cavernous and spooky basement, an artesian well pumped cold water into a series of pipes. As the water fell from the pipes, huge fans blew through the rain to cool the air in the auditorium.

During World War II, Dad served in the Army in Europe. After the war, he chose to stay with the familiar and went back to the Uptown. We kids, now numbering three, resumed our three-movies-a-week routine.

When I was fourteen, I started working at the Uptown as the popcorn girl. I made the popcorn in a little upstairs room and carried it down to the candy counter. When the theater was remodeled in the 1950s, the clouds and stars disappeared, the Ladies Lounge became a utilitarian restroom, and Dad’s office was moved downstairs. The popcorn machine was moved downstairs, too, and I worked behind the expanded candy counter.

At sixteen, I was promoted to the box office. Adult tickets cost twenty-five cents and kids got in for twelve cents. At the end of each shift, the cashiers had to reconcile ticket sales to the money taken in. Dad was a stickler for accuracy. More than once, I “padded the books” with some of my own change so that my numbers came out equal.

With the advent of television, the movie business declined and the Minnesota Amusement Company sold the Uptown to an independent owner who drastically cut Dad’s salary. Dad decided it was time to develop a new career. While he studied for his license to become a real estate agent, Mother split the manager’s job with him at the Uptown. By the late 1950s, Dad was ready to launch his new business. We all said good-bye to the Uptown with regret for the loss of this fixture in our lives, but also anticipation for the next step in our family’s journey.

Patricia Cummings grew up in Nativity Parish. After graduating from St. Catherine’s College, she taught English, married, and had three children. Pat then spent twenty-five years in the field of philanthropy, most recently as the executive director of the Phillips Foundation. Now retired, Pat spends much of her time volunteering in the community and writing.

(Photos courtesy Saint Paul Public Library)

The St. Anthony Park Library is unique because of its architecture. The original library, now the adult-teen section, was part of a Carnegie Library built in 1917. It has been updated, and a children’s section, built in the shape of a large dome, was attached to the old building. When I was little, I thought the library used to be a church because it was so fancy and so old.

The St. Anthony Park Library in the 1920s.

The St. Anthony Park Library is warm and friendly because of its librarians. They aren’t just people who work there; they are people who love and care about the books, and this makes all the difference. They help me find books that are playing hide and seek with me, and they recommend books they think I might enjoy.

A luxury of the Saint Paul Public Library is that it has a very effective hold system. I can just go online, sign in using my PIN number and the number on my library card, and I can put any book on hold that is in any of the branches of the library system. When the book and I are ready, I can just go and pick it up. It’s very efficient.

An Asian Fair held at St. Anthony Park Library in the 1950s.

When we returned after more than a year of being away from the library, I dramatically forced my mom to drive through the freezing winter winds to my much-missed St. Anthony Public Library. I was so happy! Books again! Mom thinks we checked out about twenty-five books; I think we checked out more.

To me, a good library feels as important as water and an exciting book feels like air. To me, the St. Anthony Park library feels like home.

Maxine Lightfoot was born in Indiana, and her full name is Maxine Indiana Lightfoot. She lives in Saint Paul and attends St. Anthony Park Elementary School. Her favorite color is turquoise, and if she had three wishes, they would be world peace, no animals would become extinct, and mosquitos wouldn’t bite. She is the oldest child in her family.

The Saint Paul Almanac partners with the Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, a private, nonprofit, membership organization established in 1945 to support the Saint Paul Public Library. Today, The Friends boasts a membership of close to 3,000 individuals. The Friends' mission is to increase the use of the Library through public awareness and cultural programming; to advocate for strong public funding of the Library; and to provide private funding to enhance Library services. Through this work, The Friends serves as a national model for its unique, comprehensive support of the Saint Paul Public Library. www.thefriends.org

Saint Paul Mayor Chris Coleman

Mayor Chris Coleman and student photographers Kaying Thao, Tanisha Brandt, and Brittany Andrews from Gordon Parks High School outside the launch party of the 2011 Saint Paul Almanac.

Carol Connolly was appointed by Mayor Chris Coleman as Saint Paul’s first poet laureate. She is a longtime media columnist, and curates and hosts the monthly Readings by Writers series, now in its twelfth year, at the historic University Club of Saint Paul. Her book of poems, Payments Due, is in its fifth printing from Midwest Villages and Voices, a press founded by the late great poet Meridel Le Sueur. Connolly’s new book of poems is All This and More (Nodin Press).

Bao and Noah on their wedding day (Photo: Bao Vang)

Born and raised in the United States, Noah and I are what you could call a typical American couple. But we also treasure our Hmong heritage and wanted to honor our families by following the tradition that has spanned many generations. Although we’ve been engaged for a year, we can’t get married until our families give their official approval and agree on a dowry. There is no guarantee this will happen.

According to tradition, I must be at my mother’s house when the groom and his wedding party arrive, even though I no longer live there. There is no church, no reception hall—the entire negotiation process and feast will take place at my mother’s house. And so, in a 1,600-square-foot rambler, my family is prepared to jam fifty to sixty people.

At 5 p.m., my groom arrives with his best man, or phib laj, and two negotiators, or mej koob. Then his family follows, and must ask if our family is refraining from having guests. After my family allows them inside, the mej koob sing a song to start the ceremony.

There are a number of things Noah and his relatives must offer my family so the ceremony can be recognized as an official wedding. First, the best man carries a basket on his back, filled with items that Noah’s mom woke up extra early to prepare: a boiled, whole chicken, uncooked rice, salt, and oil. There’s a blanket, which Noah carried like a child on his back. They also need to have a black umbrella and several cartons of cigarettes, which would traditionally be smoked during the negotiations—but that will not happen in my mother’s house, she would never allow it. If even one of these items is missing, the ceremony could be called off.

The groom and best man must bow down to my mom and each member of my family to show respect. I had never seen Noah try so hard to get it right.

Before any negotiations begin, we have dinner. On this night, it’s boiled chicken with tofu, broiled fish, and chicken stir-fry. After dinner, more members of Noah’s family are allowed to enter the home, including his father. As our relatives get to know one another, it is finally starting to feel like perhaps we can be one big happy family.

Moments later, my mom and I are summoned downstairs, where about twenty male members of my family are waiting. My father, a Lao veteran who fought alongside the United States during the Vietnam War, passed away when I was a little girl, so these relatives are here to make certain that I am making a good decision and that my family is well-represented in the marriage negotiations. They grill me about my relationship with Noah. They want to make sure I’m not being tricked into marrying someone I don’t truly love. When they are convinced of my commitment, they ask me to leave. Then, they get additional reassurance from my mom.

By 8 p.m., everyone has agreed that Noah and I should be married, but that doesn’t mean we’re done. Now it’s time to talk money—the dowry.

This phase focuses around a coffee table in my mother’s living room, where two representatives from each of our families negotiate. It could take hours, or even days. It may sound old-fashioned, but this is an important part of Hmong tradition. The amount the groom’s side is willing to pay is an expression of appreciation to the bride’s parents for loving, caring for, and educating a young woman.

Before discussing the dowry, however, negotiators decide which members of my family will receive money and how much. This can range from a few hundred dollars to several thousand. It’s traditional to transfer the money wrapped up in cigarettes. When my family accepts the gift, I am officially a part of Noah’s family and my bridesmaid joins the party. She has been chosen for me by Noah’s family, just as they chose a best man for him. Fortunately, my bridesmaid is a woman very dear to me, Noah’s sister, Cheng Feng. She’s told to stay by my side and make certain I’m happy. We’re offered a toast to seal the deal.

And yet, for negotiators, it’s back to the bargaining table: they still have to decide a few more things, including how much my mom will receive in exchange for giving away her daughter, and the date and time of the wedding feast, a more formal celebration we’ll have next month for family and friends.

Several hours have passed, and I confess I’m starting to feel a little emotional. Our families still have not come to an agreement on these final things. My mother must act as both mother and father in these proceedings, and she has turned out to be a tough negotiator.

Noah’s feeling a different kind of pain. “My knees are hurting from all the bowing,” he said. We are reminded by our elders that although we are modern Hmong Americans, these traditions are important to us and our families, so we’ll need to be patient.

Around 1 a.m., twenty-four hours after I started my day, there’s finally an offer on the table that my mother accepts. The dowry money will be counted not once, not twice, but three times by members of the family.

We’re relieved and ready to call it a night, but where we spend our wedding night is up to my in-laws, and my new mother-in-law wants us back home in Wausau with her. So I quickly grab my things and say my good-byes. While my family is happy, it’s a bittersweet moment. For my mom, she’s letting go of her baby. She tells me to go and that I should start my new life. But she wants me to visit and always remember where I came from.

As I leave home, I am a married woman.

I am reminded that I shouldn’t look back with my eyes or my heart as Noah and I begin our own tradition as husband and wife.

Bao Vang is hard at work, while many of you are asleep, as the executive producer and morning anchor at WSAW News Channel 7 in Wausau, Wisconsin. Bao’s family immigrated to the United States in 1978. She was born and raised in Saint Paul and attended Harding High School and the University of St. Thomas.

Mary Peck Laber in her fur coat, sometime in the 1940s (Photo: Rosemary Ruffenach)

Knowing Grandma’s thrifty ways, we theorized that the coat had been remodeled. Why, though, if Uncle Ted had purchased it specifically for his mother, wouldn’t he have ordered the style she preferred? By the 1930s, Ted was flush from running booze down from Canada during Prohibition. He owned a tavern at 1730 Rice Street, and operated various games of chance. (He is said to have once swallowed the pull tabs when the law appeared—though he usually received ample warning of their impending visits.) Grandma managed the adjacent grocery store, and Ted’s brother ran the gas station next door. Surely, Ted could have afforded better than dyed rabbit in the wrong length!

While it’s fun to speculate about how and why Ted got the coat, I mostly like to imagine Grandma wearing it those many winters ago. She was a tough lady who had well earned that small luxury by the time she acquired it.

Widowed at thirty-seven with five young children, Grandma’s best resources were her gregarious personality and a self-reliance she learned early in life. Her family arrived in Saint Paul one cold April afternoon in 1888, when she was thirteen years old, along with sixty other immigrants from Andau, Austria (then Hungary). They were dumped on a Saint Paul sidewalk by their travel “expeditor.” Luckily, a German-speaking citizen came by and offered them sleeping space in an unfinished storefront. The next day, Mary saw the adults pick themselves up to seek housing and work—often at the North End rail yards, or as “domestics.” Much later, she too took work cleaning houses, after her husband, Joseph, a cigar roller, died at age thirty-eight.

Luckily, one of her clients owned a grocery store on Rice Street, and invited Grandma and her children to run his establishment and live in the quarters behind. As the family prospered, Grandma purchased land and an old farmhouse at Rice and Larpenteur, just outside the city limits. In 1937, Grandma and Ted built their own grocery store, as well as a bar, gas station, and living quarters. Today, Laber Liquors still stands at the corner of Larpenteur and Rice, but is no longer owned by the Laber family.

Grandma became well-known in the community, and was often called upon to give nursing advice when someone fell sick. Hopefully, by then she had the fur coat to wear when making those house calls. She likely wore it on days when she would take a little cash out of the grocery store till and board a streetcar for the two-hour trek to North Minneapolis to visit her sister. Another of her favorite haunts was Front Street. It took her grandchildren many years to figure out that Front Street was Calvary Cemetery, where her husband and parents were buried.

The coat undoubtedly kept Grandma warm when she went touring in the Model A owned by son Ted and daughter Martha, as well as in the yellow Stutz Bearcat owned by Ted’s pal Doc Schroeder. Later, Grandma would have worn it while riding in any of Martha’s succession of Packards.

Accessorized in the 1940s with leather gloves and a stylish velvet chapeau, the coat would have graced Grandma’s shoulders during Mass at St. Bernard’s Church in Saint Paul’s North End community (home to Austro-Hungarians and Bohemians), and to meetings at the St. Bernard’s Little Flower Mission Club, as well as visits to her extended family scattered throughout the North End.

You could say the coat really has come down in the world since those days—now riding sedately in my Taurus wagon, left to lie on top of a file cabinet during school hours. The coat may be old and unremarkable, but it’s still warm, and serves as a link to the past and to the vital woman who was my great-grandmother.

Michael Reimringer and Anna Wiemann on their wedding day in November 1880 (Photo: John Reimringer)

Some of my family’s story is written in stone. Much of it is written in air and electrons, words that reached family ears and got stored away in the sometimes faulty circuitry of the brain’s synapses.

Here’s a part that’s written in stone:

My great-great-grandfather, Theodor Wiemann, became a U.S. citizen in Saint Paul in 1856, and owned a saloon and grocery downtown. His grave monument, in the center of the family plot in Calvary Cemetery, is a Gothic fright that sits on the hillside at a slight angle, as though it might fall on its face; the stone is castellated about the top and chemically blackened around the edges to look very old, the height of Victorian fashion. There’s an unremarkable German verse celebrating Theodor carved into the base.

And here’s the rest:

Family legend claims Theodor Wiemann wasn’t happy on the November day in 1880 that his beloved daughter Anna married Michael Reimringer, who not only clerked for Theodor, but boarded with the family. The Mass was celebrated in Assumption, the city’s first German-Catholic parish. The church is still there, the witch hats of its twin steeples a downtown landmark, but Michael Reimringer didn’t fare so well. In 1887, he confirmed his father-in-law’s doubts by cracking his skull in a drunken tumble from a sleigh at the second-ever Winter Carnival. At least according to family legend.

In my ghost hunts, I’ve confirmed that my great-grandfather did indeed die during the 1887 Winter Carnival, but I don’t yet know whether he died at the Winter Carnival. I haven’t found a clipping about a drunken German falling off the back of a sleigh.

And here’s where ghosts get slippery, where what we think we’re seeing may be a reflection of ourselves on some silvered surface. Take the drunken German story. In my family, this was always told with pride, bravado. The Reimringer ancestors lived hard and died stupidly. So when someone asks how long I’ve lived in Saint Paul, I always tell the story as an illustration of a colorful past. But sometimes that colorful story is greeted with a look of horror, and I realize that my listener isn’t seeing the same ghost that I see.

Or take the German part. The Reimringers are from a region on the French-German border kicked back and forth between the two countries in several wars. Yet, my family has always identified as German. As did I, until I received an email from François Reimeringer a few years ago. Turns out the Reimeringer/Reimringer ancestral village was Remering-les-Hargarten in the Lorraine area of France, close to the German border. Turns out Michel Reimeringer added an a to his Christian name and dropped the extra e in his surname sometime between becoming a citizen and sending out wedding invitations.

And we still don’t know if that supposedly drunken French/German was at the Winter Carnival in 1887.

So what’s the truth? It’s a ghost slipping away in a tarnished mirror. But ghosts that tell a good story slip away more slowly.

John Reimringer’s first novel, Vestments, was published by Milkweed Editions in fall 2010. A Fargo, North Dakota, native, Reimringer grew up in Kansas and moved to his father’s family’s hometown of Saint Paul in 2001. He loves Saint Paul, but stays away from the Winter Carnival.

Event curator, Tou SaiKo Lee believes in building an influential movement within the Hmong community through the arts. He is a spoken word artist, mentor and hip hop activist. A mentor for youth at schools and community centers across the country, he speaks about issues that include human rights, diversity, racism, gang violence and arts for social change.

Tou SaiKo Lee

Tou SaiKo Lee is the co-founder of “The H Project” a compilation music CD inspired by the human right violations of Hmong people in the jungles of Laos. On occasion, Tou teams up with his grandmother, Youa Chang ­– who does the traditional Hmong art of kwv txiaj (Hmong poetry chanting) – to perform as the duo “Fresh Traditions.”

Lowertown Reading Jam is on Monday, Feb. 21st, from 7 to 8:30 p.m

Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince St, St Paul, MN (Lowertown Saint Paul)

Spoken Word Performers

Ed Bok Lee
Juliana Pegues
Bao Phi
Saymoukda Vongsay
Kevin Yang
Chanmany Sysengchanh
David Vulocity
Chilli Lor
Laurine Chang
Gaoiaong Vang

Ed Bok Lee is the author of Real Karaoke People, winner of a PEN Open Book Award, an Asian American Literary Award (Members' Choice) and a Many Voices Prize. He attended kindergarten in South Korea, and was raised in North Dakota and Minnesota. Lee has worked a variety of jobs, including bartender, phys ed instructor, salesman, custodian, script writer, journalist and translator, in over a dozen U.S. states and abroad. He studied Russian, East Asian and Central Asian languages and literatures in America, South Korea, Russia and Kazakhstan, before earning an MFA from Brown University. A recipient of grants from such foundations as the McKnight, Jerome and National Endowment for the Arts, he has read and performed his poems across the U.S., Europe and Asia, as well as on public radio and TV, including MTV.

Juliana Pegues is a revolutionary Asian American writer. She collects her political views and experiences and ties them together through her writing and performances. She truly uses art as activism to build community. Her words are combative words to fight social injustice. Throughout Pegues' writing, her strong passion for social change is as evident as it is through her community involvement. She mixes politics, art, and activism in her writing to create a fresh, direct voice. Pegues currently lives in Minneapolis and some of the organizations Pegues is currently involved in include Guerilla Wordfare, Asian American Renaissance, Women's Prison Book Project, and the Garment Workers Justice Campaign.

Bao Phi is a Vietmanese American spoken word poet, writer and community activist living in Minneapolis. He is a two time winner of the Minnesota Grand Poetry Slam, and also won two poetry slams at the Nuyorican Poets Café in New York. Phi is the Associate Program Director at the Loft Literary Center where he curates Equilibrium (EQ for short), a series devoted to spoken word artists and audiences of color. EQ was just named the 2010 Minnesota Nonprofit Award winner for Anti-Racism Initiative.

Saymoukda Vongsay is a co-founding member of The Unit Collective of Emerging Playwrights of Color, author of No Regrets, Chair of the 2010 National Lao American Writers Summit, inaugural winner of the 2010 Alfred C. Carey Prize in Spoken Word from New York, recipient of a Loft Literary Center scholarship to attend Robert McKee's Story Seminar, advisory board member of the 2010 MPLS Asian Film Festival, and was recently recognized by the Lao Professionals of Illinois for her literary accomplishments. Get to know her at www.refugenius.com

Kevin Yang is from Brooklyn Park. He currently attends Hamline University in St. Paul, where is is a part of the Hamline University Slam Team. He loves to write and is always looking for a new way to tell an old story.

Chilli (Chia Lor) graduated with Honors from St. Paul Central High School. She is currently attending her first year of college at St. Catherine Univeristy. As a poet, hip hop artist and b-girl, Chilli has a vision of changing the lives of youth and women through performing arts.

Gaoiaong Vang is seventeen years old, a senior, and student body president at Johnson Senior High School. Although she lives in Forest Lake, her life revolves around Saint Paul. She loves writing poetry, playing tennis, and drinking ice-cold lemonade on a hot summer day. She has dreams of living somewhere beautiful and knows that home is where the heart is—Saint Paul.

