Some days trees are all I see. Today they’re getting fringed in leaves at the crown. Underneath there’s a huge ball of root that nobody sees except my son...
Harriet E. Bishop is a name familiar to anyone interested in the history of Saint Paul. Born in Vermont, Bishop came to Minnesota in 1847 and here achieved many firsts—Saint Paul’s first teacher, founder of the first Sunday school in Minnesota, first leader of the women’s suffrage movement, and a driving force behind several social movements. She was well known in the city’s literary circles and wrote about Minnesota and Saint Paul, though her writings often include language that today would be considered racist, revealing attitudes toward Native Americans common to the era but whose effects are still felt to this day.
jagged rocks dusted red bleed rose water from ancient springs who was baptized here saved and sustained by sacrificial land...
John Moe is the host of Wits, a national public radio show based in Saint Paul. Noted for skimming “the cream off a few decades of local and national indie scenes,” the show features writers, comedians, and musicians. John has brought such guests as Fred Willard, Rosanne Cash, Martha Wainwright, and Julia Sweeney to the historic Fitzgerald Theater. A widely published author as well as a reporter, he lives in Saint Paul with his family.
In praise of buses rattling through the streets In praise of passengers jostling for a seat In praise of a transfer I didn’t need to buy In praise of snow falling from the sky, and my down coat Bought secondhand but warm...
Dale Massie pulls for the little guy. “I’m pulling for the little guy, like you and me. God gives us free will. We have no excuse. You know what I’m saying?” While he smoked his break away, we engaged and enjoyed a free-ranging dialogue that touched on aliens, human violence, the many names for God...
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.
I’m sure there are many who say they love Saint Paul more than any other place on earth, but for me to say that would be an understatement. That’s because living anywhere outside of downtown Saint Paul would be like being in jail. I live in the heart of the skyway system in downtown, and for me it is freedom. You see, I am both deaf and blind.
In the early 1940s, we lived on the East Side of Saint Paul near Hazelwood and Seventh streets, where streetcars stopped almost in front of our house. One of my earliest memories is of waiting for the streetcar to bring my grandfather and aunts home from their downtown jobs at the central post office and The Emporium and Schuneman's, two of the large department stores.
Gone are the days when I could sneak out of the house to get a few groceries without even brushing my hair. Now I have to look decent because I know people will stare, smile, and wave at me the whole way. Ever since we bought an electric car, I feel like I'm a float in a parade wherever I go.
I recently learned that the Saint Paul Hotel will celebrate its one hundredth anniversary in 2010. I wanted to make sure its role in our city's history was acknowledged in some manner. Perhaps my own personal reflections as a former employee and later a guest can contribute.
By Kevin FitzPatrick ● 2008
"You'll get a ticket parked that way," I called. A slim black woman in cleaning clothes that workers wear at Regions Hospital had parked her rusty car along the curb, but pointed south, the wrong way on that street.