Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

It’s been a year since the Bohunk and I left the wilderness compound on the Ridge alongside Lake Superior and returned to our roots in what is euphemistically called a manufactured home community. After spending a year in two different apartment buildings following our nuptials half a century ago, we bought a trailer house (they didn’t even call them mobile homes) in 1974. That community was alongside the soon-to-be-created Minnesota Zoo. As 20-somethings, newly parents, we decided that we didn’t mind starting life on society’s ladder as trailer trash. What goes around, comes around. After five decades of wedded bliss, and both of us sliding home to the average lifespan, our days follow a certain relaxed pattern. We may have had bucket lists, although they weren’t a thing until the movie Bucket List debuted in 2007; I don’t recall where they might be. It’s possible that if we had them, they’ve been lost about five houses ago. We’ve seen and done a fair amount over the years. These days...

Remember when the best comeback to a bully in school was, “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Of course, that statement is bullshit. The rhyme was meant to be a feel-good way for kids to fight back. The line first appeared in print in the mid-19th century in The Christian Recorder in March 1862, where it was introduced as an "old adage" taught to children. No adult, except a psychopath perhaps, can say they never hear hurtful words flung at them. Nor can they say they haven’t hurled hurtful words at others. I’ve heard and hurled my fair share of words with the power to hurt, sometimes accidentally. Putting words in their proper place does help you to keep your sanity, though.  I’ve been thinking a lot about another trope from school days that seems timeless: "The pen is mightier than the sword." The sentiment in this seven-word pronouncement is that persuasion, communication, and intellect are more effective means of changing the wo...

One of the promised benefits of old age is that life gets easier. The calendar and the clock would have far less impact on daily life. Social Security keeps groceries on the table. Medicare and an apple a day keep the doctor away. In reality, those promises are no different than the one a delinquent customer makes when he says, “The check is in the mail.” Since moving to metro Duluth a year ago, we have needed to find primary care doctors because we both rely on medication to keep the grim reaper at bay. Or so we’ve been told. Last March, the Bohunk had an appointment with the clinic on the other side of US 2 to get her prescription regimen renewed. She also had scheduled her “free” annual Medicare wellness visit.  Even though we’ve been insured under Medicare for eight years, and even though our clinic in Grand Marais included the “annual wellness visit (AWV)” in our annual physical/drug renewal visits, we really didn’t understand what it was all about. In April, after the big-nam...

If I had a quarter for all the times I heard this when I was struggling to become an adult, I’d be Musk-like rich. “Don’t get too big for your britches, young man.” Whenever the sin of pride reared its ugly head, Mom, Dad, or one of the other parent figures in my life would knock me down a peg or two. They’d tell me that the seams eventually rip, and the fall from grace isn't graceful when a person gets too big for their britches.  I have vivid memories of pitching in an East Richfield Little League baseball game in the 60s. Our fields were fenced all round with real dugouts for coaches and gear. Home plate and the bases were real, not soaked paper plates held down with large stones. Our uniforms were made of real wool, with stirrup socks and fitted caps. And I was king of the mound. At some critical moment, I was pitching to the opposing team's best hitter. My nerves were running high, and after what seemed then to be a historic duel, I threw a third strike for the third out. ...