At the beginning of February, the online magazine The Line wrote a story on the Saint Paul Almanac, which offers a fantastic overview of the community vision we Almanacians have for our beloved Saint Paul. We reproduce a few excerpts from the article here:

Saint Paul Almanac publisher, Kimberly Nightingale. (Photo: Bill Kelley)

It's a six-year-old labor of love begun by onetime book editor and teacher Kimberly Nightingale, a woman with a mission that goes well beyond providing a handy and entertaining place to record coffee dates and relatives' birthdays. Nightingale sees the book as a model for nothing less than a revolution in American publishing. And her fusion of multiethnic, history-and-culture-rich, hyperlocal storytelling is resonating in places like Los Angeles, Portland, and Pittsburgh; people in a dozen cities across the country have asked her for help in creating their own versions of the Almanac. 

At first, it was a one-woman enterprise. Nightingale hung out in ethnic cafes, talking to people, laying out her ideas, asking for stories. She went to literary events looking for writers. "I was creating relationships, building trust and connections with people all over the city," she says.

Eventually, the connections blossomed into a unique form of democratic editing in which Nightingale works with 20-plus "community editors" who help gather material. Through a system of evaluation, re-evaluation, and voting, the editors decide which stories go in. And then comes the editing itself, about which Nightingale has strong, even revolutionary opinions.

"You only have to go to a literary event to realize that the scene is mostly white-European," she says. "The publishing industry is mostly white-European. And the editing of books is mostly on a white-European standard." Nightingale teaches her diverse group of community editors the basics of the publishing process, but she encourages them to preserve the characteristic rhythms and word choices of the writers, even--or especially--when those writers don't or can't use standard English style.

The point isn't to be quaint--it's to change American publishing. "I dream of the day when every writer with a non-mainstream voice can have an editor who understands where that voice, that rhythm, comes from, and enhances it rather than homogenizes it," she says.

It remains to be seen whether the Almanac will spark an editing revolution, but Nightingale's enterprise is very active on the Saint Paul scene, with a reading and spoken-word-art series and a strong presence in the city's high schools. And it is certainly sparking interest nationwide.

Please visit The Line's website for the full article.

Photo of Kimberly Nightingale by Bill Kelley. Visit Bill's website at www.billkelleyphoto.com

Coming Asia-tasticness on Monday night at the Black Dog in Lowertown!

Lowertown Reading Jam is on Monday, Feb. 21st, from 7 to 8:30 p.m. Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, 308 Prince St, St Paul, MN (Lowertown Saint Paul).

Event curator, Tou SaiKo Lee believes in building an influential movement within the Hmong community through the arts. He is a spoken word artist, mentor and hip hop activist. A mentor for youth at schools and community centers across the country, he speaks about issues that include human rights, diversity, racism, gang violence and arts for social change.

Spoken Word Performers: Tou SaiKo Lee, Ed Bok Lee, Juliana Pegues, Bao Phi, Saymoukda Vongsay, Kevin Yang, Chanmany Sysengchanh, David Vulocity, Chilli Lor, Laurine Chang and Gaoiaong Vang.

Read more about this event.

MORE LOWERTOWN READING JAMS COMING IN 2011

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Check back with us, or join our e-mail list or Twitter feed to be informed of coming events.

• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

New writing from Barbara Cox, Michael Maupin and David Haynes

Barbara Cox: Night Light Hockey at Groveland

During the cold winter months of Saint Paul, there is a mecca that kids of all ages flock to with religious fervor. Mecca is Groveland, the king of neighborhood ice rinks. Drive down St. Clair Avenue anytime day or night, and witness the packed rinks of pickup hockey, toddlers pushing plastic chairs in a circle, and packs of tween girls in huddles, observing packs of tween boys. [Read more]

Michael Maupin: 25 Random Things About Me And Saint Paul

RULES: Once you’ve been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it’s because I want to know more about you. (I was tagged by Kimberly Nightingale, publisher of the Saint Paul Almanac. [Read more]

David Haynes: Sixth-Grade Cookie Competitors

David Haynes, an African American author and St. Louis native, lived in Saint Paul for many years and taught fifth and sixth grade at a downtown public school. He has written several adult novels, and decided to write for younger readers because he found a dearth of works for that age group that were set in this city. Business As Usual tells the story of a cookie-selling enterprise among two rival groups of sixth graders, with a few life lessons about people and economics woven in along the way. [Read more]

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Hockey at Groveland Rink (Illustration: Andy Singer)

Drive down St. Clair Avenue anytime day or night, and witness the packed rinks of pickup hockey, toddlers pushing plastic chairs in a circle, and packs of tween girls in huddles, observing packs of tween boys.

Each year the all-volunteer crew of the Groveland Booster Club erects three rinks on the elementary school playground, surrounded by a track of ice perfect for pulling a tiny skater on a sled. We went there one evening—two adults, our two young sons, and our two-year-old daughter.

The boys, proud of their mini-mite moves, hoped to play with the “big guys” in one of the pickup games. They were in luck. Two junior high–aged girls approached the boys and asked if they’d like to make teams with the others gathered on the rink.

They were elated, of course, and in the ancient tradition of hockey players everywhere, they placed their sticks on the ice. The girls divided the players into teams by selecting sticks by length, one by one. Our boys, ages five and six, became teammates of their father, one of the young women, and an adult couple. Both teams passed to the boys, and cheered them when they scored.

The boys were in heaven. Or Mecca. Sometimes a sparkling night on the ice can be both.

Barbara Cox lives in the Mac-Groveland area with her husband, Joe, and her three young children. She has the kind of zeal for the city often found in those raised in the suburbs. Her favorite spots in the city include Mattocks Park, the River Road bike trail, and Candyland.

Andy Singer is a Saint Paul illustrator who has contributed more amazing images to the Almanac than one could realistically shake a corn dog at. His website can be found at www.andysinger.com

1. The first thing I ever laid eyes on in Saint Paul was the used-car lot with the ski-chalet-looking office on University Avenue, in the early 1970s. While it’s no longer there, I think it was on the avenue’s north side, opposite the SuperTarget.

2. My second earliest memory of Saint Paul is waiting for the 16 bus to Minneapolis when it transferred from the White Bear Lake bus, coming back from college during the dismal winter of 1980. While standing at the corner of Sixth and St. Peter, I thought: “Saint Paul. What a dump.”

3. By 1990, nearly all my friends were living in Saint Paul. So, I moved there on December 7, 1992. By 1999, all my friends had left.

4. I rented a room in a crappy old mansion on Summit Avenue owned by crazy people.

5. Saint Paul is “Grandpa in his garage.” Grandpa doesn’t want you touching his tools or cleaning up his garage—Grandpa doesn’t want you messing around with his garage. Grandpa would prefer that you just go the hell back to Minneapolis, you with your hoity-toity ways, brown leather jackets, and moonshine over F. Scott Fitzgerald’s birthplace.

6. I was an extra in A Prairie Home Companion; greeted John C. Reilly at the door, and was serenaded by Meryl Streep, whose affections I stole from some lurching tall guy in red tennis shoes.

7. I made the acquaintance of a tall, beautiful cottonwood tree in the back alley of the block bordering Milton and Chatsworth, Lincoln and Goodrich. Man, can that old girl sing!

8. Back when The Muddy Pig was Cognac McCarthy’s, I attended a memorial service for the late poet John Engman. Between our tears and laughter, it was an unforgettable night.

9. I temped at Unity Unitarian Church under the late Rev. Roy Phillips, who constantly struggled with column deadlines for the church bulletin.

10. The best burger in Saint Paul (maybe the entire five-state area) is at Casper & Runyon’s Nook on Hamline. Good luck getting a table or spot at the bar. And call your cardiologist first.

11. I once was offered a joint in Irvine Park.

12. Lenny Russo has transformed Highland Park with his wonderful Heartland restaurant. I still miss Merriam Park’s Table of Contents.

13. Yes, I’ve been up the Highland Park Water Tower. You can see Minneapolis from there.

14. Every time I walk by St. Paul Academy and Summit School’s spacious playground on Goodrich, I think of The Zombies’ song “Beechwood Park.”

15. Summit Avenue haunts me. A confluence of past, present, and future, it wends like an arrow toward the Mississippi, attended by tree giants who whisper of age and death and parting sad lovers who take final lunches under their shade.

16. I was a dramaturgy intern at the Great American History Theatre (now History Theatre) under Lynn Lohr and Lance S. Belville in 1991.

17. After six months of living in a one-bedroom behind the Chatterbox (now Costello’s), hearing gang-related gunfire, and receiving infrequent freelance assignments, I moved from Cathedral Hill to Merriam Park, closer to Minneapolis.

18. I once ran into Paul Wellstone at the Hungry Mind. “What’s the news from Washington, Senator?” “Good! Good!” he barked with a grin.

19. My friends Sheldon and Perin live on the East Side. We like to grill their garden veggies, drink Spanish wine, and play bocce in the back yard.

20. On the block where I now live, two blocks south of Grand Avenue, WCCO reporter Pat Kessler often stops to chat while he’s walking his dogs, Shelby and Rupert.

21. I almost bought a co-worker’s condo and moved to downtown Minneapolis.

22. If it came down to either Izzy’s or Grand Ole Creamery, I’m sorry. The prize goes to Izzy’s.

23. I have washed my clothes at the Laundromat on East Selby Avenue.

24. In 2008 I met an amazing woman, just across the courtyard from my place. She loves Saint Paul and seems to like me.

25. Think I’ll stick around awhile longer.

Michael Maupin is a former educator, writer, and managing editor of Minnesota Law & Politics magazine. He has lived in Indianapolis, Washington, DC, Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Iowa City, London, and Glasgow, but he calls Saint Paul home.

David Haynes

My name is Bobby Samson. What this story is about is economics and the West Seventh Wildcats and Kevin Olsen and how sometimes what you think about people and what is real can be two very different things.

There are six of us Wildcats—me, Lu, Tou Vue, Kevin, Johny Vang, and Tony R. We’re not a gang. We just all live near West Seventh Street in Saint Paul and are best friends.

All of us Wildcats are crazy about our sixth-grade teacher. Which is a good thing because there is only one sixth-grade teacher at River Road School, and therefore if you don’t like Mr. Harrison you are pretty much out of luck for a whole year.

April is the time for Mr. Harrison’s end-of-the-year special: his spring economics unit. Kids at River Road wait for six years to be part of it, and it is well worth the wait, you can believe that. . . .

“You are in business!” Mr. Harrison announced. And that’s just what the big assignment was. Mr. Harrison called it the Marketplace Project. . . .

The Wildcats, or at least those of us who were working on the marketplace project together, met over at Tony R’s house for a brainstorming session to figure out what to sell on Marketplace Day. . . .

Finally, the Wildcats decided that our best bet was food. All kids like to eat. We just had to figure out what. . . . And then it was like everyone had the same idea at the same time. Things like that happen when you have really good friends. The idea was sitting right there in front of our faces.

Chocolate chip cookies! . . .

The week before Marketplace Day we put up our advertising posters. Since Mr. Harrison knew it wasn’t a good idea to have everyone out in the hallways at the same time, we drew names to see which teams put up its posters first. The Wildcats were third, which was pretty good. There were still a few prime locations left—like by the gym door and over the drinking fountain by the principal’s office. . . .

Marketplace Day was a big success. “As always!” said Mr. Harrison. Everyone could see how proud he was.

The younger students came to school loaded up with cash—just like we had done when we were in the lower grades. A lot of parents came, too. They bought things to take home for family dessert.

Our booth was set up right next to Jenny Peterson’s group’s [which was also selling chocolate chip cookies]. Both teams had the same idea: everyone [in the group] would come to school dressed alike. Jenny, Tyra, and Kelly wore those old-lady type dresses that are patterned in dots or flowers and have a lot of frills. They had matching bonnets on their heads. The Wildcats wore jeans and our orange and black softball jerseys. It’s the closest thing you can get to an official Wildcats uniform.

Cover art from one of the editions of Business as Usual

By the end of the hour we had sold every single package of Wildcat cookies. There wasn’t one crumb left. Some of the little kids made badges out of the wildcat tags. That day there was a whole school full of West Seventh Wildcats.

When we returned to class, our next job was to count up our money and see if we’d made a profit. . . . We did okay in the money department. We had over forty dollars to divide among the investors. . . .

Jenny Peterson’s group sold about the same amount of cookies, but they made more money than us because their cookies cost less to make.

“Yeah, but ours tasted better,” I said.

“Tell that to the bank,” said Jenny. She always has to have the last word.

Source: David Haynes, Business As Usual (Milkweed Editions, 1997): 3, 31, 37, 39, 43, 95, 115–17

Steve Trimble lives in the Dayton’s Bluff neighborhood on Saint Paul’s East Side. Steve has taught at local colleges and, while he has degrees in history, tries to write books and articles in a way that regular people will enjoy—usually in local newspapers or in Ramsey County History magazine. His house near Indian Mounds Park is filled with books and odd collections mostly garnered at garage sales.

This February 14th, the Saint Paul Almanac welcomes Dr. Goddess to Saint Paul at 6:30 p.m. at Arnellia’s at 1183 University Avenue West, Saint Paul. No cover charge! This event is free!

Dr. Goddess (Kimberly C. Ellis) will star in a 15 character, one-woman show about a young urban woman’s journey into academia. A comedy, grounded in engaging social commentary, this witty show uses dramatic monologues, poetry, music, and African, jazz, Hip Hop dance and sketch comedy. If her uncle, August Wilson, were in the audience, he’d be as proud as the Saint Paul Almanac to sponsor this community-building event.

Kimberly C. Ellis, PhD., affectionately known as Dr. Goddess, is a Scholar of American and Africana Studies, an artist, activist, and entrepreneur who has impressed audiences everywhere.

“ . . . Ellis is among a cadre of women . . . who’ve shown that hip hop, feminism and racial upliftment can co-exist. Dr. Goddess is a promising and fulfilling new recipe for black theater’s future.”

—Brentin Mock, Diary of a Baaaaad Black Woman, Pittsburgh City Paper

Arnellia’s at 1183 University Avenue West, Saint Paul

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(Photo: Alex Lazara/Flickr Creative Commons)

W. A. Alexander is a Saint Paul–born and bred writer who will probably never shake his hometown. He is a graduate of the University of Minnesota, Morris, and is looking into graduate school. He currently resides in Northeast Minneapolis.

Ice photo courtesy of Alex Lazara. Browse Alex's photostream on Flickr or visit his website at www.alexlazara.com

Mickey's Diner on West Seventh Street. (Illustration: Andy Singer)

“We’re going someplace special,” she told me as I cranked up the seat warmers and fell asleep on that cold winter night. It was a short drive and she woke me up and dragged me out of the car.

“Alright, so where is this place?” I said in my half-asleep sort of way.

“We’re here,” she replied, as she turned the corner and walked the small steps into the RV-like restaurant. She’d already opened the door halfway when she realized I wasn’t behind her. “Are you coming?” she said, with one eyebrow up and that smug look on her face that only moms can do. It said, Oh, you weren’t hungry; that’s funny, because you were complaining the whole car ride.

“Mom, that’s a car, not a restaurant,” I said, thinking of reasons why we would eat in a flashy RV. But the door was still open and I could hear the conversation of happy customers, so I swallowed my pride and walked in. It smelled good. Not like the smell of gas where it smells great for a few seconds, and then you start coughing. And I know this isn’t the best advertisement, but it smelled like grease, hamburgers, French fries, hash browns, and milkshakes. A million sights, smells, and colors in one place.

I sat down in a booth with the old-time boom box right beside me. I played with it and looked at my mom. She still had the I win expression on her face. When the waiter came, I was scared. She had tattoos and her hair was pulled back in a do-rag, but I couldn’t help but smile when she started making fun of my posture. “You need some help sitting up there, kid?” she asked with a smile. Without realizing it, I had started slouching. I crossed my arms with less attitude than intended, sat up, and let Mom order for me. “What would you recommend?” my mom said, as she glanced at the menu.

The waitress picked up the menu and said, “Okay, so what’s the most expensive thing on here . . . ” just loud enough for us to hear. We laughed, and then she spoke again with a grin on her face. “Alright, I guess the shakes and cheeseburgers are good, and everyone loves the hash browns, as long as you leave a big tip.”

My mom replied quickly before I could object. “We’ll have that,” she said, flashing a grin in my direction.

Let’s just see how good this stuff is, I thought. I got my plate. A feast of cheeseburger, hash browns, and milkshake awaited me. After about twenty seconds, hunger overcame pride and I dug in. This was the best cheeseburger and hash browns I had ever had! And I don’t mean it as in when you go to a fast-food restaurant for the first time and say that was so good. It was, well, wow. The milkshake was creamy and chocolatey, the hash browns crisp, and the cheeseburger meaty-cheesy goodness, and just how I like it. I looked up again.

My mom was absolutely terrified. I, a seven-year-old, had just eaten a plate of hash browns and sucked a whole milkshake, yes, with whipped cream, down into my belly. I licked my lips and took a French fry from my mom’s plate, her mouth still dropped. I raised my hand. “Bill, please,” I shouted over the men at the far table. But when you’re eating the best burgers in Saint Paul—no, Minnesota—I guess this story really isn’t an unusual experience.

Mickey’s Dining Car
36 West Seventh St.
651.222.5633
www.mickeysdiningcar.com

Browse listings for Breakfast & Diners in our Saint Paul Almanac City Guide.

Sebastian Tippett attends Saint Paul Public Schools and is in seventh grade.

Andy Singer is a Saint Paul illustrator who has contributed many amazing images to the Almanac. His website can be found at www.andysinger.com

Mural at Hmong Garden. (Photo: Liren Chen/Flickr Creative Commons)

Kathleen Vellenga found history tedious when young—nothing more than dates of battles. Then, as she lived history, the stories caught her. She convinced her small church to sponsor a refugee family through International Institute of Minnesota, and thus the first Hmong family to come to the Twin Cities through an agency arrived in February 1976.

Photo courtesy of Liren Chen. Browse Liren's photostream at http://www.flickr.com/photos/lirena/

The Winter Medallion Hunt (Photo: Bryan Kennedy/Flickr Creative Commons)

The scramble begins. The quickest gets the matching gloves. Snowsuit on . . . wool socks on . . . boots on . . . I just need a hat and gloves. A lone glove lies on the wood floor in the entryway. Where’s its mate? Hats, scarves, and mismatched gloves fly out of the wicker basket.

“Ah ha!” It sits at the bottom calling to its twin.

I’m ready, we’re set, let’s go!

We pile into the minivan, shovels in the back. The 1990 Dodge Caravan is slow to heat up.

“Here we go! Let’s read the last clue again. Let’s make sure it’s Como.” The last clue is read aloud. Mom puts the caravan into drive, and we slowly roll across the packed, icy snow covering the road.

The best part about searching for the Winter Carnival medallion isn’t the digging. No, at age eight I prefer to lie in the snow or sit and watch the people shoveling around us.

