Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

My sister tells me that in her medical records from when she was a wee one it was noted that “the mother is a hypochondriac.” My sister always “corrects” my memory of our family from those days. Yet she didn’t disagree when I said that our mother, who lived to be almost ninety, enjoyed ill health for a very long time. Even when we were young. She was a great caregiver for family members who faced health issues. Our house was the place to be when preparing for or recovering from hospital stays and for the family to gather for tears and laughter during those visits. She also took great care of us kids. She was a Florence Nightengale when I had Mononucleosis in the fourth grade and was quarantined for six weeks. The tutor my school sent encouraged Mom to get me to read-- and let me read anything I wanted. Comic books to Hardy Boys and the biographies of sports heroes were on the list. That’s when I picked up a lifelong reading habit. When she didn’t have others to care for, Mom would find...

Ron Engler of Grand Marais, who writes under the pen name Christopher Eng, wrote a book of poetry titled “The Old Man’s Poet.” It was published last year by Dorrance Publishing. His second book of poems is currently in production at the publisher. Engler is a vigorous 82-year-old veteran born in St. Paul, MN. He served eight years in the US Navy. Next, he served with the US Marines, spending 13 years in Vietnam and then13 years in Japan. Before settling in Grand Marais in 2016, Engler traveled for 15 years throughout the western United States. This book is the culmination of his observations during those travels and visits here on the North Shore. Engler received his BS degree at West Texas State in Canyon, TX, and an MS degree from Baylor University in Waco, TX. “I was told by my professors back then that I could write poetry,” Engler said. “I made a couple of attempts but not really seriously until I was traveling.” Engler shared some of his poetry with someone at the Grand Marais Li...

At family gatherings when we were just a young couple, barely into our twenties, with two blonde-haired pixies (there was more to come), we attended family gatherings during the holidays that sometimes included Aunt Betty. Betty had a hard life, including poor health. She also had a nasally voice that grated on me. Every time, she would greet me she’d add a comment, especially after seeing the girls, “You’re so lucky.” Back then I was a hard-working and semi-intelligent young man who did a passable job providing housing, food, and love to my family. I, and my unfortunate ego, deeply resented the idea that I was just lucky.  Now that I’m officially an old man, and can reflect on a long life with humility and gratitude, I have to admit that I shouldn’t have been peeved at dear Aunt Betty--or most of the other folks who rubbed me wrong with their conclusions when humility still eluded me.  In his book, The Luck Factor, Professor Richard Wiseman of the University of Hertfordshire,...

By now the election results should be final in most contests. If you’re happy or not with the results, let’s agree that democracy as we’ve created it is a powerful governing system. It’s been another campaign season where people are cruel to each other, sneezing out lies like they are the coronavirus.  People might be more interested in elections and governing if this weren’t true. Still, those in charge of the system make the most money when they turn people off to the process, getting them to vote against people and policies (or not at all) rather than voting for someone or something. We all give in to nostalgia for simpler days, when people didn’t seem to despise each other over policy disagreements and elections. Those days didn’t exist. I recently found a column I wrote in July of 1997, 25 years ago, about arguing and compromise. Spurring the column was a guest commentary by a local Real Estate Broker about the affordable housing shortage and how arguing among citizens needed ...