Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

I try to make sure that what I write is grammatically correct, as correct as a dumb freight broker can make it. So it bugs me when I see or read things that go clunk. In the past, I’ve written about the labels on hamburger and hot dog buns, and store-bought bagels that proudly announce “pre-sliced.” It seems to me that the word pre would indicate it’s not yet sliced. I can’t imagine a frozen food maker labeling its product “pre-frozen.” Like the word sliced, it’s either frozen or not. After doing some research, though, it seems I’m wrong about what’s grammatically correct in the pre-sliced universe, not the marketing types for the food manufacturers I complain about. So what do I know? Not much. On the other hand, while researching the phrase “Happy Belated Birthday,” a grammatical clunker that hits my psyche in the gut when I hear or see it, my aggravation turned out to be “on the money.” While it’s way too common a greeting, the correct phrasing reverses “Belated” and “Happy." B...

“Steve wrote this article in 1999 for a regional business magazine. The issues still impact life on the North Shore 25 years later.” The challenges of economic development and business operations in rural Minnesota, particularly in Cook County, stand out compared to the larger metro areas of the Twin Ports or the Twin Cities.  After almost 20 years running a freight management/forwarding business in Minneapolis, I achieved a long-held goal of 'retiring' at 40. We sold the suburban Twin Cities house and moved to the north shore of Lake Superior with vague plans for the future.  The lake attracted us. There are more moose than people, and the county has only one stoplight. Yet, less than a year into 'retirement', and facing an imminent visit from the “Capital Gains Tax Collector,” we bought a thriving, albeit relatively small by our standards, publishing and printing business in Grand Marais. Thus, I embarked on a learning curve, adapting to a different way of doing busin...

My availability to commit to a permanent job this summer means I won’t be haunting boat landings, looking for Eurasian Milfoil, Zebra Mussels, and invasive tourists. To reinforce our somewhat precarious financial position, threatened by possible reductions in Social Security pensions and Medicare, I look for any opportunity to earn a few bucks for the piggy bank. So when offered the chance to work a couple of days each week while I can, I jumped on it. The “Hoot” is back in customer service on Friday and Saturday at the Ace Hardware store in the Cook County Home Center. Expect a few stories later. Over the last few weeks, I’ve connected with a bunch of familiar faces at the Home Center. Two conversations, one directly and the other indirectly, were relevant to my work here at the Journal. The first conversation was with a retired educator who lives nearby. Based on the often opinionated typing that comes from my fingertips, he asked me if I’d had people who would disagree with me prowl...

When I think about the initiatives the current Executive Orderer In Chief takes, an ancient proverb comes to mind: "Even a stopped clock is right twice a day." That’s because there are two things he’s asserted that I agree with, and only two.  First, stop producing pennies. It’s common sense. Having spent some time the last few years working at a retail POS (Point of Sale), I learned to dislike copper coins. Every cash register features a countertop penny tray for people to grab some to pay up or drop some to avoid having them in their pockets. Plus, they cost more than a penny to produce.  Second, end Daylight Saving Time (DST). In most of our country, we go through two clock changes to “save” daylight yearly. Losing an hour of sleep in Spring only to regain it in the fall seems silly. The day after the springtime change is often called "Sleepy Monday" due to decreased alertness and productivity in the workplace. The week following the switch in the Spring has been...

Real estate, the selling and buying of it, is on my mind lately. In addition to the ongoing Swedish Death Cleaning the Bohunk and I are engaged in we are considering where we will live in our later years. I mentioned in a previous column that my Mazda Scinta RX-8, which I bought when I was in my 50s, was my end-of-life crisis car--either it would die or I would. Life changes forced me to sell it ten years ago. Similarly, when we bought our house on the ridge in Cook County, both of us thought it would be our last house. We’re not so sure now that we’re in our 70s.  One Sunday, early in 2016, the Bohunk was working in the kitchen of our house in Swansea, IL and I was reading the paper on the living room couch. Out of the blue, she said, “I want to move back to the North Shore when we retire.” “Where will I go?” I said, a bit of panic in my voice. “You can come with me if you want,” she purred. The consulting I was doing could be done remotely. With Social Security eligibility just m...