“Wait! What’s this?” Mom’s shoveling pauses. She reaches down. Her heart fills with glee, only to be disappointed. “Oh, never mind.” But the voice remains positive.

I sink deeper into the snow.

Hours pass, the fun is over. My sweat turns into a cold chill. The sun begins to drift downward and head for the horizon. I did my part. I shoveled; I dug around with my hands. Now, I want to go home and strip off my layers of clothing. I want to watch TV and sip hot chocolate.

“Mom! Can we go yet?”

“Just a little longer, honey.”

The woman never tires. Just yesterday she was hunting, and tomorrow she will do it again. A never-ending treasure hunt, at least, until the Pioneer Press Treasure Hunt medallion is found. Then we must wait for next year.

It’s a continual cycle of disappointment. Our hopes are dashed when smiling faces cover the front page of the Pioneer Press. No worries. We’ll find it next year.

Brie Goellner currently attends Boston University. Although she loves the city of Boston and its rich history, nothing beats coming back to Saint Paul. The people and the streets are amazing. Lying on the grass at a Saint Paul park and looking up at the stars is a favorite pastime.

Epic medallion hunt images courtesy of Bryan Kennedy. Browse Brian's photostream on Flickr at www.flickr.com/photos/bryankennedy/

Martin Luther King, Jr. (Photo: Dick DeMarsico, World Telegram staff photographer/Library of Congress)

Gathering in St. Paul 40 years after Selma,
the speakers’ arms pump and flail;
the voices of the preacher and senator ring out
and we step into the stream like revelers,
cheerful on the buoyant morning,
walking the half-mile from Central High School
to Concordia College.

W. Rayford Johnson blares directions through the bullhorn.
At the end of each row, the Million Man Marchers
walk sentry in their black jackets
with the letters, M.A.R.C.H:
Men Are Responsible for Cultivating Hope.
We are all here to protect that frail plant.

My friend links arms with her granddaughters.
I hold the hands of grandchildren muffled in mittens
and scarves. They can’t see over
the crowd, but they know this
is leading them to cookies.

Behind us men start singing, We Shall Overcome,
holding the banner of the A. Phillip Randolph Institute
in memory of the man who organized the railway porters.
In front of us, Jews in their yarmulkes
join in stoutly. The blind are tapping their canes.

I take up the anthem.
We’re singing out and marching like Martin:
We are not afraid
We’ll walk hand in hand
The whole wide world around
But even as I’m singing,
the minor keys gather round the high note
and start the descent, the sadness
always there

in the heart of January,
in a song of someday.

Norita Dittberner-Jax is a poet whose work has been widely published. She has an abiding love for Saint Paul, having been raised in Frogtown, taught English in its schools, and continues to live in this lovely city. Her books of poems include The Watch and What They Always Were.

(Photo: Cp'n Monky/Flickr Creative Commons)

On the coldest day of the year,
a man stepped onto the 21 bus

carrying a vase of lilies, shell
pink, tall as a child in his arms.

He sat behind the driver
with the flowers in his lap.

A lady said, They’re beautiful.
He replied, They’re from a funeral.

Each of us had clutched our thumbs
inside our mittens and swayed,

kept our shoulders up, rubbed
our cheeks, and leaned into the street,

willing the bus to float toward us
from the horizon. But we didn’t

wade up the aisle and press
our arms around his shoulders. No

one touched his cheek and said,
I know. Outside, the sun

made glitter of the road, and
nothing grew. It was like in church

when everyone at once says
and forgive us. People

cram together, almost
touching, but nobody touches.

We rode, wrapped
in wool and silence,

past sealed houses
and their plumes of steam.

Carolyn Williams-Noren’s poems, including one nominated for a Pushcart Prize, have been published in Spoon River Poetry Review, Seems, and Literary Mama. The event that inspired “Still Life, St. Paul” took place in Saint Paul. She now lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two daughters.

Lillies photo courtesy Cp'n Monky. Browse Cp'n Monky's photostream on Flickr.

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The January presentation of the eclectic series, curated by May Lee-Yang, offers an intimate look at works in progress by multidisciplinary artists. The Reading Jam will be presented on Monday, January 10, 2011 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Café, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July 2011.

May Lee-Yang (Photo: Ann Marsden)

“Perhaps they don’t share these parts of themselves because, like most artists I know, they are perfectionists who are waiting to be done with their projects. But I’ve always been fascinated by the unfinished tidbits, the ideas that are still in the process of being created, essentially, in works-in-progress.” May Lee-Yang curated an evening that features multi-talented people as they share works that have never been seen in the public sphere before.

About the Artists

Sun Mee Chomet has worked with the Guthrie Theater, Mu Performing Arts, History Theater, Penumbra Theater and many other theaters locally and nationally. As a playwright, her first play, “Asiamnesia,” was voted Best New Script of 2008 by the Minneapolis Star Tribune. She is currently working on a new play about her relationship with her Jewish grandfather. Chomet received her M.F.A. in Acting from New York University's Tisch School of the Arts and her B.A. in Sociology and Anthropology from Earlham College.

Reginald Edmund is a Many Voices Fellow (2009-2011) playwright originally from Houston, TX, where he was Artistic Director for the Silver House Theatre, as well as the founder and producer for the Silver House Playwrights Festival and the Houston Urban Theatre Series. Reggie was the inaugural recipient of the Kennedy Center Fellowship at Soul Mountain Retreat and the 2009 National Runner-up for the Lorraine Hansberry and Rosa Parks Playwriting Award. He received his MFA in playwriting at Ohio University under the guidance of Charles Smith. His play Southbridge, which was presented in May 2010 at the Last Frontier Theatre Conference in Valdez, AK, was named winner of the 2011 Southern Playwrights’ Competition.  Edmund is a co-founding Playwright of The Unit Collective, a collective of playwrights of color.

Ellen Marie Hinchcliffe is a poet, performer and video maker whose work includes: “Dirty the Bones—on being white and other lies...” performed at Intermedia Arts, and Bedlam Theater (and was accepted into The Los Angles Women's Theater Festival) and “Death's Daughter—a love letter, a prayer for Mama” that premiered at Pangaea World Theater in November 2010.  She is currently working on a documentary about the late, great writer/thinker Paula Gunn Allen, and her video short, “Art Letter—For Gabrielle Civil” will premiere on Twin Cities Public Television this December.

Julian Hines was born in the Twin Cities as a second generation Jamaican-American. Starting his artistry late in high school, he competed in drama and poetry forensics and founded his school’s first Step/Drill Team. He performs in various disciplines including dance, theater, and spoken word. In addition to his work mentoring inner city and south metro youth, Julian has shared and performed in local public venues, schools, theaters, colleges, and in Japan.

May Lee-Yang is a playwright, poet, prose writer, and performance artist from Saint Paul, Minnesota. She has been hailed by Twin Cities Metro Magazine as “on the way to becoming one of the most powerful and colorful voices in local theater.” Her theater-based works include “Confessions of a Lazy Hmong Woman”, “Ten Reasons Why I’d Be a Bad Porn Star”, “Sia(b)”, “Stir-Fried Pop Culture”, and “The Child’s House.” She has received grants from the National Performance Network, the Midwestern Voices and Visions Residency Award, the Minnesota State Arts Board, the Playwright Center Many Voices Program, and Intermedia Arts’ Naked Stages Performance Art Program. In her 9 to 5 life, she is the Interim Executive Director at Hmong Arts Connection (HArC).

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009, and they have been steadily gaining in popularity as excited audiences spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted.

The entire 2010-2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:
Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 21, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Recently released in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

The process of creating a new Saint Paul Almanac each year is an epic community journey that begins with a simple call like this one—to writers and aspiring writers everywhere—to submit essays, poems, reviews, recipes, and short stories about Minnesota's capital city, Saint Paul.

 Each year, the call is heard by literary giants, everyday residents, kids, grandparents, journalists, new Americans, lovers of Saint Paul who now live in other corners of the world...and the submissions start pouring in.

As pens dart across paper and fingers clatter on keyboards in corner cafes here and around the world, the Almanac gets to work with a team of 21 community editors of diverse backgrounds that include 4 professional editors/writers. Seven of the 21 community editors are high school students.

In 14 three-hour meetings, the community editor team is commissioned to determine collectively what ends up in the Saint Paul Almanac. Our writing workshop method is the same process universities use to strengthen writers’ and editors’ skills. Critiquing other peoples’ writing in a group environment and defending that analysis enhances one’s own writing and editing abilities.

Each of the 450 submissions to the Almanac is carefully reviewed by the community editors, who select the 100-plus pieces to be included in the new edition. All pieces are read with author names removed. Even Garrison Keillor's work is reviewed anonymously!  

At the last few meetings, the top-rated 200 pieces are reviewed one more time. As a result of the workshop process, new community editors’ concepts of quality and inclusivity are refined. Apprentices often re-rate work that early on in the process they rated differently.

A Saint Paul Almanac community editors meeting at the Black Dog cafe in Lowertown, St. Paul

The final Almanac that is crafted from this collaborative community process is both a literary campfire around which the diverse community of Saint Paul has gathered to share stories, and a year-round calendar and guide designed to take the curious urban adventurer through a year of seasons in Minnesota’s capital city. 

In our partnership with the Saint Paul Public Schools, 2,000 high school students receive a copy of the Almanac as part of their social studies curriculum, returning the Almanac to the young members of the community to begin the process again.

For more information about how to submit to the Almanac, see:

http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/submissions/

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About the Almanac

The Saint Paul Almanac is a literary campfire around which people gather to share their St. Paul stories, poetry, fiction, and recipes as well as a guidebook to Minnesota's capital city, its festivals, exhibits and more!

The Almanac's generous sponsors and partners include the City of Saint Paul's Cultural STAR program, McKnight Foundation, Mardag Foundation, Bigelow Foundation, Saint Paul Foundation, Metropolitan Regional Arts Council (MRAC), Lowertown Future Fund, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, SPPS, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Black Dog Café, Clouds in Water Zen Center, Twin Cities Daily Planet, A to Z Gallery, and KFAI.

Crosby Farm Regional Park (Photo: DonJuanDeMacro/Flickr Creative Commons)

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

I first set foot on Crosby Lake land in the late 1950s, when I was twelve years old and trailed my neighbor, Alex Hauwiller, on foot through a landfill just off Seventh Street on what was then Leland Street and followed a leaf-strewn trail to the lake’s flooded shore. Some fifty feet out rested flood-remnant lumber that had perhaps once been the deck of a riverfront home—and so, because my neighbor wore hipboots and I did not, Alex carried me on his back to the platform, from which we fished with cane poles for several hours, catching a nice meal of perch, sunnies, and crappies.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

My next magical visit to Crosby Lake came the following winter, when, amid gently falling snow, I followed my neighbor Alex again out onto the now-frozen lake, on my first-ever ice-fishing endeavor. The huge booming sounds of new ice forming underfoot froze me in my tracks, yet Alex walked fearlessly on, turning at last to assure me that the ice was safe and the rumbling sounds simply those of new ice forming beneath us. Again that day, we took home a nice meal of fish, mostly crappies and even a few small northerns.

(Photo: Tom Westbrook/Flickr Creative Commons)

And so Crosby became the destination on weekends beyond number for similar fishing trips as well as exploratory hikes, and I came to know the entire layout of the abandoned farmland surrounding the lake, once owned by Thomas Crosby but now reduced to unmaintained, tax-delinquent city property. While Crosby was the site of many illegal beer parties and a drop-off site for many stolen cars, it was also a haven for wildlife, including an unbelievable variety of bird species. I learned to become a birder over years of hiking all about Crosby, and I learned about the little Crosby lake as well, which, though small, was unbelievably deep. I came to a deeper appreciation of the area’s floodplain tree mix and the varying seasonal beauty that turned the area into a bejeweled gem of nature.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

I am ecstatically reassured to know that Crosby Farm Park will continue to be there for new generations of young boys and girls looking for wildness in—of all places—the heart of our rivertown city!

Gordy Palzer’s quest to be a serious writer has continually been delayed by various calls to duty along the road of life. Over the years, he has kept his writing skills honed through the penning of countless personal letters and several published articles. Encouraged by having made it into Saint Paul Almanac, Gordy plans on further mining the rich mother lode of memories he has just scratched into with his piece on Crosby Lake.

Winter Crosby Farm Regional Park photo courtesy Tom Westbrook. Browse Tom's photostream on Flickr. Summer photo courtesy DonJuanDeMacro. Browse Don's photostream on Flickr.

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Marge Sieland, director, talks with children at Margaret Playground, St. Paul, 1966. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

I am thankful my grandparents were caught in those hockey goals so many years ago. Because of them, we meet as a family every Friday night at their house. From across Johnson Parkway on a dark evening, you can see their house lit up and the cars of my family members parked outside. Inside, there’s a din of laughter, shouting, and several simultaneous conversations. There will always be pizza, and my Italian father and my Greek grandfather drinking red wine. “How the heck are ya?” my grandpa will exclaim, and I go over, give him a big hug, and kiss the top of his bald head.

Like many, I hold onto what I consider the essence of the East Side. I also fear that time will bring about the end of those things we hold dear. Whether it’s the old brick structures of the Hamm’s Brewery or simple Friday night family customs, we worry about having to say goodbye to those things we consider traditions.

But if there’s one crucial thing I have learned about the East Side of Saint Paul, it’s that our story is just as much about how we have learned to adapt to change as about the traditions we keep. European settlers first flourished in the area around what’s now known as Phalen Creek. The ravine became home to so many Swedish immigrants that it was known as Swede Hollow. Later, Irish, Italians, and Mexicans lived there as well. Homes were tucked wherever there was space, and outhouses were built over the creek. The hollow was basically a slum, but it was also a place that new Americans could call home. Someday they would move “up on the street,” as the Swedes did before them. Today, if you walk across from Yarusso’s and look down into the hollow, you may be able to hear the faint echoes of Italian songs, concertinas, and the rustle of grape vines blowing in the breeze.

Theodore Hamm, 1880. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

Above the hollow, businesses like the Harvester Works, the Gypsum Company, 3M, Whirlpool, and the railroads eventually became important employers and contributors to the development and character of the neighborhood. Immigrants established new communities like Railroad Island. While the old and new immigrants were sometimes at odds, each gained their footing and could not survive without one another.

In time, the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves was replaced by the whine of streetcars and the putter of automobiles. Payne Avenue became the East Side’s main drag, with restaurants, bakeries, delis, and clothing stores offering anything you needed.

When the Great Depression came, my grandma said so many people shared in the experience of being poor that no one realized how poor they actually were! President Roosevelt became a hero who put people back to work with such efforts as the Civilian Conservation Corps.

Many East Siders went off to fight World War II, while those staying home held scrap drives and took over the positions vacated by soldiers. When the war ended, the East Side saw a boom of prosperity and babies. This period of growth and development lasted until the 1980s, when production and manufacturing facilities began to shut down. Many who had worked on the East Side for most of their lives were forced to look for jobs elsewhere. Structures like the Whirlpool building became vast, empty husks. Traditional East Siders who remained began to see new waves of immigrants.

Governor Wendell Anderson signing a document, left to right: Bruce Vento, John Chenoweth, Anderson, Randy Kelly, 1976. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

The family of East Side residents Pang Toua Yang and Mai Vang, about 2000. From the Minnesota Historical Society's Open House exhibit, which looked at the 50 families that lived in one particular house in Saint Paul's East Side over 118 years.

Old-timers may mourn the loss of the East Side’s smaller shops, but newer markets have sprouted up to take their place. At Ying’s Corner Express Foods on Seventh and Kennard, Ying is always there with a smile, sending you off with your groceries and a happy heart. You can find similar experiences awaiting you at Chiang Mai Deli & Foods on Maryland, the mercados on Payne, and Pastor Hamilton’s Barbeque on Seventh.

W. B. Martin Lumber Company, 1291 East Seventh Street, St. Paul, ca. 1925 (Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

There may come a Friday when we no longer meet at my grandparents’ house on Johnson Parkway and when I no longer kiss my grandpa’s bald head. But we have been blessed with memories and must look forward to making new ones. We should smile when we see other families celebrating East Side traditions of their own.

So do your part in holding onto the East Side, create new traditions, visit the local businesses, and get to know its workers and owners. And the next time you are at Ying’s, tell him I said hi.

Tony Andrea is a travel videograinpher, educator, and proud East Sider. While his travels have brought him on many unique adventures, he claims that the more he travels, the deeper his roots grow into the East Side of Saint Paul. Furthermore, he is always available to help his hometown in any way he can!

Historical photos courtesy Minnesota Historical Society Collections. For more information about the Historical Society's exhibit, Open House: If These Walls Could Talk, see http://www.mnhs.org/exhibits/openhouse/

United Hospital (Handout photo)

Just before I learned the news
I realized all you have meant to me
and I thought I had too much feeling
to continue to see and spend time with you.
Then they told me I had a brain tumor
and it had to come out. Damage had happened.
Seizure and aura, the grey dome of the growth
or a cathedral lit at the top where the cross is. Flora wrote
so much of life we find in the funniest places.

Boundaries. Love.
Bone, cutting, and stitches.
More blood than the surgeon had ever ordered.
I knew I needed your help
for the children, the family I might have to leave.

I am writing to say I can make the changes.
I am writing to say I have been opened and closed.
I am writing to say that today when the nurse came
to change my dressing,
she glanced up and said, “Oh, look, is that snow?”
We looked out the window and saw it together,
first flakes,
those white, fringed birds
flying,
the first snow of the new season.

Patricia Kirkpatrick lives in Saint Paul and teaches at Hamline University, where she edits poetry for Water-Stone Review. Her book of poetry is Century’s Road. Recent poems have appeared on Saint Paul sidewalks through the Everyday Poem Project and in the anthology The Poets’ Guide to Birds.

Adult Bald Eagle flying above downtown St. Paul and over the Mississippi River (Photo: Derek Bakken/Flickr CC)

On the south shoreline
   of the Mississippi
       in Saint Paul
           one black eagle
               breaks the tree line
                   pins down two o’clock
                       on the last day
                           of an encroaching decade
                               drops down like New Year’s ball
                                   scatters river gulls
                                       like rough confetti
                                           over cobalt
                                               currents

Donna Isaac, a poet and teacher, has an MFA from Hamline University. Raised in Virginia, her poems often incorporate Commonwealth landscapes as well as those of her now snowier Minnesota home. Recent publications are Tommy, a chapbook from Red Dragonfly Press; poems in the Minnesota Arboretum calendar, 2010–11; Writers Rising Up; Pisgah Review, Brevard College; and Juked. Visit her website at www.DonnaIsaacPoet.com

Eagle photo courtesy of Derek Bakken. Browse Derek's photostream on Flickr.

Welcome to the tenth edition of the Saint Paul Almanac's blog, the Pig's Eye Post! This will be our last blog post for 2010. We'll resume in the new year. As always with the Almanac, your contributions are very welcome. If there are major events or news taking place that you think we should be paying attention to, please drop us a line.

