FAMILIAR FACES
A poetic life C
hances are, if you get out a bit and know a few people, you’ve run into Ronda Redmond. She was there when Hockey Day Minnesota had a mullet-growing contest (the proof is in the hockey card made for the occasion, the one that shows an illustrated version of her in pink locks and blowing a big bubblegum bubble. She was there — tap dancing, no less — when a group of bon vivants created some joyous musical theater by mashing up Meatloaf’s “Bat out of Hell” with “The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” And she was there — sad and proud — reading from her book of poetry, a feat powered mostly by the kind of fuel you only get when you’ve lost the person you love most. Redmond, who agreed to answer our questions just days before her mother’s funeral, is an example of grace, kindness and strength, and her insights about writing can serve as universal truths about the healing power of artistic expression.
Photo by Pat Christman
NAME:
Ronda Redmond HOMETOWN: Mankato
OCCUPATION: Business analyst
EDUCATION:
MA in literature and women’s studies and MFA in creative writing, both from MSU
FAVORITE LINE FROM A POEM:
Life is an animal still as death near a roadside ditch that you must walk to with a stick and poke so that it can jump and run on any given sunrise. --Dog Days, by Jim Redmond
CURRENT NETFLIX BINGE: I just finished “Ozark,” but I’m itching for the last season of “Better Call Saul” and I’m loving HBO Max’s “Barry.”
16 • JULY 2022 • MANKATO MAGAZINE
MANKATO MAGAZINE: It’s mid-summer, July, dog days of summer, so … the first obvious question is: What prompted you to get involved with Hockey Day Minnesota and grow a mullet? RONDA REDMOND: When Maureen Gustafson calls you up and says, “I’m looking for someone to volunteer for a hair adventure,” you don’t say no. Or at least I don’t. The Mankato Area Foundation has done a lot for the area, and I love the awareness that the JZ Cancer Fund brings to men’s cancers. Too many men don’t pay attention to their health. I was happy to draw attention to both organizations. Also, I got my own hockey card. Though, in my defense, I didn’t realize that was part of the deal until after I agreed to Maureen’s adventure. MM: You’re well known in southern Minnesota as a writer. When did you first discover that writing was something you were good at, and who encouraged you to pursue it? RR: I remember writing this essay about my dog when I was in grade school. I don’t remember the specifics, but it was a moment when my parents seemed genuinely impressed by what I’d done, and I wasn’t much of a student. It stuck with me. I don’t know that they were thrilled when I eventually decided to get an MFA in creative writing, but I got encouragement from creative people I knew. I worked at The Hag for a long time and was sort of in and out of calling myself a writer. Patti Ruskey wouldn’t hear it. She was always asking me if I was writing and give me a hard time if I wasn’t. Sometimes fledgling artists need people around them who call them artists. It helps give them the courage they need to claim the title and do the work. But the one thing that I’ve heard over and over, starting when I was a kid, is people saying “Ya, that is exactly what I mean,” or “That’s exactly what it’s like.” My biggest charge as a writer is when I can find a way to say something that hits. A lot of time it comes from a really simple use of
