Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

Before the last remnants of snowbanks melted, I started to see dandelions popping out in the neighborhood. Walking the dog on one of the rare sunny days, I wondered aloud, “How resilient are those yellow-flowered things?” We’ve just wrapped up a long, relatively brutal winter--at least to my mind and the aging body that houses it. Maybe we are the resilient ones of our species, the dandelions of the human race. Like my brown eyes, dandelions seem to have been with me forever. One of the joys of my young life, when school ended, was my solo visits to Crosslake and the time I spent with Clair and Mabel, my mom’s parents.  They lived in a small house that Grandpa built after they sold their resort on Rush Lake, which they named Everglades, without irony. The DIY house was situated behind the schoolhouse, just off the parking area for the Catholic Church, an imposing brick structure that I was never allowed to enter. The driveway encircled a small yard filled with oak trees, a picnic t...

My dissatisfaction with politics and politicians usually simmers in a stewpot of cynicism. But sometimes the pot boils over as it did when the US Court of Supremes ruled on April 29 in the case Louisiana v. Callais. The decision virtually ends racial gerrymandering, the practice of drawing legislative district lines to deliberately increase or decrease the political power of a specific racial or ethnic group. On the other hand, the court said that partisan gerrymandering, drawing boundaries to increase the power of entrenched partisan officeholders, is just ducky. And that’s why I’m boiling.  The Constitution never mentions "redistricting" or "districts" at all. It requires the Census every ten years to, among countless other things, determine how many Representatives each state gets based on population. The number of members in the U.S. House of Representatives was capped at 435 by Congress in 1929, and that is where it stands today. Apparently, the grand poobahs i...

Do you ever notice how podcasters, cable news commentators, politicians, and other agitators make some absurd, illogical, or false statement, followed by, “I’m just asking questions?” What a cop out. For losers like me who pay attention to those scoundrels, we consider them to be “JAQing off” (Just Asking Questions). Trouble is, their loyal followers simply assert the same BS and engage in their own JAQing off.  To gain clicks and followers and get the rest of us pissed off, they avoid the burden of proof and hide from facing accusations of spreading misinformation. By ending with "I’m just asking the question," a podcaster, talking head, or politician thinks they can sidestep a challenging backlash. If you get the chance to question or correct them, they can pivot to, "Why are you so defensive? I didn't say it was true, I just asked if it was possible!" We, the people, have probably practiced this diversion since the beginning of time. It worked to an extent wh...

Apparently, this thing called the Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) is the feeling that others are having more fun than I am. Now that I’m at the “stay off my lawn” stage of life, FOMO doesn’t exist. I’ve moved firmly into JOMO, the Joy of Missing Out. I’m perfectly content to spend my days at home on the Proctor, MN frontier, walking the dogs, puttering in the yard, and going to bed early. I don’t care that I’m missing out. A recent shift from my daily JOMO routine was prompted when our daughter Jess gifted her mom four tickets to 'Music Man' for a one-night show in Duluth last week. I agreed to go, knowing that the Bohunk, who has watched The Music Man movie countless times and attended more stage productions than I have toes, would enjoy it.  Although JOMO is my preferred style, I made an exception for this play. The guy playing Professor Hill was no Robert Preston, but the production was great, and I earned brownie points with 'she who must be obeyed.' I refrained from pos...