Christmas 2010: Even Santa has to get his sleigh inspected at the airport! (Photo: SwingShoes.net)

If you're looking for things to do with your family or significant other over the next week, definitely browse the Almanac's Saint Paul Calendar. There's open family skating outside the Landmark Center, a ton of great theater and exhibits, downtown jazz and open mike poetry at the Artists' Quarter, Trampled by Turtles band members at the Turf Club and more...

NEW WRITING FROM TOM HAAS, RICHARD BRODERICK AND SUAD AROUNI

The Como Lake Community Christmas Tree

By Tom Haas
Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, something magical happens at Como Lake. Just off the side of the walking path stands a huge pine tree, and one by one, Christmas tree ornaments begin to appear on the branches. These are not the expensive, trendy decorations that you see for sale in matched, color-coordinated sets. No, some of these are the ragtag older ones used for years at grandma’s house. Read More

Revolt at the Midway Discount Shopping Mall

By Richard Broderick
The department’s floor personnel—Bobbi, Tess, Shaun, Alice, and the stock boy, Luis—received word in that week’s pay envelope, but rumors had been circulating for some time that the store was closing. It was, after all, impossible to ignore how the shelves were not being restocked. “No mas,” Luis would shrug, his palms turned upward, when one of the sales associates asked why a particular item—like those fleece-lined shoe inserts the old ladies liked so much—hadn’t been replenished. “A little shipping problem,” Mr. Beechner, the head buyer, had assured Alice, the oldest among them, when she’d worked up the nerve to ask. “Central’s working on it,” he said, then marched off in a rush. He was always in a rush. Read More

Christmas is One of the Best Holidays

By Suad Arouni
Christmas is one of my favorite holidays—there are a lot of differences between Christmas in America and in my country, Sierra Leone. In America, all they do is exchange gifts and go to work, but in Sierra Leone people will start celebrating a week before Christmas. On Christmas Eve, people will do lots of grocery shopping and buy lots of meats and chicken because they like to cook fresh food in the morning. On the day of Christmas, all you can smell is the good smell of different aromas—yum, yum. Read More

COMING ALMANAC EVENTS IN 2011: LOWERTOWN READING JAMS

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Check back with us, or join our e-mail list or Twitter feed to be informed of coming events.

• Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
• Feb. 21, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

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Photo of TSA-rewrapped presents courtesy of Erik & Anna at SwingShoes.net

(Illustration: Kirk Anderson)

Many appear to be homemade, perhaps a child’s kitchen-table project. Some are what reflect the cultures of the people who have decided to share a bit of their traditions on the tree. As it gets closer to Christmas, more and more people add a decoration when they walk around the lake.

This community Christmas tree has no grand design, coordinated plan, or even matching colors. Somehow, though, each of the ornaments seems to fit in and play its role. Much like the people of Saint Paul, each of these decorations from different families and cultures comes together and forms a community. Every year, we walk around the lake at the holidays and enjoy the sense of community and the Como Lake community Christmas tree.

The very tree! (Photo: Amanda J./Flickr Creative Commons)

Tom Haas was born and raised in Saint Paul. When is he not busy with his dream job, working in a cubicle in a corporate tower, he loves to write for fun. When he is not writing, he loves to ride his bike and of course walk around Como Lake.

Many Christmas thanks from the Almanac to Amanda J for her photo of the very tree! Follow Amanda on Twitter.

Midway Shopping center at University and Snelling, Murphy Department Store, St. Paul. (Photo: Russell Schweizer, ca. 1960/Minnesota Historical Society)

The department’s floor personnel—Bobbi, Tess, Shaun, Alice, and the stock boy, Luis—received word in that week’s pay envelope, but rumors had been circulating for some time that the store was closing.

It was, after all, impossible to ignore how the shelves were not being restocked. “No mas,” Luis would shrug, his palms turned upward, when one of the sales associates asked why a particular item—like those fleece-lined shoe inserts the old ladies liked so much—hadn’t been replenished. “A little shipping problem,” Mr. Beechner, the head buyer, had assured Alice, the oldest among them, when she’d worked up the nerve to ask.

“Central’s working on it,” he said, then marched off in a rush. He was always in a rush.

But even though they all knew something was cooking, the news still came as a shock. In the break room that afternoon, Shaun stood transfixed, chewing his lower lip as he stared at the off-white sheet of company letterhead bearing the bad news. He was pale with shock. Everyone knew what was going through his mind; his partner, Allen, was sick—some said dying—and unable to work any longer. How were they going to pay the medical bills?

The gloom was finally broken by Angela, the pharmacy assistant. Waving her notice overhead, she declared, “Three weeks before Christmas! You’d think they’d have the decency to wait until after the holidays!”

“Honey,” Tess rejoined, her blue-gray jowls wagging, “Ain’t any good time to get fired!” That brought a flicker of a smile to Shaun’s face, giving the others permission to chuckle.

“Least I won’t have to listen to no more of them Christmas tapes,” Luis declared. “I hear that ‘bum-ba-bum-bum’ song one more time, I swear I’m gonna puke!”

Soon they were all laughing and gleefully denouncing the store, its managers, the district executives who swooped through once a month for “spot” inspections the store president knew about in advance (“Hurry, everybody, hurry! They’re going to be here in twenty minutes!”), the whole chain, and how the crooks and shirkers at the home office got all the goodies while the hard-working employees were left with the crumbs.

By the time Mr. Beechner became aware of the unusual noise coming from somewhere in the back of the store, Jacobi, the day custodian, had broken out a bottle of Seagram’s 7 hidden in his cleaning closet and was passing it around—even Bobbi, with her pale round face and startled-looking eyes, took a pull.

“Thank you, Lord! Thank you for not making me work in his hellacious place anymore!” Tess cried out, her head tossed back and her eyes closed in ecstasy just as Mr. Beechner arrived at the swinging doors to the break room.

He peered for a moment through the cloudy plastic window, blinking with incomprehension, while the scene registered itself in his mind. He was about to burst in and reprimand everyone, reminding them that they were still employees, still expected to behave professionally, when a fresh round of mirth exploded in the break room.

Bottle in hand, Jacobi was strutting back and forth, chest swelled with self-importance. With a shock, Beechner realized it was he who was being lampooned by this impersonation. Backing away from the door, he turned on his heels and stalked out into the merchandising area, pausing just long enough to straighten a rack of marked-down boys’ winter jackets with an impatient flurry.

“Damn employees,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t get anything right!”

Richard Broderick has lived in Saint Paul for the past twenty-one years. The author of three books of poetry and prose, the recipient of a Minnesota Book Award, and cofounder of The Twin Cities Daily Planet, an award-winning online community newspaper, he currently serves as president of the Macalester-Groveland Community Council.

Rooster in Sierra Leone (Photo: Dominik Bartenstein)

Christmas is so special for us in Africa, because you will meet new people and it is time to reconcile and a time of healing. That’s why the best place people like to go is the beach with their small picnic baskets. They throw a mat on the sand and two or three other families will come and join them. Africans like to eat from the same bowl and like to share.

I love to see little children running and playing soccer in the water while the old ladies will be in their traditional colorful gara cloth, and the old men will be in their ronkos, knee-length tunics woven of cotton. There will be lots of people in different costumes dancing and playing games and doing their traditional dances. The only difference about Christmas in Sierra Leone is that everybody is preparing the same dish—jollof rice, cassava leaf, and stew. In America you do have different choices of food from other countries.

Suad Arouni is from Sierra Leone, and misses Christmas picnics on the beach with her family and friends.

Photo courtesy Dominik Bartenstein. Browse Dominik's photostream on Flickr.

(Photo courtesy Minnesota Historical Society)

The houseboat burned in 1900, prompting a search for a large facility that could house transients, homeless men, alcoholics, and other “down-and-outers” of society. Who would have guessed this would become an organization that reached out to thousands of men and women in all walks of life?

The Union Gospel Mission opened its first permanent home in 1910, an imposing five-story building at 235 East Seventh Street. For approximately seventy years in that location, and elsewhere today, the mission’s motto has been “Where the doors never close.” The Bethel Hotel section was always full of men who could receive “soap, soup, and salvation”—though not necessarily in that order. They had to attend a religious service in the beautiful red chapel, then shower and eat a simple supper in the basement restaurant before earning a night’s sleep on one of the cots.

In the early years, a rectangular sign extended about ten feet from the outside of the building between the fourth and fifth floors, proclaiming simply, God Is Love. This sign, with neon lights inside it, was purple, a beacon to all the traffic coming from the north. As cattle-laden trucks lumbered toward the South Saint Paul stockyards, the sign announced Union Gospel Mission, Jesus Saves, Bethel Hotel. From the east, where street traffic came off Lafayette Road or from the East Side on Seventh Street, drivers read Union Gospel Mission, God Is Love, Bethel Hotel.

I was fascinated by everything about the mission—I tutored boys there in the 1970s—and I fell in love with that sign. I saw the north side of it whenever I drove into town from my home in Roseville. When I learned in 1981 that the mission had found a new home and the building at Seventh and Wacouta was to be razed, I called the salvage company and asked if I could have the sign. The owner said, “Okay, if you move it.” And on a beautiful, cold day, November 22, 1981, I became the proud owner of the Union Gospel Mission sign. With the generous help of Dick Hoffman of Hoffman Electric, his two trucks, two cranes, and two men, that sign was moved to my house in Roseville.

What a sight! They picked up the sign with a huge crane, carefully raised it over my carport, and set it gently down lengthwise along the side of my house. It stretched from the front post on my carport to the back edge of my house. The neon lights were long gone; still, it was beautiful to me. My youngest son, fourteen at the time, was in the basement working with his friend Jay. Ordinarily quite interested in complex undertakings, they refused even to come upstairs and watch.

For the next several months, I tried very hard to find a permanent home for the sign. My house was on the market, and I planned to go to Florida for a few months to be a starving writer. (My mother said I was successful at half of that!) I sent out feelers to numerous places where I thought the sign might fit. The new mission over on Lafayette Road seemed a logical one. But the new superintendent let it be known that he had no interest in the sign or anything else I proposed. (I suspect that he had read the Oliver Towne column in the old Saint Paul Dispatch that had described my search and my appeal to art lovers to call me about the sign. Towne also wrote about some girls at school teasing my son about the sign: they had asked if and when we were going to hold services at our house. Andrew responded, “We’re having a service of sacrifice. We’re going to sacrifice a virgin; would you like to volunteer?” That stopped those questions!)

A friend suggested that I contact the Landmark Center, saying, “Wouldn’t it look great in the cortille down there?” Oliver Towne suggested, among others, a spot beside the Indian in the City Hall/Courthouse on Kellogg.

Finally, having exhausted all possibilities, the closing on my house and my move-out looming, I made the heart-rending call to the salvage company.

I still think often of my beautiful sign, and I hope and trust that it is resting in peace.

Jewel Hill Mayer was born and raised in Mississippi and came to Minnesota as a young bride in 1952. She considers herself a native. (Yah! You betcha!) She writes poetry, essays, novellas, and songs—accompanying herself on the autoharp—and is quite active in City Passport for people over fifty, living life to the fullest.

Lobby, Saint Paul Hotel, circa 1910. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

“Of course, no problem,” I say. Linda and Cheri are in the lobby chatting, and I tell them it will be a while. I stand out in the cool entryway to be ready for the car and wait to see how long the “few minutes” will be.

The people stream in. I notice different perfumes, styles, faces red from the cold, smiles; the sound of laughter burbles and voices rise and fall like the tumbling water in a brook. The big brass revolving door is constantly going swiiisssshhhhhhhh as the people stream in. At 5:25 p.m., the valet sees me and says, “It shouldn’t be too much longer; I’ll come and get you.” I say “Fine.” Smile. I am enjoying the people. It is fun to be almost invisible as the people ebb and flow around you. The smiles, the hugs, tearful goodbyes. “I’ll see you next week,” and “It was so good to see you two again.” Heartfelt, sincere, happiness-compressed-in-time feelings. I move over toward the corner for a bit more heat.

“You waitin’ for number 368?”

“No.”

I’m number 371, but we’re getting close. It’s 5:40 p.m. I turn and wave at Linda and Cheri. Linda smiles her beautiful radiant smile. I know she is sending me a message: “No worry, we’ve got lots of time.” The guy beside me sees his car and runs out the door. “That’s mine!”

Poor valet; he is now getting pretty frantic. Losing the appearance of being a “No problem” guy. Here he is with number 368 blocking the drive and no one is there to pick it up. I can see my breath in the cold entryway, but I am enjoying myself, and the lights are twinkling. I am immersed in a show. A show of life.

“Are you the one for number 371?”

“Yes I am.”

Too bad. I give him a too-big tip. He smiles, relaxes, and leaves to find the owner of number 368. Me, I am sorry the show is over. I turn and wave at Linda and Cheri.

Early evening at the Saint Paul Hotel. One of the best plays in the Twin Cities. I hope when you’re there, they can’t get your car for you right away.

Saint Paul Hotel reflected (Photo: Maggie Osterberg/Flickr Creative Commons)

Chuck Tompkins, a frequent visitor to the Saint Paul Hotel, is an independent insurance agent, author, and pilot. He and his wife, Linda, fly his Citation II into the downtown Saint Paul airport frequently. Tompkins is also the author of The Insurance Wars (2004)— www.theinsurancewars.com —a business novel.

Modern photo of Saint Paul Hotel courtesy Maggie Osterberg. Browse Maggie's photostream on Flickr here. Historical postcard image courtesy Minnesota Historical Society Collections.

St. Paul Grill

The Saint Paul Hotel
www.saintpaulhotel.com
350 Market St.
651.292.9292
www.stpaulgrill.com
Classic American entrées and drinks. The best place in the city to get a glass of Scotch whiskey. Sunday brunch served from 10:30 a.m. to 2 p.m. $$$

The Lobby Bar

http://www.saintpaulhotel.com/dining/the_lobby_bar/

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Members of the Brass Messengers funk it up in the Black Dog cafe during the 2009 Lowertown SantaCon! City Pages has selected Lowertown SantaCon for its A-List for the last two years. (Photo by Nigel Parry)

For the third year running, the streets of Lowertown will be overrun by a mob of costumed Santas, elves, reindeer, and other colorful holiday-related characters and objects. Saint Paul's answer to Minneapolis' popular zombie-themed bar hops, Lowertown SantaCon is part spectacle and part mobile party.

Led by Foxy Tann, who heads the Twin Cities' only African American burlesque troop, and accompanied by the most mischievous Minnesotan marching band in history, The Brass Messengers, the 2010 Lowertown SantaCon is a jolly jaunt around the seven bars/restaurants that make up the Lowertown Entertainment District.

Saturday December 18th at 5pm at the Hat Trick Lounge, followed by Trattoria da Vinci, Barrio, The Bulldog, and the Black Dog around 8pm, followed by Station 4 and finally Senor Wong, around 10pm. Arriving late or don't want to get lost? Text "follow santacon55101" to 40404 for Twitter updates!

21+ only. Get really creative: come as a Santasaurus, Kwanzaa Ham, or Hannukah Chicken. Drink specials for those in costume. More info at http://tilsner.net/santacon

Watch the Brass Messengers perform during the 2009 Lowertown SantaCon

NEW WRITING FROM JEWEL HILL MAYER, CHUCK TOMPKINS AND ALELI BALAGTAS

Search for a Home for the UGM Sign

By Jewel Hill Mayer
I was fascinated by everything about the mission—I tutored boys there in the 1970s—and I fell in love with that sign. I saw the north side of it whenever I drove into town from my home in Roseville. When I learned in 1981 that the mission had found a new home and the building at Seventh and Wacouta was to be razed, I called the salvage company and asked if I could have the sign. The owner said, “Okay, if you move it.”

Read More

Saint Paul Hotel

By Chuck Tompkins
It’s 5:15 p.m. in the entryway of the old Saint Paul Hotel. It’s early winter, cold, and snowing. The lights across the street in Rice Park twinkle with the frost and people are rushing in to get warm and have the early evening cocktail at the famous bar where F. Scott Fitzgerald mulled over thoughts of The Great Gatsby. I just talked to the overworked, borderline frantic, new valet-parking operator, and he told me, “It will take a few minutes to get your car, we’re really busy.”

Read More

Welcome to Mount Como

By Aleli Balagtas
The sign mysteriously appears when the snow starts, at the foot of the golf club driveway, announcing the start of the ski season at Como Park: “Welcome to Mount Como.” When my husband tells a friend visiting from Switzerland, a snowboard instructor, that his kids took downhill ski lessons there, the Swiss fellow looks puzzled. “But there are no hills,” he says.

Read More

MARK YOUR CALENDARS!
COMING LOWERTOWN READING JAMS IN 2011

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Check back with us, or join our e-mail list or Twitter feed to be informed of coming events.

• Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
• Feb. 14, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

SAINT PAUL FACTS: WE GOT ’EM, NOW YOU KNOW ’EM

DID YOU KNOW? Winter can be dangerous! In 1869, Saint Paul photographer Charles Zimmerman was struck by an icicle weighing several hundred pounds while taking images of Minnehaha Falls. He was only slightly injured.

This Whitney & Zimmerman image of Minne-haha (Laughing Water) in winter dates to the 19th century. Photographer Joel Emmons Whitney (1822-1886) shared a studio with Charles Zimmerman (1844-1909) in Saint Paul, MN. The mini biographies at the Minnesota Historical Society indicates their partnership began in 1870 and lasted until Zimmerman bought the studio in 1871. (Courtesy: Thiophene Guy/Flickr Creative Commons)

DID YOU KNOW? Saint Paul does not have any domed buildings that collapse when it snows. Minneapolis, on the other hand:

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate

The Como Park hill and ski lift! (Photo: Sharyn Morrow)

Now this is Minnesota, the land of understatement. Please don’t flaunt your wealth, your worldliness, your peaks. Our hills are good enough. During the winter, the Como Park golf clubhouse becomes the Como Park Ski Chalet. At Mount Como, there’s a snowmaker, a rope tow that shreds your ski mitts, and lots of very enthusiastic ski and snowboard instructors who come to the last, festive, balloon-festooned day of ski school dressed as clowns, wizards, and cows.

It’s kind of a loud secret. The secret part is the fact of a long-running ski school in a place with such little change in elevation. Who would have guessed? What makes it loud is the organized mayhem on the first day of ski school: people lined up haphazardly to be fitted with highly experienced boots, bindings and skis; loose clumps of ski-ready kids waiting to hit the slope; parents on cell phones, a hand covering the nonphoned ear; all happening at high decibel.

The winter I took lessons, the school, in its infinite wisdom, segregated the adults from the children. Briefly, we were orphans until Paul, who managed the program, decided on the spot to be the adult instructor. He decided we didn’t need to know how to snowplow and before I knew it I was paralleling down the hill sitting on my skis. If you live in Saint Paul and don’t want people you know to see you learning to ski, don’t take lessons here. My daughter’s best friend’s father shouted encouragement to his kindergartner and to me. Paul, my instructor, happened to be related to my kids’ piano teacher.

Last week, the sign was gone. Once the ground stops squelching, the golfers will be out. But I know, come winter, that I’ll slow the car down the day I see the sign again, and I’ll remember the ski school at Como Park. My kids don’t take lessons there anymore, they have bigger hills to ski. It makes me sigh. For every season, there is a mountain.

Aleli Balagtas prudently does not ski downhill. Occasionally, she cross-country skis—at Como Park, of course. Sometimes she writes. More often, she has good ideas for writing that she soon forgets, in the confusion of getting kids to soccer games at the right times.

Mount Como photo courtesy of Sharyn Morrow. Browse Sharyn's photostream on Flickr.

Matthew Rucker

Hear the best in spoken word by members of the Saint Paul Soap Boxing Slam team — two time winners of the National Poetry Slam (“the Olympics of Slam Poetry”). Award-winning members of the team invited to participate include:

Shane Hawley a spoken word artist who dabbles in hip-hop and stand-up comedy. He is a four-time member of the Minneapolis National Poetry Slam team, and a former Minneapolis Grand Slam champion. Hawley has opened for such national acts as P.O.S, Dessa, and Jeremy Messersmith. Hawley’s “Wile-E” killed in the semifinals of the National Poetry Slam at Fitzgerald Theater on August 6, 2010 (see below, some strong language), scoring a perfect 10.0. 

Khary Jackson, (aka ‘6 is 9’) is a playwright, teaching artist and poet. He has represented Saint Paul on national and international stages numerous times over the last four years, winning two national titles with the Saint Paul Slam team, and third- and fourth-place wins at the 2009 and 2010 Individual World Poetry Slam championships (IWPS). Jackson says, “I’m proud of the poetry the Twin Cities is consistently producing. I hope to remain a part of the scene in various ways in the future.”

Kyle ‘Guante’ Myhre has been the Grand Slam Champ of Saint Paul, Minneapolis and Madison, Wisconsin, and was part of the 2009 and 2010 National Poetry Slam champion Saint Paul team. As a rapper, he's a member of the Tru Ruts crew and has shared the stage with Talib Kweli, Sage Francis, Brother Ali, Zion I and many others. Guante is currently serving as arts coordinator of the Canvas, a Saint Paul teen arts center, and continues to lead workshops through the MN Spoken-Word Association. For more info, visit his website.

Sam Cook

Neil Hilborn is a senior at Macalester College and is co-chair of the Macalester Poetry Slam. Originally from Houston, Texas, he began performing slam poetry two years ago. In 2010 he was a member of Macalester's collegiate nationals team, which is currently ranked third in the nation; at collegiate nationals Neil was given the Best Persona Poem award for his piece “Carver.”

About the Lowertown Reading Jams

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009, and they have been steadily gaining in popularity as excited audiences spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted.

The entire 2010-2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Black Dog Café offers its “Monday Madness” special featuring a large pizza and bottle of wine or a large pizza and four Summit beer taps for just $20.

The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Matthew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 14, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr.

About the Saint Paul Almanac

Recently released in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Almanac have until March 1, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org.

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the City.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by funds provided by the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council from an appropriation by the Minnesota Legislature. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of the Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, circa 1920. (Photo: Minnesota Historical Society)

owed it to myself and to the guests
who’d sat politely through the reading

—and to everyone in every
college and university 20th Century

American Literature class
throughout history—to get drunk

off my ass, just for the literary
symmetry of it, just for the laughs

and the high-society flap that would
surely ensue. I stood there outwardly

sober, but within I was disorderly
with the desire to be—to the very

rowdy, raunchy, reckless, and
innocent fiction of it—utterly true.

—Commodore Hotel, 2008

Todd Boss is the poet laureate of Nina’s Café on Cathedral Hill, which was named for the madame who once ran a brothel there. Todd doesn’t drink gin unless F. Scott or Nina is buying.

View Larger Map

(Photo: Sister Edith/Flickr Creative Commons)

Nora Murphy was born at St. Joe’s Hospital in downtown Saint Paul, was raised in Minneapolis, and now lives in Highland Park, just a few blocks from where her mom grew up. Check out Nora’s latest book, Knitting the Threads of Time, a knitting memoir and cultural history of women’s fiber arts, at www.nora-murphy.com — Nora is part of the Saratoga Studio A.M. Sunday Writers. They meet every other Sunday morning in a small studio above a garage in Saint Paul.

Moon over the capitol building courtesy of Sister Edith. Browse Sister Edith's photostream on Flickr.

The winter brutalizes our morale. We naïvely think about it as a quarter of our year; in actuality, it tackles us without warning in November and its frostbitten fingers hang on tight until spring eventually stomps them off the ledge of late April.

(Photo: David Erickson/Flickr Creative Commons)

(Photo: David Erickson/Flickr Creative Commons)

Meanwhile, spring and fall, lovely as they are, find themselves squeezed tightly between the giants of winter and summer. Our well-groomed weather forecasters boldly predict it with laughable accuracy—or inaccuracy, for that matter. We indulge in criticizing them after the fact.

Fall. Taken from the Marshall-Lake bridge over the Mississippi River to the southeast. (Photo: Bjorn/Flickr Creative Commons)

So why exactly do we go through this vicious cycle year after year? Why not move to that consistent climate? California? Miami? Ecuador? Is it possible that we enjoy this weather? Maybe the long cold winter makes us appreciate those “seventy-eight and sunny” days all the more. Perhaps the sweltering hot summer days make our winter hibernation oddly enjoyable. Deep down we all love criticizing the weather forecasters, right? It could be that our distinct seasons have an invigorating effect on our psyche. Or, most likely, the summer waves of sticky humidity, or that run of subzero days in January, are an even trade for all the awkward silences we avoid, thanks to our good friend, that forty-fifth parallel weather.

Maximilian Selim evolved from an ambitious student to a struggling, unemployed writer/filmmaker the moment he received his diploma from the University of Minnesota in spring of 2009. You may find Max at Dunning Field coaching the Saint Paul Central Baseball Team or playing for the Highland Park Amateur Baseball team in his spare time.

Photos courtesy of David Erickson and Bjorn. Browse David's photostream and Bjorn's photostream on Flickr

POETRY: AT THE BAR WHERE F. SCOTT FITZGERALD DRANK GIN

By Todd Boss
—even though I drank wine,
and then only half a glass—I felt I
owed it to myself and to the guests
who’d sat politely through the reading
—and to everyone in every
college and university 20th Century
American Literature class
throughout history… Read more.

THINGS WE LOVE: WEATHER

By Maximilian Selim
The forty-fifth parallel runs through Saint Paul, Minnesota. This parallel is generally considered the halfway point between the equator and the North Pole. This is irrelevant to our everyday lives with the exception of one truth: it is the cause of our extremely unpredictable weather, a concept that consumes us. We talk about it with co-workers, we talk about it on dates, we analyze it on the TV, we use it as an excuse for being late, we complain about it, we use it to avoid awkward gaps in uncomfortable conversation, and most importantly, we live in it. Read more.

POETRY: DECEMBER

By Nora Murphy
The moon has landed
on earth, printing her
craters and hills...
Read more.

THIS WEEKEND ONLY: EVENTS TO CHECK OUT

A Klingon Christmas Carol
LAST FEW SHOWS: Until December 12th, 2010

Playwrights: Christopher O. Kidder & Sasha Walloch
Translated by: Laura Thurston, Bill Hedrick, and Christopher O. Kidder
Additional Content and Translation by: Chris Lipscombe
Lyrics to qu'wI' by: Terrence Donnelly.
A co-production of Commedia Beauregard and the IKV RakeHell of the Klingon Assault Group in MN.

Scrooge has no honor, nor any courage. Can three ghosts help him to become the true warrior he ought to be in time to save Tiny Tim from a horrible fate? Performed in the Original Klingon with English Supertitles, and narrative analysis from The Vulcan Institute of Cultural Anthropology.

The Dickens classic tale of ghosts and redemption adapted to reflect the Warrior Code of Honor and then translated into tlhIngan Hol (That's the Klingon Language).

Landmark Center, Saint Paul, MN
75 West Fifth Street
Saint Paul MN 55102
651.292.3225
ORDER TICKETS ONLINE HERE

AFTER THE WEEKEND: THE FIRST OF EIGHT UPCOMING LOWERTOWN READING JAMS!

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Matthew Rucker hosts the next jam on Monday, December 13th, 2010.

• Dec. 13, 2010 – Matthew Rucker
• Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
• Feb. 14, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

GET MORE FROM THE NOW MASSIVELY-UPDATED SAINT PAUL ALMANAC CALENDAR

This, the eighth edition of the Almanac's Pig's Eye Post blog, interjects with a reminder that our Events Calendar for Saint Paul, Minnesota offers a listings to a wide range of theater, exhibits, music, dance, literature, family, sports and value events and is available 24/7/365 to help you make your plans at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

SAINT PAUL FACTS: WE GOT ’EM, NOW YOU KNOW ’EM

DID YOU KNOW? On August 21, 1965, The Crusher defeated Mad Dog Vachon to become the American Wrestling Association champion at a match in Saint Paul.

Publicity photo of the Crusher (right) and his cousin.

Langdon Beck's December 12, 2005 column, "How 'Bout Dat", described the rivalry between The Crusher and Mad Dog Vachon:

Maurice 'Mad Dog' Vachon. Click for enlargement.

Like any great wrestler, Da Crusher was involved in several classic feuds. In both tag team and singles action, there was bad blood between Crusher and the Vachons, Mad Dog and Butcher. The Crusher-Mad Dog Vachon rivalry began in the mid-1960s when Crusher beat Vachon for the AWA Championship, but by 1969 had intensified, soon to become the most vicious feud in the history of the AWA. Mad Dog injured Crusher during a match in Chicago in August of that year, not only costing him the AWA Tag Team Championship, but putting him out of action for four months. Upon his return, Crusher gave Vachon a wound to the head that needed 23 stitches, and thus began a series of brutal, bloody matches, with the vendetta reaching its peak in what some say was the first great Steel Cage Match. At one point in the bout, Vachon was kicking the Crusher, and several fans began to scale the cage in an attempt to help their hero. Crusher won the match (later saying if he had lost, there would have been a riot), and Vachon was hospitalized, but like all classic cage matches, the victor was worse for wear too. Crusher's son David Lisowski said of the match, "He came out really beat up. His head was cut up. He had a busted eardrum. The whole right side of his body was bruised. But the next day, he went to Green Bay to wrestle."

Video: The Crusher takes on Mad Dog Vashon during a 1971 match

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate/

Harriet Island Park in the Winter. (Photo Theresa Boardman)

FINAL "CELEBRATION THROUGH STORIES" READING ON SAT DEC 4TH

That's right, it's the last one! This event series featured contributors to the Saint Paul Almanac reading their pieces from the 2011 edition, available in our online store for only $11.95 including shipping. Come, listen to the final reading in this year's series on Saturday! Writers who will read at the final event include Karen Karsten, Leslie Walters, Bob Deck, Alexander Theoharides, Virginia Dippel, Nieeta Presley, Steve Trimble, Jeanne Souldern Pinette, and Judith Niemi.

Saturday, December 4th, 2010, 1PM
Grumpy Steve’s Coffee
215 Wabasha St. South
651.224.1191
www.wabashastreetcaves.com/grumpy.html

We've collected video from some of the Celebration through Stories readings, which will be coming soon!

EIGHT UPCOMING LOWERTOWN READING JAMS!

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Matthew Rucker hosts the next jam on Monday, December 13th, 2010.

• Dec. 13, 2010 – Matthew Rucker
• Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
• Feb. 14, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

SAINT PAUL ALMANAC CITY GUIDE

Looking for something to do? Instead of browsing by date for a specific event, why not browse the type of date night or other outing you're looking for in our Saint Paul City Guide, found at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-city-guide/ or through the handy navigation tree accessible through the CITY GUIDE link on the top navigation bar on every page of this site.

The Bars & Restaurants section of the City Guide expands to get you to the nearest Tandoori restaurant, brunch place, or Sports Bar. Or select the Coffee Shops and Tea Shops link. Additions and contributions are always welcome, don'tcha know?

NEW WRITING FROM MOLLY CULLIGAN, ANGELA MACK, AND DIANE WILSON

POETRY: S.O.S. Saint Paul to Buenos Aires: Juan Pablo, are You Listening?

By Molly Culligan
Funny how two people
can get the feel of each other in two bars
two bars of a tango
a woman from the top of the world
a man from the bottom of the world
in the middle of a circus
in the middle of an industrial zone en el Rio Plata
in the middle of Buenos Aires. Read more.

MEMORIES: Saint Paul: The Speaking Place

By Angela Mack
I am a mother of three who moved to Saint Paul about a year ago from one of the meanest cities in the world, I think: Chicago. When I arrived at Saint Paul’s Greyhound bus station, I was terrified. I did not know a soul and had nowhere to go, but I was determined to start a new life for me and my children. I walked out of the station to flag down a cab, and this woman said hello. I looked at her like she was crazy. She didn’t know me, and I kept moving. Read more.

POETRY: November

By Diane Wilson
I raise my baton,
a rake, a half-chewed stick:
dry leaves crackle, snap
tympani for the horn toot
of geese flying south. Read more.

EVENTS TO CHECK OUT

Black Nativity: Now's the Time
November 26 - December 26, 2010

Writers: T. Mychael Rambo & Lou Bellamy
Director: Dominic Taylor
Musical Director: Sanford Moore

This contemporary gospel musical celebrates the bonds of family, the power of faith and the appreciation of what money can't buy - the gift of love. Rejoice with the best jazz and gospel singers of the Twin Cities and members of TU Dance as they join Grandma Walker and her family to ring in the holiday season.

Penumbra Theatre
www.penumbratheatre.org
270 North Kent Street
Saint Paul MN 55102
651-224-3180
ORDER TICKETS ONLINE HERE

SAINT PAUL FACTS: WE GOT ’EM, NOW YOU KNOW ’EM

DID YOU KNOW? Saint Paul native and Cretin High School graduate Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper, flew two space shuttle missions in 2006 and 2008 and made a total of 5 spacewalks.

On November 14, 2008, Stefanyshyn-Piper blasted off and became the first female lead spacewalker.

Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper (Photo: NASA)

Four days later, on November 18, 2008, Stefanyshyn-Piper became the first Minnesotan to lose a bag in space.

SUPPORT YOUR HOMETOWN ALMANAC

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate/

Photo of Harriet Island courtesy of Teresa Boardman. Visit Teresa’s photostream on Flickr.

Tango night at the Black Dog in Lowertown, Saint Paul. (Photo: Y Entonces/Flickr)

Funny how two people
can get the feel of each other in two bars
two bars of a tango
a woman from the top of the world
a man from the bottom of the world
in the middle of a circus
in the middle of an industrial zone en el Rio Plata
in the middle of Buenos Aires.
Funny how they can take each other’s measure
and throw it away
to course into a Piazzola tango, torso to torso
transmitting questions and answers
two birds mating in the sky wings akimbo
dancing the dance of love
Cuidado! Losing altitude! Hitch’er up!
Ooooooooooooooooooo song’s ending
even birds mating in the sky are finite
sink her over and atop your body
head cradled like a baby

Molly Culligan’s life has revolved around Saint Paul. Act I: Third of six in the John and Margaret Culligan family. Act II: Motherhood. Act III: Actor, dancer, director, producer, writer, editor, poet, coach. Peace work figures large. She presents readings of her poetry on life, death, and the tango. She performs as Meridel Le Sueur and other writers.

Photo courtesy Y Entonces. Visit Dan's photostream on Flickr.

November geese in Saint Paul by the Mississippi (Photo: Derek Bakken/Flickr Creative Commons)

I raise my baton,
a rake, a half-chewed stick:
dry leaves crackle, snap
tympani for the horn toot
of geese flying south.
Paired wings overhead
wind instruments
playing a downbeat of air,
I listen to the hushed prayer.

Diane Wilson is a writer, walker, weeder, and waterer who claims to have taught her dog to whistle. Spirit Car: Journey to a Dakota Past was awarded a Minnesota Book Award in 2006 for creative nonfiction, memoir, and autobiography. Diane is part of the Saratoga Studio A.M. Sunday Writers. They meet every other Sunday morning in a small studio above a garage in Saint Paul.

Geese photo courtesy Derek Bakken. Visit Derek's photostream on Flickr.

(Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

On the corner of Selby and Snelling avenues, the green awnings of O’Gara’s are known to many. In the late 1940s, shortly following World War II, my grandpa chose this neighborhood bar as a meeting place for friends and fellow vets to unwind each Friday after a long work week. They’d share a few laughs, a few drinks, and memories from Pearl Harbor. Primarily Irish, it became a melting-pot of backgrounds and ideas.

As my dad and uncles grew, they, too, came to call the bar theirs on Friday nights. No matter how blustery, rainy, or muggy, they still made it out for a cold one. On the rare occasion that trips or vacations couldn’t be avoided, there was always a phone call to the bar making sure everyone was in good spirits.

At the age of five I was already acquainted with the place my grandpa referred to as “The Club.” I attended O’Gara’s Santa Claus breakfast and sat on Santa’s lap while my cousins chased each other around the room. I remember the sight of my grandpa sipping brandy gingers, surrounded by his aging circle of friends.

I remember squeezing into a booth after a softball game, slurping my club soda and listening to my grandpa regaling his friends with stories of Ireland. I longed for the day when I could sit on the bar stool beside him with stories of my own. I’d tilt my head and watch as he opened the can of ginger ale he’d brought from home and pour it into his tumbler of brandy. He never complained that they didn’t serve ginger ale, he simply brought his own. The bartenders, along with the owners, Dan and Tim, never failed to make us feel welcome, and often before they knew it they’d be lost in the conversation. The topics amongst the boisterous crowd would inevitably lead back to varied opinions regarding politics, Cretin-Derham Hall sports, and good beer.

The grand age of twenty-one marked not only a milestone in my family, it was also a rite of passage. I, like my cousins and second cousins before me, was presented with my first beer and a walleye dinner at O’Gara’s. My grandpa was sure to treat anyone sitting at our table. He could turn even the moodiest bar-goers into friends with his ebullient laugh.

Slowly, as is life, the rosy faces of that hearty group began to fade. Whether it was due to a stroke or lung cancer, one by one, their bar stools sat empty. The winter of 2007 brought the news that my grandpa had been diagnosed with cancer. I remember sitting at the bar the first Friday he was too sick to make it out. I knew then it wasn’t good, because nothing kept him from his bar. Dan continued to send walleye dinners to his home each Friday.

His heart put up a good fight until he left us in the spring. I thought it would be too painful to set foot in my grandpa’s bar without him, yet it has now become more a part of me than ever. No matter how unpredictable life is, I know that on any given Friday night I can walk into O’Gara’s and find my family. I’ll find cousins who’ve returned with amazing stories of China and South America. I’ll find uncles offering free legal advice, and I’ll find my dad, with a beer waiting for me.

Browse listings for Music Venues in our Saint Paul Almanac City Guide.

Collette DeNet was born and raised in Saint Paul. Do not be fooled by the spelling of her last name: it does not rhyme with her first name (the ‘t’ is silent). This bright young twenty-four-year old is an avid Guinness drinker and travel enthusiast. She also has a deep love for acoustic ’70s ballads and Irish folk songs. If you ever need to find her, she is probably walking around Como Lake with her dogs singing a cheesy ’70s ballad.

Rain to the East, a panorama of St. Paul, MN (Photo: Peter Ladd/Flickr Creative Commons)

The Almanac extends a giant "Youbetcha we thank you" to all those who generously donated during last Tuesday's "Give to the Max Day" charitable event. You helped us raise over $1,200 in individual donations plus matching grant funds from board members of the Saint Paul Almanac for a total of $2,426 in just 24 hours! Thank you for saying that so many of you love and value our community-building literary campfire. We simply could not do this without your support. If you still want to donate, surf over to our homepage and use the donate feature on the front page. Your generosity is how we can afford to give 2000 students in the Saint Paul school system their own copy of the Almanac!

METRO MAGAZINE INCLUDES THE ALMANAC IN ITS TWIN CITIES SURVIVAL KIT

Our friends at Metro magazine included the Saint Paul Almanac in a Twin Cities Survival Kit in their November issue!

(Photomontageything: Tate Carlson)

METRO EXPLAINS WHY IT INCLUDED THE ALMANAC: Because Minneapolis has traditionally hogged the glory when it comes to art and culture. This book lists events for nearly every day of the year and includes short stories and vignettes from St. Paulites like Desdamona and Garrison Keillor.

Saint Paul Almanac coming events!

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams

Matthew Rucker

The entire 2010–2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. Matthew Rucker hosts the next jam on Monday, December 13th, 2010.

The Saint Paul Almanac's "Celebration through Stories" readings are ongoing until early December in coffee shops around the city

The event series features contributors to the Saint Paul Almanac reading their pieces from the 2011 edition. We're working on getting video from some of these readings up! Coming dates include:

• Amore Coffee (Nov 29th)
• Grumpy Steve’s Coffee (Dec 4th)

See our Celebration through Stories event page for more information. For other upcoming event listings, check out our Saint Paul Calendar at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

New Almanac writing from 1 adult and 2 kids!

PEOPLE: A Trio of Saint Paul Storytellers

By Steve Trimble
Groundbreaking urban historian Richard Wade always told his students, me included, that the true feel of cities was more likely to be found in literature than in scholarly works. That holds true for this metropolis and can be demonstrated through the works of three Jewish writers who grew up in Saint Paul. They had somewhat similar early experiences, but told their stories in different manners—humorous, serious, and nostalgic—and eventually traveled different paths. One thing the trio has in common, however, is the fact that they are still well worth reading. Read more.

BARS, RESTAURANTS & CAFES: A 12-year-old reviews Mickey’s Diner

By Mariela Consuela Cole
Have you ever been to Mickey’s Diner? Well, I have. The first time was about four or five years ago. But I remember it clear as day. It looked like a house trailer. When we got there, I was amazed by how small but cool it was. I went inside, and everyone was nice, joyful, polite, and seemed like they were always in a great mood. We got a booth by the window. Read more.

BARS, RESTAURANTS & CAFES: An 11-year-old reviews Lady Elegant’s Tea Room

By Amanda Baden
“My favorite place in Saint Paul is Lady Elegant’s Tea Room. Lady Elegant’s Tea Room is special to me because that’s where I had my first cup of tea.” It’s fun to go there because in the back of the room is a wall lined with hooks. On each hook is a different hat. One hat in particular is special to me. That hat is red velvet with a fingertip veil in the front and three red bows on top of each other on the side. I wear it every time I have tea there with my mom, and it’s my favorite. Read more.

Happening in Saint Paul

Hmong New Year
RiverCenter, Kellogg Blvd, St. Paul
November 26th-28th, 2010

Hmong New Year celebrates its 34th year in Minnesota! Taking place at Saint Paul RiverCentre on Friday, November 26 – Sunday, November 28, you won't want to miss this cultural event. The event includes entertainment from various singers and dancers, a beauty contest, wonderful shopping (including a variety of unique clothing) and delicious ethnic foods.

For more information.

Saint Paul Facts: We got ’em, now you know ’em

DID YOU KNOW? March 1, 1881: Minnesota's first capitol building in Saint Paul was destroyed by a fire.

The first capitol building, in 1860. (Photo: Whitney & Zimmerman/Minnesota Historical Society)

The second capitol building, present day. (Photo: Nick Busse:/Flickr Creative Commons)

Support your Almanac

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate/

Top of Page rain clouds panorama photo courtesy of Peter Ladd. Visit Peter's photostream on Flickr. State capitol building photo courtesy of Nick Busse. Visit Nick's photostream on Flickr.

Have you ever been to Mickey’s Diner? Well, I have. The first time was about four or five years ago. But I remember it clear as day. It looked like a house trailer. When we got there, I was amazed by how small but cool it was.

I went inside, and everyone was nice, joyful, polite, and seemed like they were always in a great mood. We got a booth by the window. Five minutes later, a woman came over, and I asked for a chocolate shake. It took only three minutes and it was ready. I’d never had a shake made so fast before, so I hesitated before I really tried it. I loved it!! It was the best milkshake I had ever had.

Then when I got the fries . . . Wow! They were hot, long, crispy, and completely delicious. It was so much fun that I’ll never forget that day. I hope I can go there again really soon.

Mickey’s Dining Car
36 West Seventh St.
651.222.5633
www.mickeysdiningcar.com

Browse listings for Breakfast & Diners in our Saint Paul Almanac City Guide.

Mariela Consuela Cole is twelve years old. Her birthday is September 4, 1997. She has an older sister, Marisa, and an older brother, Diamonte. In her life, Mariela has had four dogs, eight cats, two hamsters, and three fish. She has gone to two different schools, Pratt and St. Anthony Park. She thanks you for reading her life story.

Photo courtesy of Teresa Boardman. Visit Teresa's photostream on Flickr.

(Photos courtesy of Lady Elegant's Tea Room)

My favorite place in Saint Paul is Lady Elegant’s Tea Room. Lady Elegant’s Tea Room is special to me because that’s where I had my first cup of tea.

It’s fun to go there because in the back of the room is a wall lined with hooks. On each hook is a different hat. One hat in particular is special to me. That hat is red velvet with a fingertip veil in the front and three red bows on top of each other on the side. I wear it every time I have tea there with my mom, and it’s my favorite.

Not only have I had good tea there, I’ve also had really good scones. I’ve had an apricot scone, a blueberry one, and a chocolate chip one. I have a memory associated with the blueberry scone: I had it with the first cup of tea I ever drank. It was Jane Austen tea, and I shared the pot with my mom. We both thought it was delicious.

When I go there with my mom, we always sit by the window so we can see the courtyard below us. The first thing my mom and I do when we go there is pick out a hat. I always pick out my favorite red one. Next, we sit down to a white tablecloth with a circle of candles at the side. The candles are for the teapot to rest on so it stays warm. On top of the tablecloth are white, frilly placemats. On each placemat is a goblet filled with water. Between the two placemats are a bowl filled with sugar cubes and a doily on top and a cup full of cream.

I like Lady Elegant’s tea room because it’s a nice, relaxing place where my mom and I can have fun. That’s why Lady Elegant’s tea room is my favorite place in Saint Paul.

Lady Elegant's Tea Room
2230 Carter Ave.
651.645.6676
www.ladyelegantstea.com

Browse listings for Coffee Houses and Tea Shops in our Saint Paul Almanac City Guide.

Amanda Baden is eleven years old and she lives in Saint Paul and attends St. Anthony Park Elementary School. She is in sixth grade. She has a cat and a dog. Her favorite kind of writing is poetry.

Photos courtesy of Lady Elegant's Tea Room.

Hla/Paw family by their house in the Thai Refugee Camp. Daniel is missing. November is on the left.

Not everyone in my family made it to Saint Paul. My parents were village people, until the villages were burnt down. Hiding in the jungle, their food was stolen; their friends and relatives starved. Our people, the Karen, were attacked because we have a different culture, language, and religion. My father was shot through his hand. It took a long time to heal.

Let me explain. My name is November Paw. My parents fled Burma (Myanmar), over mountains and a great river, before I was born in 1992.

My entire life was in the Mae La refugee settlement in Thailand. Mae La is a large camp of 50,000 people. Our family of nine lived in a small bamboo house. The United Nations provided beans, rice, tea, and cooking oil for our survival, but the food was very boring. To add spices to our food, my brother Daniel snuck out of the camp to a job giving elephant rides to tourists. I went to a Karen school taught by the older children, and we all went to a Baptist church in the camp. My grandfather had been a pastor back in Burma.

My parents asked to live in America because there is freedom and good education. The day we arrived in Saint Paul my mother was happy, but she cried for all that was left behind. My oldest brother, Daniel, could not come to America because he was married. I remember my father became excited when he saw all the cars. But I was sick—starving, dizzy, tired. There was no food on our three-day journey to Minnesota, and for even more days the food I ate would not stay down.

Many people helped us when we arrived in August 2007 to be with my aunt in Saint Paul. on my first day of school, we rode a bus, but none of the Karen children knew what to do when we got there, so we waited on the sidewalk. Later some teachers came out and put us on another bus to the English-learning school. My friend Ron says I speak English well now.

He says I am very smart.

November Paw in Minnesota

My dad has a job in a food processing plant and my mother is learning English. She laughs and says she learns many words one day and they all go away the next. She has never gone to school before. She hopes the Karen in America will remember their language, handmade clothes, and food. Rice is better here than in Thailand. But in winter, my face hurts as I walk up Rice Street in snow to the store. The wind is frightening and painful. I am learning how to stay warm.

I wonder, did you ever wake up in the night and be afraid for your life? Sometimes the Burmese military came into the camps and chased us into the forest. We had to be very quiet in the dark or we would be killed. I worry about that still.

Minnesota is a safe place. We each have our dreams and hopes. My parents want all of us children to have a good education and jobs some day, and they want to live in a house and not an apartment. I dream that I will be a nurse when I am older. And we all pray that the Karen people can someday have their own country, that the myo dong (genocide) will stop.

Joyous news! My brother Daniel and his wife and children have just come to America. They can live in our same apartment building! I will see Daniel’s new baby for the first time. I can be an aunt!

Ta blit, Minnesota. Thank you.

November Paw (she was indeed born in November) is now a student at Roseville Area High School. She’s taking many mainstream classes like physical science and algebra. Recently, she was honored as student of the trimester! This summer, in her spare time, she hopes to learn Spanish, piano basics, anatomy, and how to be a good badminton player.

Smiler in his chair (Illustration: Andy Singer)

“Hey kid,” he coughed out at me from the mint green armchair, “I’ll take it neat.”

As he spoke, a rare shaft of late afternoon sun bounced at an odd angle through the dimly lit garden apartment and caught my great-uncle across the face. The mix of dusty light and smoke rising off his Chesterfield cigarette formed a sepia haze around his head. For an instant, his pallid complexion regained some youthful color reminiscent of the once-handsome Marine war hero. Ludwig was his real name, but he went by Smiler. If Smiler earned his name based on congeniality, it was a long- vanished attribute.

“Neat?” I asked.

“Christ, kid, what are ya, sixteen? And you ain’t got a clue. I had been on three continents by the time I was your age. It means no ice. I got no time for watered-down drinks.” Smiler’s self-observation was spot-on. At seventy, he was a broken-down alcoholic with terminal emphysema.

Smiler had recently drifted back to Saint Paul after a twenty-year absence and had proclaimed on his sister’s doorstep, “This is the end of the line.”

Grandma greeted the prodigal with a straight back and gnarled fists dug into her hips. “So aren’t we the fortunate ones to end up with your pickled bag of bones,” she said, blocking the threshold.

Smiler landed at the Gilbride Apartments, a rundown, red brick, three-story building on Snelling Avenue. Facing the noisy street, security bars on its windows, the place met Smiler’s most significant needs: cheap, furnished, and near a liquor store.

He was a cranky cuss, but the demeanor of this tall gaunt man with a full shock of white hair was secondary to me. I needed a refuge from a mother on amphetamines and five younger siblings. Home life was a tinderbox, and everyone in it was a walking match. The only entrance requirement into the old man’s place was my willingness to be on call, fake ID in hand, to shag his Haven Hill whiskey and unfiltered cigarettes. And Smiler liked drinking companions, even when they were a bunch of delinquents.

On weekends, Smiler’s place became party central. At times, we packed up to fifty kids in that one-bedroom apartment, spilling out into the hall and onto the sidewalk. There were only two rules: stay out of Gunnery Sergeant Smiler’s chair and don’t drink his booze. Many a night, he would be slumped deep in his chair, sound asleep, while a party raged around him. Other nights, the booze energized him to hold court and take us on fragmented journeys.

“The Germans gassed us in Somme, hit us with Big Bertha in Lyon, but we held ’em at Verdun and along the Hindenburg and took ’em at Belleau Wood.” He’d wave the cigarette attached to his blue-veined hand, spreading smoke through the scene, enhancing his recollection. “Christ, just boys, and getting hammered for what? So some jodi sonofabitch can steal your girl? Wilson and the Kaiser sipping Champagne over five million smoldering bodies, and I get to carry this goddamn hackin' cough for the rest of my life.”

Raising his arm, he’d move it forward sharply in a mock salute. He’d lean back in his chair, eyes watery, hike his glass to signal a refill, and continue, “Kid, your grandma and I once swam across the river in October. Took a bonfire to thaw us out.” As the thread of loneliness invariably wove its way through his accounts, he would abruptly clam up, pinch his cigarette, and stare steely-eyed into his unfinished story.

Thankfully, it was the landlord who found him that Friday—heart attack or something. The funeral at Saint Luke’s was small, just immediate family and five of my friends who’d hung out at Smiler’s whom I pressed to be pallbearers. As the incense burner swung over the casket, I removed a small military pin from my pocket: a spread-winged eagle perched on a globe, its eyes angry and its beak ready to strike, its talons gripping at the hemisphere. Smiler had unceremoniously given it to me a few weeks earlier. Removing a thick rubber band from his Don Diego Cigar box, he’d walked his long tobacco-stained fingers through the contents, pushing past old coins, a VFW poppy, a Stevenson for President button, and yellowed letters. Toward the bottom of the clutter, he chased the military pin into a corner, plucked it out, and held it up, like a prospector examining a gold nugget.

“Here, kid, this is for you,” he said, holding the memento between his fingers. “It’s taken me down this twisted road as far as it’s gonna, and I come further than a lot of them boys. Some folks would say further than I should of.” Seeing my face twist into a question, he sunk back in his chair and busied himself with the box.

My grandmother’s muffled cry primed my tears, and I realized the pin had meant more than gratitude for booze running. It had signaled a passage for me as it had for Smiler, albeit a kinder one. He was my age when he joined the Marines, only to have his boyhood innocence stamped out and his manhood sculpted by war.

The service ended with a scratchy tape playing Amazing Grace as we proceeded to the back of the church. Walking alongside the casket, I threw off my teenage slouch, stood straight, and moved smartly. My friends, picking up on my new sense of purpose, fell in step behind me.

Semper Fi, Smiler.

Dennis Kelly grew up in Saint Paul hopping trains on the Short Line, vaulting the fence at the State Fair, playing outdoor hockey at Dunning Field, and shooting pool at Sarge’s Billiards.

Our goal is to work mutually in Saint Paul communities to support a diverse, connected, and engaged city of people around local literature and art.

Arcata Press organizes the Saint Paul Almanac as a people's meeting space for sharing the stories of our community through our annual book, public readings, community editor mentorship program, and other activities that showcase and honor local, diverse voices and artists.

It's individuals like you who understand how vital it is to learn from each other through the art of story.

We need your help to continue this important work.

The Pig's Eye Post is back and the Almanac needs your help!

At the Saint Paul Almanac, we know we all do better when we know each other. Our goal is to use storytelling to help everyone in Saint Paul become friends and neighbors — one big block club of Saint Paulites that understand and support each other in good and difficult times.

• Arcata Press organizes the Saint Paul Almanac as a people's meeting space for sharing the stories of our community through our annual book, public readings, community editor mentorship program, and other activities that showcase and honor local, diverse voices and artists.
• We publish work of nationally acclaimed local writers like Gordon Parks and Garrison Keillor with emerging writers' work and writing from new immigrant, student, elder, African American, and other communities.
• In our partnership with the Saint Paul Public Schools, 2000 students receive Almanacs as part of their social studies curriculum, and we sponsor an annual student writing contest for grades 5–12 as well.

We need your help on Tuesday, November 16th, "Give to the Max Day" A.K.A. "The Great Minnesota Give Together"

Last year, for 24 hours, more than 38,000 donors logged on to GiveMN.org and contributed more than $14 million to 3,434 Minnesota nonprofits, whose missions range from feeding the hungry, to protecting the environment, to promoting the arts. Every hour one donor wins a golden ticket, adding $1000 to their donation.

To donate, visit the Saint Paul Almanac website homepage and donate in the left column or visit our page on the GiveMN website at http://givemn.razoo.com/story/Arcata-Press

Mounds Park (Photo: Jim Denham/Flickr Creative Commons)

Saint Paul Almanac coming events!

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams

The entire 2010-2011 season will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

• Dec. 13, 2010 – Matthew Rucker
• Jan. 10, 2011 – May Lee-Yang
• Feb. 14, 2011 – Tou SaiKo Lee
• Mar. 14, 2011 – Carol Connolly
• Apr. 11, 2011 – Marcie Rendon
• May 9, 2011 – Desdamona
• June 13, 2011 – Melvin Giles
• July 11, 2011 – Diego Vázquez, Jr.

The Saint Paul Almanac's "Celebration through Stories" readings are ongoing until early December in coffee shops around the city

The event series features contributors to the Saint Paul Almanac reading their pieces from the 2011 edition. Coming dates include:

• Mad Hatter Coffee Cafe and Teahouse (Nov 13th)
• Common Good Books (Nov 15th)
• Jerabek’s New Bohemian Coffeehouse and Bakery (Nov 20th)
• Golden Thyme Coffee Café (Nov 22nd)
• Amore Coffee (Nov 29th)
• Grumpy Steve’s Coffee (Dec 4th)

See our Celebration through Stories event page for more information. For other upcoming event listings, check out our Saint Paul Calendar at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

Got some good photos or a story from a local event or want to weigh in with a short, memorable review? Contact us: http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/contact/

New Almanac writing from Greg Brick and Margaret Hasse

THINGS WE LOVE: Exploring the Fort Road Sewers

By Greg Brick

Back in my younger and more foolish days, I spent a lot of time exploring the sewers under the Fort Road neighborhood of Saint Paul. The tunnels run under every street at an average depth of about thirty feet. These tunnels, which carry raw sewage, were dug out of the St. Peter sandstone bedrock with handpicks more than 100 years ago. Their floors are paved with brickwork. I once painstakingly measured the aggregate length of this sewer labyrinth on sewer maps and found it was thirty miles long—the length of the famous Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. The funny thing is, it’s almost totally unknown to the public. Read more.

POETRY & FICTION: Big Hair

By Margaret Hasse

This fall, our son’s chosen
to grow his hair out long.
He keeps his tresses clean,
Otherwise lets the fields lie fallow,
Doesn’t cultivate with comb and brush.
One woman on Grand stares so long
at his hair, she trips over the curb… Read more.

Exhibits in Saint Paul

Mao to Now: Chinese Fashion from 1949 to the Present
GMD Gallery, McNeal Hall, St. Paul
October 2, 2010 to January 9, 2011

Chinese culture changed drastically between 1949 and the present. The evolution of Chinese fashion reflects how the culture transformed.

“Mao to Now” is divided into three periods: pre Mao (1912 to 1948), the Mao era (1949 to 1977), the era of the nondescript Mao suit and the post-Mao era (1978 to present), which demonstrates how, after Mao, Chinese fashion began to exhibit an increasingly dramatic melding of Chinese and Western design expression.

The work of four top Chinese fashion designers will be included in the exhibition: Wu Haiyan, Liu Canming, Wang Yiyang, and Zhang Da. In addition to the items of dress and accessories, the exhibition will feature photographs by high-profile Chinese journalists and photographers to illustrate the differences between the periods.

Curated by Dr. Juanjuan Wu, Assistant Professor, College of Design, University of Minnesota, Dr. Marilyn DeLong, Professor, College of Design, University of Minnesota and Mingxin Bao, Professor, Fashion, Art & Design Institute, Donghua University

For more information.

Saint Paul Facts: We got ’em, now you know ’em

(Photo: Michael Hicks/Flickr Creative Commons)

DID YOU KNOW? The students in the Saint Paul school district come from homes in which 70 different languages are spoken.

Support your Almanac

The Almanac needs your support!

Stay in touch and tell your friends. Please join our email list. Sign up in the red box on the right column of every page on this site. We're also on Facebook and Twitter. Use the share links on this page to let your contacts know about material on our site.

Buy the Almanac. You may have a copy, but do all your friends? Or your enemies? Scientific studies have shown that prolonged reading of the Saint Paul Almanac increases both longevity and quality of life, and reduces general crabbiness! Visit our online store.

Donate to the Almanac. The Saint Paul Almanac builds community through providing forums—in print, online, and at events around the city throughout the year—to share our individual stories. Every year, 2000 students in St. Paul’s public high schools receive a free copy of the Almanac. Your donation of $25 will help pay a poet, essayist, or short story writer, or make an almanac available to two Saint Paul Public School students. The Saint Paul Almanac is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit and donations to our mission are tax-deductible. If you love Saint Paul as much as we do, and recognize the value of the Almanac, help us get it out there with a generous donation. Donate online now at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/donate/

Top of Page downtown sunset photo courtesy of Jim Denham. Visit Jim's photostream on Flickr. School bus photo courtesy of Michael Hicks. Visit Michael's photostream on Flickr.

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The second season of the eclectic series, curated by Tish Jones, will be presented on Monday, November 8, 2010 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Café, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July 2011.

Jones’ theme, “The Truth: Wants More” offers an evening of critical social and personal analysis through poetry. The guest poets will be speaking on the educational system, the prison industry, their own personal journeys through life and much more; through song, melody, simile, and metaphor; exposing their truths on the microphone before you. Featured writers include:

Mankwe Ndosi — Mankwe Monika Nkatuati Ndosi is a Minneapolis-based, multidisciplinary performer of Tanzanian and Midwestern descent. She has been working for over a decade in the media of theater, dance, music, spoken word and improvisation. In addition to her independent work, Ndosi is part of Douglas R. Ewart & Orchestra Inventions, a Chicago-based improv group rooted in creative Black music. Her interests include myth, healing, and bridging the distance between African and African-American people and music. Ndosi teaches workshops in voice, writing and stage work, leads wild plant walks, and writes “unfinished spirituals.”

Ibe Kaba — Although very few know what it is, we all have a reason, a calling for which we are sent here to earth. After 10 years in America, five years ago Ibé found his raison d’être: to tell the stories of Africans in America. A Mandinka of the great Mandin Empire, if you ask him he’d be the first to say, “Spoken word, we started that shi_.” And if you know anything about the art form, and the keepers of history called the griots, you’d have to agree. From Guinea by way of Sierra Leone, Illinois, and Minnesota, if you ask him his address you’ll get a house number in Eagan, Minnesota. But ask him where he lives and he’ll tell you “the middle of the Atlantic.” From that rock in the middle of nowhere, Ibé’s poems mix metaphors and similes that bridge the Atlantic.

Jake Virden — A poet and educator from Northeast Minneapolis, Virden loves sharing and hearing thoughts, stories, histories, and “dope styles.” He is interested in building relationships and solidarity to protect and celebrate life.

Mahmoud El-Kati — An elder in the Black community, Professor El Kati teaches a course in The Black Experience since World War II. A frequent contributor to the opinion pages of both Twin Cities dailies as well as the local Black press, El-Kati has published dozens of monographs and pamphlets, as well as two books. His latest is titled Haiti.

Tish Jones — Tish Jones is a Saint Paul-based, spoken word artist and lover of the written word. As a teaching artist, she has presented courses and workshops in creative writing, theater, spoken word, and hip hop for over five years. She has a passion for cultivating and encouraging youth voice, social change, and a strong sense of community in — and through — the arts. Tish Jones was one of the featured lecturers and performers for the three-day conference, “From Vices to Verses: A New Era of Hip Hop and Action” at the University of Minnesota in April 2010. The conference included workshops, lectures, and performances from rap artists, activists, politicians, poets, and writers, and was hosted by the University’s Weisman Art Museum. Talks focused on the positive, transformative power that hip-hop culture can have on communities. The event also covered B-girl ground with talks on feminism in hip hop. Here (approx min. 19:00), Jones is part of a panel discussion on “Hip Hop for Healing: Old Problems, New Solutions.”

The Almanac has been hosting the monthly Lowertown Reading Jams since October 2009, and they have been steadily gaining in popularity as excited audiences spread the word about their powerful, shared experiences. The Jams provide an opportunity to explore and bridge the cultural and social breadth of the city of Saint Paul throughout the year. Each Jam is produced and hosted by a well-known writer or spoken word artist. Saint Paul “performance drawing” artist Lara Hanson interprets the readings using Japanese ink brushes. The Black Dog Café offers its “Monday Madness” special featuring a large pizza and bottle of wine or a large pizza and four Summit beer taps for just $20. All Reading Jams are American Sign Language (ASL) interpreted.

The entire 2010-2011 season of Lowertown Reading Jams will be presented at the Black Dog Café, a popular Saint Paul venue for spoken word artists, and a co-sponsor of the series. The Jams are curated by the following creative writers and agents for social change:

Oct. 11, 2010 - Deborah Torraine
Nov. 8, 2010 - Tish Jones
Dec. 13, 2010 - Mathew Rucker
Jan. 10, 2011 - May Lee-Yang
Feb. 14, 2011 - Tou SaiKo Lee
Mar. 14, 2011 - Carol Connolly
Apr. 11, 2011 - Marcie Rendon
May 9, 2011 - Desdamona
June 13, 2011 - Melvin Giles
July 11, 2011 - Diego Vázquez, Jr.

About the Saint Paul Almanac: Recently released in its fifth edition, the Saint Paul Almanac features essays, poems, photos, maps, and listings of events, bars, restaurant, theaters, and other cultural venues within a datebook format. The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac features 129 works by 118 writers. These writers include literary giants, everyday residents, students, journalists, new Americans, and lovers of Saint Paul who live in other corners of the world. Writers interested in having their work considered for the 2012 Saint Paul Almanac have until March 31, 2011 to make a submission. Information on upcoming events, how to make a submission, and other Saint Paul Almanac news is available at www.saintpaulalmanac.org

The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac sells for $11.95 online at www.saintpaulalmanac.org, and is available in independent and mainstream bookstores everywhere, as well as at libraries and coffee houses throughout the city.

Saint Paul Almanac activities are made possible, in part, by the Minnesota Arts and Cultural Heritage Fund as appropriated by the Minnesota State Legislature with money from the vote of the people of Minnesota on November 4, 2008. Sponsors and partner organizations include the Black Dog Café and Wine Bar, the City of Saint Paul and Saint Paul STAR Program, Clouds in Water Zen Center, The Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, KFAI Radio, The Lowertown Future Fund of The Saint Paul Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, Saint Paul Neighborhood Network (SPNN), Travelers Arts & Diversity Grant Committee, and Twin Cities Daily Planet.

1915 sewer cover on Hamline Avenue (Photo: Patricia Bour-Schilla)

Back in my younger and more foolish days, I spent a lot of time exploring the sewers under the Fort Road neighborhood of Saint Paul. The tunnels run under every street at an average depth of about thirty feet. These tunnels, which carry raw sewage, were dug out of the St. Peter sandstone bedrock with handpicks more than 100 years ago. Their floors are paved with brickwork. I once painstakingly measured the aggregate length of this sewer labyrinth on sewer maps and found it was thirty miles long—the length of the famous Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico. The funny thing is, it’s almost totally unknown to the public.

My motivation was simple curiosity about this strange netherworld of fermenting brickwork, and I kept a sewer diary to record my impressions. I wore plastic trash bags over my clothes, but even so, sometimes I had to discard what I had worn because it was caked with filth. I carried food, but the problem was finding a place clean enough in which to eat it. I usually explored alone because no one would go with me, and these ventures marked some of the loneliest moments of my life. I once jokingly referred to the sewer labyrinth as the Diamond mine, hoping to motivate squeamish friends to accompany me, holding out the prospect of finding wedding rings that had been flushed down the drain. Unfortunately, nobody was that stupid, and I never did find any rings.

Subterranean Twin Cities (2009), published by the University of Minnesota Press

Despite the sewers’ eerie isolation, I wouldn’t have cared to meet anyone down there anyway. In fact, what further unnerved me during my long solo expeditions was the ghostly reflection of flashlight beams from water surfaces onto the walls, which produced the momentary illusion that someone was approaching or retreating from me in the tunnels. After a while, you begin to hear voices in the dripping water.

It was a long time before I overcame my fear of sewer gas. Overall, the tunnels smelled vaguely like garlicky summer sausage. But there were pockets of better and worse. Lengthy dead-end passages, flooded with stagnant, blue-green septic pools, for example, were pretty overpowering. Laundromats overhead, with their sudsy downward discharges, provided a welcome olfactory oasis in the sewers below. And walking under Fort Road toward downtown, I could always tell when I passed Cossetta’s, one of my favorite restaurants, owing to the pleasant, steamy aromas. Finally I would arrive under Seven Corners, where the passages branched out under the Loop.

I encountered rats, too—aplenty. One day, while strolling under one of the city’s charity soup kitchens, I observed fresh pasta floating in the sewage. Following the stream, I came to a pipe vomiting pasta into the tunnel. Swarms of sleek, fat rats clustered about, feasting gluttonously. They parted ahead of me in the narrow passage when I approached, then closed the gap behind, squeaking in protest all the while. I actually welcomed comic relief like this, considering how perilously far I was from human aid.

There’s very little graffiti in the tunnels, except for the initials of public works personnel, but I once encountered a very elaborate wall carving of a tree—carved in relief!—with intertwined branches, several feet high. It seemed symbolic of the labyrinth as a whole, with its endless, branching passages.

Greg Brick, a native of Saint Paul, teaches geology at local colleges. His latest book, Subterranean Twin Cities, was published by the University of Minnesota Press in 2009. His work has been featured in National Geographic Adventure magazine as well as on the History Channel.

(Photo: Fotos de Camisetas de SANTI OCHOA)

This fall, our son’s chosen
to grow his hair out long.

He keeps his tresses clean,
Otherwise lets the fields lie fallow,

Doesn’t cultivate with comb and brush.
One woman on Grand stares so long

at his hair, she trips over the curb.
Our mellow teen’s unfazed,

But his friend shouts at her:
Why don’t you just take a picture?

In winter, ropey knots and dreadlocks
raise a lion’s mane around his face.

On myspace.com, he uses Bob
Marley’s photo, not his own.

Now in hot spring, he scores his first job,
can’t fit his ’do into the employee cap,

decides to have the wild bush
whacked, but declines the barber

whose shop attracts other young
black men with high style.

There’s no escape for his father
who pulls out hair-trimming tools

inherited from his grandma.
Michael drapes a Batman cape,

sits on a kitchen stool so his dad can shear
the black mats that fall like Brillo pads.

The one now bald doesn’t appear
to be the same boy: a soldier

could wear this chiseled head.
But look again, a softhearted youth

comes back thinking how to use
the surplus he raised and leaves behind.

Could it make a wig? he asks,
for someone like your mother

who got sick? I mask a smile,
imagine setting on her bare head

an ebony Rastafarian crown, bold
as shining gold bequeathed

from a grandson
she would have loved to hold.

Margaret Hasse is twice blessed, with degrees in English, one from Stanford University and one from the University of Minnesota. She loves living in the Mac-Groveland neighborhood, where every block has at least one writer and many avid readers of poetry and other literary work. The titles of her three collections of poetry are Stars Above, Stars Below; In a Sheep’s Eye, Darling; and Milk and Tides.

The Minnesota State Quarter, which prominently features a loon, the state bird, has been around since 2005.

Our beloved loons and human snow birds are starting to migrate now, and we hope they stay safe from the miles and miles of oily Gulf Coast waters. The hunting season of our other state bird—the mosquito—has come to a welcome end and—whatcha know?—the long fall shadows of tree limbs extend on our Saint Paul sidewalks like stills from a Tim Burton movie.

Last weekend, Minnesotans who were too cheap to spring for a plane ticket for Washington D.C., in order to attend the Jon Stewart/Stephen Colbert "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear," held a rally at our very own State Capitol Building.

As 250,000 people gathered on the Washington Mall, 200 gathered in Saint Paul. FOX News quoted Dan Stevens, one of the local rally organizers: "Mostly we are going to simulcast the rally from D.C. and get together and remind each other we can be nice and we can disagree without being disagreeable."

In completely unrelated news, we're still accepting entries for our Minnesota Nice story competition (poems also accepted). We'll send the winner either a copy of the 2011 Almanac and/or a cup and we'll send the runner-up whatever the winner didn't want. Send us your stories (400 words max) at stories@saintpaulalmanac.org and we'll post some of the best in the coming weeks! Read the latest entry from Janet Preus in the New Writing section below!

More Saint Paul Almanac readings events around town!

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The second season of the eclectic series, curated by Tish Jones, will be presented on Monday, November 8, 2010 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Café, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul. The Jams will continue on the second Monday of each month through July 2011.

The Saint Paul Almanac's "Celebration through Stories" readings are ongoing until early December in coffee shops around the city. The event series features contributors to the Saint Paul Almanac reading their pieces from the 2011 edition.

Coming events include the Mad Hatter Coffee Cafe and Teahouse (Nov 13th), and Common Good Books (Nov 15th), with more on the 20th, 22nd, and 29th. See our Celebration through Stories event page for more information.

Lowertown Loves Love

PROBLEM: Lowertown has been hit significantly by business lost during the ongoing Light Rail construction work, as the following KARE 11 News Report sadly notes.

SOLUTION: As always in Saint Paul, there are more parking lots than you'd ever need, and construction is taking place along 4th, affecting Kellogg, 4th and 5th Streets from the Farmers' Market at Broadway to Downtown Saint Paul.

However, if you approach Lowertown from Kellogg Boulevard, or from the I-94 Kellogg exit that brings you down Kellogg Bridge, you even won't notice any construction. Both Kellogg Boulevard and the place you are going to park is located outside the area affected by construction.

Parking (see map below) is easiest accessed on the north side of Kellogg at the foot of Kellogg Bridge, in the Prince Street lots. This isn't Minneapolis. Parking fees are just $2 (weekday) or $1 (weekend)—evening or overnight—with an additional fee if you plan staying on through the morning for brunch with friends in the hood. That lot puts you right next to the Black Dog Coffee and Wine Bar, Lowertown's central hub of information and community. They'll tell you how to get to Everest basecamp from there!

Rock Solid Parking in Lowertown During the L.R.T. Construction. Click to enlarge

Do see the construction while you can. Treat it as a sightseeing trip! The opening of the LRT connection between Downtown Minneapolis and Lowertown/Downtown Saint Paul will mark a powerful change of the flow of life into the neighborhood. Come and see the construction of a historic Minnesotan public transport system and visit with the people who live in Lowertown and make it what it is today.

Coming Events in Lowertown

Lowertown First Fridays is coming of age at the grand ol’ age of one year old! Come down and commemorate the occasion with us by seeing art on November 5th from 6-9pm at all the open studios, then, in a special Twist o’ Fate, we will be partying at Echo Arts starting at 9:30pm. Don’t miss this opportunity to see art and have fun with the artists!

The Black Dog Coffee & Wine Bar is holding a “Dancing on the Grave” party as part of the November 5th Lowertown First Fridays, from 7–10pm. The Dog promises Fire Dancing, Music, Food, Drink and General Merriment, all for free! The Black Dog Café can be found at 308 Prince Street, Lowertown. 651.228.9274. www.blackdogstpaul.com

The Saint Paul Almanac continues its year-round literary celebration of Minnesota’s capital city with the acclaimed Lowertown Reading Jams. The second season of the eclectic series, curated by Tish Jones, will be presented on Monday, November 8, 2010 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. at the Black Dog Café, 308 Prince Street in Saint Paul.

For other upcoming event listings, check out our Saint Paul Calendar at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

And if you get some good photos from a local event and want to weigh in with a short, memorable review, contact us: http://saintpaulalmanac.org/about/contact/

Recent Milestones in Saint Paul

Close to Saint Paul's heart...

October 25th marked the eighth anniversary of the death of Minnesota Senator Paul Wellstone. The Almanac was sent this video created by a class of fourth, fifth, and sixth grade students at Lake Country School with their teachers Malinda Holte and Media Mike Hazard. Watch a scene from this documentary portrait of Paul Wellstone, THE MAGIC GREEN SCHOOL BUS:

For more information about The Magic Green School Bus, visit http://www.thecie.org/wellstone/

The University Avenue Project and the 2011 Saint Paul Almanac

From May through October of 2010, award-winning photographer Wing Young Huie, who has received international acclaim for his many projects that document the changing cultural landscape of Minnesota transformed Saint Paul’s University Avenue into a six-mile-long, multi-media, public gallery. Embedded in this tapestry of words, music, and images are a host of issues such as ethnicity, gender, and social disconnection. The photos ask such questions as, “Who are you? What advice would you give a stranger? How do you think others see you? What don’t others see? How has race affected you?”

Writing in the Star Tribune, Mary Abbe reminded us of the scope of the 5-month-long project, which ended on October 30th:

With huge murals plastered or projected on buildings, and photos displayed in 80 storefronts, the Duluth-born artist has reflected the hopes, dreams, and daily life of the city back to its residents. Running from the KSTP tower to the State Capitol, the project has been dubbed the nation's largest public art installation.

We're missing the University Avenue Project already and hope more bold, engaging exhibits grace the city in the future. The 2011 Saint Paul Almanac features almost two-dozen photos by Wing Young Huie. Get your copy of the 2011 Almanac here.

New Almanac writing from David Mura, Janet Preus, Linda Kantner with memory support from Jane Sevald, and Norita Dittberner-Jax

FACT OR FICTION: On the Mythical Sighting of Chow Yun Fat in St. Paul

By David Mura

She was working first
shift at Taco Bell
when out of Hong Kong
and the two-fisted guns
and that scene in the kitchen
where he rolled through flour
for dumplings and rose white
faced as the angel of death…

Read more.

THINGS WE LOVE: A Minnesota Nice Story: The Area Reporter

By Janet Preus

For well over a year I drove around Ottertail County, poking around in its little towns, stopping whenever something caught my eye, asking “why?” a lot, and “who should I talk to?” It would be easy to make light of what I did under the title “area reporter,” just because the towns are small, relatively few people are affected by their decisions, and most of the world barely knows where Minnesota is, much less Ashby, Erhard, Henning or Dent. But that would be missing the point. Read more.

SEPTEMBER 11TH MEMORIES: In a City Classroom

By Linda Kantner, with memory support from Jane Sevald

I learned a few sparse details about the tragedy of September 11 at Lutsen’s Bar on Lake Superior. I waited in the lounge for my turn to use the pay phone and watched as the television silently showed strangers holding hands and jumping from the burning towers. I felt like I was returning to a changed world. My friend Jane Sevald was also entering a whole new world. At age forty-five, she was taking on her high school classroom teaching English and writing at Como High School to students from Ethiopia, Somalia, Laos and Iraq. Read more.

PEOPLE: Memories of Russia with a Dentist in Frogtown

By Norita Dittberner-Jax

Dr. Sobkoviak of Frogtown, our dentist, stood looking out the window of his office at Western and University and saw Russia. As he changed the point of the drill, looking straight through Old Home Dairy across the street into the Kremlin, he warned me about Nikita Krushchev. He was slow and thorough, stopping to polish his glasses in front of that window. In his starched white tunic, he was a true professional. Read more.

Saint Paul Facts: We got ’em, now you know ’em

From the photographer: "Highland Water Tower, St. Paul, MN. I've heard it rumored that this tower is the highest point above sea level in St. Paul; during the Highland Art Fest, they open the tower for folks to climb." (Photo: Michael Hartford/Flickr Creative Commons)

DID YOU KNOW? The octagonal Highland Water Tower, built in 1927, is 134 feet high and holds 200,000 gallons of water in a steel tank.

Photo courtesy of Michael Hartford. Visit Michael's photostream on Flickr.
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Illustration: Kirk Anderson

Dr. Sobkoviak of Frogtown, our dentist, stood looking out the window of his office at Western and University and saw Russia. As he changed the point of the drill, looking straight through Old Home Dairy across the street into the Kremlin, he warned me about Nikita Krushchev.

He was slow and thorough, stopping to polish his glasses in front of that window. In his starched white tunic, he was a true professional. He did me, a school girl, the honor of thinking out loud about the world, not with the passion of my father at the dinner table, but with the cool reason of fine instruments arranged on a tray. He was the first polite society I knew. The crease in his trousers was enough to break my heart.

The dentist chair itself faced the large front window. The corner was cut away as if to make a stage of the world beyond. To the right, sat a large glass box in which were stacked hundreds of white filters, a few of which he delicately inserted in my mouth. False teeth set in a deathly grimace warned me of what lay ahead, if I was not careful—what my mother was holding off with these punctual visits.

There was no receptionist. When the telephone rang, Dr. Sobkoviak left his work to answer: “Sobkoviak speaking.” When he returned, he took up the pick and continued his political ruminations.

These were not conversations. I never got a turn. As soon as I wanted to say something, he unhooked the drill, and I lay back with the pearly orange light in my eyes and thought of Russia. I never knew there was such a thing as Novocain until I left home. He never offered it. We took pain straight in Frogtown.

Previously published in Sidewalks literary magazine.

AUTHOR'S BIO: Norita Dittberner-Jax is a poet whose work has been widely published. She has an abiding love for Saint Paul, having been raised in Frogtown, taught English in its schools, and continues to live in this lovely city. Her books of poems include The Watch and What They Always Were.

AUTHOR'S BIO: David Mura has written three books of poetry: Angels for the Burning, The Colors of Desire, and After We Lost Our Way. He recently published a novel, Famous Suicides of the Japanese Empire. If you don’t know who Chow Yun Fat is, go rent The Killers or Hardboiled.

I grew to have great respect for the down-to-earth, solid people who seem to have such a strong sense of self—of who they are, where they belong, and what really matters. They get into scrapes, face crises and mess up, just like everybody else on the planet, but like as not, there’s a friend or relative nearby to help out when they do.

They don’t envy people who live more glamorous lives. They drive home from work in 10 minutes, hop on the pontoon, and catch a few bass before rolling into bed. They duck out of work, walk a couple of blocks, and take in their kid’s baseball games. Chances are the boss is sitting right next to them watching too. They help build a friend’s garage for a few beers and a backyard barbecue, not because they feel some obligation, but because it’s fun. They organize fundraisers for a neighbor strapped with imposing medical bills, and eat lots of pancakes and sausages at fundraisers somebody else organized. They plan the community celebrations, chaperone the homecoming dance, shovel the snow in Grandpa’s driveway, bring a hotdish to church for the annual meeting, and clean the cemetery.

In a small town it’s all the same people! It’s not like they can spread it around and just do one thing. They know who lives next door, across the street, and around the corner—personally. They readily share names and phone numbers, even with a reporter, and always know who’s in charge of what, who moved, who had a baby, who bagged the biggest buck, and whose kid got picked up by the cops. They also know the cops.

This is what makes Minnesotans “nice.” And the nicest part of all is that they don’t even think about it.

Jane Sevald and Linda Kantner

I learned how to be a Saint Paul therapist from movies like Ordinary People and Sybil. Being painfully shy, I hoped I could keep my conversation to “Hmmm,” and “How do you feel about that?” I imagined a Summit Hill female clientele who struggled with color schemes and what to wear to University Club banquets.

Instead, my days were often spent on the floor at Expo Elementary, smashing trucks into walls and filing child abuse reports. After years of this, I quit and tried to be a writer. In September of 2001, I won a one-month retreat at Norcroft, a feminist writer’s retreat in northern Minnesota. At Norcroft there were no televisions, radios, newspapers, or telephones. I learned a few sparse details about the tragedy of September 11 at Lutsen’s Bar on Lake Superior. I waited in the lounge for my turn to use the pay phone and watched as the television silently showed strangers holding hands and jumping from the burning towers.

On my return to Saint Paul, I saw flags and yellow ribbons and signs saying, “Peanut Buster Parfait, USA All the Way.” As the days passed, I had the strongest desire to gather people on the street and have a group hug. I wanted desperately to rise to the occasion, but I didn’t know how. I felt like I was returning to a changed world.

My friend Jane Sevald was also entering a whole new world. At age forty-five, she was taking on her high school classroom teaching English and writing at Como High School to students from Ethiopia, Somalia, Laos, and Iraq. She likes a challenge and takes to it like Lance Armstrong approaching a hill, but when we spoke on the phone about meeting for coffee, I heard something in her voice—something scared. It was the sound of riding injured.

Jane is a big woman, and I am kind of scrawny. She is loud, and I tend to mumble. She covers her shyness with grand gestures and a whopping presence. She is brilliant, in a far-flung fashion. She speaks Russian and knows what countries were named before they were what they are now, and she can find them on a map. She watches gory detective shows and reads ten mysteries a week for distraction. I have my own brand of intelligence gathered from the streets of Frogtown, downtown, Highland, and Hamline, where I have been riding my blue mountain bike for twenty-two years. Jane can talk to people about anything, and I can listen to people talk about anything.

When I returned from Norcroft, we met at the old Black Bear Crossings Cafe by the railroad tracks. It was a cozy place decorated with dream catchers, woodsy colors, and a stone fireplace. Jane was draped across the coffee shop couch, her big voice roaring with pain. “I’m a mess. I have never been so tired in my life, and I only work half-time. Whatever made me think I could teach high school? It’s a disaster—you should come and see.”

I choked on my skinny latte. “Why would I want to come and see a disaster?” In the space of that sentence, half of me was speeding down Lexington to her class and the other half was headed back to the woods. Like many social workers, I am a junkie for a good disaster.

“You could help me figure them out.” Jane looked excited, as though she were having a good idea at that very moment, and didn’t I want to get excited too?

“I hate meeting new people—it scares me. I don’t know anything about kids from other countries. I’ve never met a Muslim before. I don’t even know anyone who’s visited Africa. It’s a whole new language for me ‘refugee,’ ‘foreign national,’ ‘despot.’ My second language is street slang done poorly.”

“I knew you’d want to come.” Jane ignored my rush of concerns.

“I didn’t say I wanted to come. I do wonder why so many people want to immigrate here if they hate Americans. But I can wonder from home.”

“You should have seen us on September 11. I could have used you that day.” The layers of complication and pain in Jane’s voice drew me in.

I couldn’t help myself, “What was it like?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her pale features turned sickly and she held herself very still. She shut her eyes, and with each word, her sorrow rose like a tired man climbing a steep ladder. “I put on CNN so the pictures could speak for themselves. I tried to interpret what they were seeing. I stared at the television and remained calm like the president asked. The students stopped talking. The look on my face must have scared them half to death.

“‘Class, it is important that you listen,’ but they were listening, they were waiting for an explanation. I tried to explain using the small words they knew. When I stopped, they waited for the rest, waited for the happy ending. All of the students had come to the United States for a happy ending.”

“‘America is a safe country, Ms. Sevald,’ Shumi tried to comfort me, ‘That’s why we came here.’

“‘That’s true, it is not like Somalia,’ Zamu was certain.

“But then Ali sat up in his seat. He looked me in the eye and asked, ‘Will they kill us all?’”

The next Monday I slid into Jane’s classroom, hoping to be unobtrusive. There was noise, like an international market on trading day. Holding my breath, I slipped toward the back. I was stopped by a beautiful young woman who held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Shumi from Oromia. Who are you?”

“I’m Linda, a friend of Jane’s. She invited me to visit for a day. I don’t even know where Oromia is.”

Shumi continued holding my hand a little longer than an American would. “No one knows where Oromia is. You’ve heard of Ethiopia, right?”

Shumi spoke so fast it was like trying to catch words in a wind tunnel. I worked up a sweat just listening, and when she paused for a breath, I was ready to head to Sweeny’s, my neighborhood bar.

“Listen up, people. This is my friend Linda, a real writer.” Jane shook her head at the wonder of it. “She has published stories in books and magazines. She won the Minnesota Monthly Tamarack Award. Let’s give her a big hand.”

I was horrified. Was Jane the school bully? I gave a little wave and tried to sit down, but they kept clapping and hooting. Damn Jane, damn her.

I opened my mouth, “Ah.” My tongue felt like a wad of paper mâché. “I have ideas and questions and worries about the world. I try to understand things by writing about them. I believe that stories can change how people think. Maybe if you tell me a story about yourself, I will know you a little bit better and I won’t be afraid of you. The world will be a better place.”

I found the courage to say a little more. “You have ideas too. You have stories people need to hear, stories I need to hear. You can be real writers too. You can do that.” My heart had reached its limit; it was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. “Ah, well . . . That’s all.” I dropped in my seat.

“You should write a story about me.”

“In Ethiopia they beat us if we write in our own language, so our stories never get written down.”

The man who had asked, “Will they kill us all?” stirred from where he sat slumped in a corner. The room quieted, and the kids looked to him. “I’m Ali. I want to tell my story.”

When the bell rang, Jane and I raced out the door along with the kids. We headed back to the Black Bear Crossings Cafe. Jane let loose a long and weary sigh, as though she had been holding her breath all morning. “So what do you think?”

The question was so inadequate to the force of the morning. We started laughing and laughed until we couldn’t any more. In between gasps, I tried to explain.

“It was nice,” I said, and we laughed harder.

“Good,” I tried again. But it was neither of those. It was loud and chaotic. It was confusing and fascinating. It was intriguing and daunting and mysterious. I didn’t know what it was.

“They talk a lot,” I said.

“They talk all the time unless they are sleeping,” Jane agreed. “When are you coming back again?”

“Why would I come back?” I felt myself shrink at the thought. I am not the type to get involved.

“Teach them to write, obviously,” Jane’s voice bounced off the walls. “They like you—they listened. Ali said he wanted to tell his story.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“How am I going to have time to help him with the other thirteen bouncing off the wall?”

I wondered the same thing. Ali had left a haunting impression, and Shumi, the sparkling girl from Oromia. Maybe I could get out of bed for this, an hour, once a week, or maybe twice.

“Can they write?”

Jane pulled papers from her bag. “Last week, I asked them to describe themselves.” She paused, reading the first paper to herself. “We might want a refill before we look at these.”

AUTHORS' BIOS: Linda Kantner is a Honda Rebel–riding writer who gets her kicks riding too fast and living to tell the story. She will publish her memoir, As Told To Me, if there is any justice in the world. Jane Sevald, Saint Paul public school teacher, unprepared in September 2001 at forty-five to begin a career teaching English to teenage immigrants, will forever be grateful to Linda Kantner for giving her the courage to move away from the textbooks and embark on a journey of discovery with the students. Uncharted waters indeed!

This is our fourth edition of the Pig's Eye Post. Last week, we told you we were looking for your best "Minnesota Nice story." And it's been a busy week. Not only did the President visit our city, we also received a stunning entry from Louis DiSanto. Don't let Louis' "Yes We Already Have" attitude put you off because we're still accepting entries.

We'll send the winner either a copy of the 2011 Almanac and/or a cup and we'll send the runner-up whatever the winner didn't want. Send us your stories (400 words max) at stories@saintpaulalmanac.org and we'll post some of the best in the coming weeks!

Saint Paul News & Mystery

Clues to lost royal complex unearthed by LRT excavation crew

By Andy Remke

Workers performing advance utility relocation work in preparation for light rail construction in Lowertown have stumbled across what local authorities believe may be a long lost royal complex that is likely the final resting place of Boreas the Brrrave. It is not unusual for the refuse of bygone eras to turn up during large scale excavations such as that which has been taking place in Lowertown this past summer. Similar work on the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis uncovered scores of bottles, household items, and more than a few horseshoes. The quality, variety, and sheer volume of items discovered beneath 4th street have, however, prompted calls for a halt to further work on the project – if only temporarily. Read more.

Saint Paul Almanac Events

The Saint Paul Almanac's Celebration through Stories readings are ongoing until early December in coffee shops around the city. The event series features contributors to the Saint Paul Almanac reading their pieces from the 2011 edition. Coming events include Polly’s Coffee Cove (Oct 26th), the Mad Hatter Coffee Cafe and Teahouse (Nov 13th), and Common Good Books (Nov 15th). See our Celebration through Stories event page for more information.

Truly Super Upcoming Events

Theater Latté Da’s production of Evita, starring Zoe Pappas as Eva and Jared Oxborough as Che. (Photo: George Byron Griffiths)

Evita at the Ordway Center for the Performing Arts

First Lady of Argentina Eva Perón was a legend in her time. An illegitimate country girl, she rose to become the most powerful woman Latin America had ever seen—a potent symbol of hope and change. Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice's opera is the powerhouse telling of her brief and fascinating life.

Choreographer Michael Matthew Ferrell has worked hard to ensure that on-stage movement—especially the tango—is central to this production of Evita by Theater Latté Da, one of the country's theater companies that focuses primarily on musical theater.

Evita continues until November 14, 2010. More info and tickets available at http://www.ordway.org/performances/1011/theater-latte-da-evita.asp

Opening of Hmong Village on Saturday 30th

Chris Havens at the Star Tribune reports the grand opening of Hmong Village next weekend:

a labyrinth of indoor merchant stalls, fresh produce vendors, bustling kitchens and offices geared toward the region's tens of thousands of Hmong residents, many who live in St. Paul... A trip to Hmong Village isn't like going to Southdale. It's similar to other ethnic marketplaces, such as the multicultural Midtown Global Market or Somali Karmel Square in Minneapolis, where many small family-run businesses rent smaller spaces to sell goods and services. It's perhaps the most local of local economies... There are 40 offices, 35 produce booths, 17 restaurants and 230 merchant stalls.

Visit Hmong Village at 1001 Johnson Pkwy, just south of Lake Phalen, 10 minutes drive from Downtown.

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Last Chance Halloween

You still have one last weekend to watch Bare Bones Theater's annual Halloween extravaganza in the forest. Truly one of Saint Paul's marvelous events. For more information, see last week's blog entry or get it from the horse's mouth at www.barebonespuppets.org/halloween-2010/carnetheria/

For other upcoming event listings, check out our Saint Paul Calendar at http://saintpaulalmanac.org/saint-paul-calendar/

New Almanac writing from Louis DiSanto and Janaly Farias

THINGS WE LOVE: A Minnesota Nice Story: The Lost Wallet

By Louis DiSanto
The only time I ever lost my wallet was at a Twins game in 1972. When I discovered my back pocket was empty, I remember my brother Tom and I running across the parking lot and crawling under a half-open service door to get back into Met Stadium. As we walked through the bowels of that venerable sports palace looking for help, my stomach was in knots thinking about losing over sixty dollars, my driver’s license, credit card and student discount card for Burger King. Suddenly, we spotted a burly figure coming toward us. Was this my angel of mercy?
Read more.

MEMORIES: A Kilometer of Cheese

By Janaly Farias
I will never forget the first time I entered a Mexican store as an eight-year-old and tried to buy something. It was after I had emigrated from the United States to Mexico. I had trouble with ordinary words, like asking to use the bathroom. I had to tell one of my older sisters to do it for me, because they knew more Spanish than I did. One day, my dad sent me to the store to buy leche (milk). I had a very puzzled expression, so my sister slapped me across the head and said, “It’s milk, you retard.” “Well, sorry, miss know-it-all!” I answered her back while rubbing my head. As it turned out, my sister went for the milk.
Read more.

Saint Paul Facts: We got ’em, now you know ’em

DID YOU KNOW? On February 24, 1985, an estimated 25,000 spectators gathered up and down the Mississippi on a Sunday to watch the demolition of the old High Bridge.

Above left: Spectators awaiting demolition of the High Bridge, St. Paul. (Photo: Charles W. Burback/Minnesota Historical Society). Above right: This sequence was taken by Joe Landsberger on his front porch at 169 Goodrich Avenue.

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