Mankatomag 9 17

HOME SWEEEET HOME We take a tour of some of the finest housing in town … and the weirdest

How a PREEMIE beat the odds Enter the SMACKING ZONE with Becky Fjelland-Brooks From legal briefs to literature:

ALLEN ESKENS

Lori and Dr. Michael Wolf SEPTEMBER 2017 $2.95

The Free Press MEDIA

Speaking of Health:

Connect with Others

Mayo Clinic Health System is proud to support health and wellness in our community.

Water exercise class at VINE Adult Community Center in Mankato.

Give your family a health boost: Connecting with others can help you reduce stress, depression, anxiety and fatigue. Making time for friends and family can also help you cope with traumatic events, improve selfconfidence and guide healthy decisions. This fall, be intentional about making new connections or joining a class or support group. Remember that little interactions count — a coffee with a friend or a brief chat with neighbor can help your physical and mental health, too.

Expert Insight Connections with others are like a teeter totter. They help us manage the ups and downs. Without connections, we remain stuck on the ground or are left hanging.

Our connections — people and communities — provide balance and promote a healthy lifestyle.

— Sharon Dexheimer Licensed Independent Clinical Social Worker Mayo Clinic Health System

mayoclinichealthsystem.org

Make time to connect Join a support group.

Support groups provide preventive and ongoing care for patients, their families and caregivers. Topics include breast-feeding, bariatric surgery, stroke, diabetes, cancer and grief.

Attend a speaking of health presentation.

Mayo Clinic Health System experts will be sharing the latest health and wellness information in the community this fall. Topics include cooking for a small household, exercise and heart health, and neuropathy.

For dates and times, visit mayoclinichealthsystem.org and click on “Classes and Events”.

LOCAL MRI BETTER VALUE You have state-of-the-art MRI and imaging technology, right here in Mankato. It’s the cutting-edge of Orthopaedic care, and it’s yours to access without traveling far. Imagine that.

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GOLFERS FROM AROUND THE WORLD COME TO CHALLENGE THE JUDGE and the two other golf courses in Prattville at RTJ Capitol Hill. Bring your clubs and come take on Judge hole number 1, voted the favorite hole on the Trail. Complete your day in luxury at the Marriott and enjoy dining, firepits and guest rooms overlooking the Senator golf course. With the Marriott’s 20,000 square feet of meeting space, 96 guest rooms and luxurious Presidential Cottage combined with three world-class golf courses, business and pleasure can definitely interact in Prattville.

THE ROBERT TRENT JONES GOLF TRAIL AT CAPITOL HILL offers three magnificent 18-hole championship golf courses.

The Marriott Prattville is part of the Resort Collection on Alabama’s Robert Trent Jones Golf Trail.

Visit www.rtjgolf.com or call 800.949.4444 to learn more.

F EATUR ES SEPTEMBER 2017 Volume 12, Issue 9

16

Home sweet home!

Join us on a tour of some of the finest living quarters in Mankato.

And one weird one.

22

Signature Grace

Twelve years ago, her survival was a long shot. Today, Grace Schwertfeger is proving the experts wrong.

28

The ‘Smacking Zone’

Author Becky Fjelland-Brooks reminds us that living a full life means sometimes taking risks.

ABOUT THE COVER Lori and Dr. Michael Wolf stand proudly outside their Mankato home.

They were photographed by Jackson Forderer.

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 3

DEPARTMENTS 6 From the Editor 8 This Day in History 9 The Gallery

9

Video artist Leralee Whittle

10 Beyond the Margin Godspeed, Vikings 12 Familiar Faces Allen Eskens 14 Day Trip Destinations

UofM’s Raptor Center

32 Then & Now The Great War 35 Food, Drink & Dine 36 Food

Grilling tips

10

38 Wine

Wines of Chile and Argentina

39 Beer Tilting to September 40 Food

The great Minnesota Get Together

43 That’s Life Little boxes

12

14

44 Garden Chat Tales of baby corn 46 Your Style Ashy complexion. Puffy eyelids.

Universal issues, bipartisan

solutions.

48 Coming Attractions 49 Faces & Places 52 From This Valley Bicycling apostle

43 4 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

46

Coming in October

Who are some of the area’s best musicians? Well, we’ll tell you next month.

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ƪƘƳƱ ƷƬƩ ƥƶƶƳƧƭƥƷƩ ƩƨƭƷƳƘ

By Robb Murray SEPTEMBER 2017 • VOLUME 12, ISSUE 9 PUBLISHER

Steve Jameson

EDITOR Joe Spear ASSOCIATE Robb Murray EDITOR CONTRIBUTORS Nell Musolf Pete Steiner Jean Lundquist Leigh Pomeroy Bert Mattson Leticia Gonzales Ann Rosenquist Fee Bryce O. Stenzel James Figy Amanda Dyslin Becky Fjelland-Brooks

PHOTOGRAPHERS Pat Christman Jackson Forderer PAGE DESIGNER

Christina Sankey

ADVERTISING Phil Seibel MANAGER ADVERTISING Jordan Greer SALES Josh Zimmerman Marianne Carlson Theresa Haefner ADVERTISING Barb Wass ASSISTANT ADVERTISING Sue Hammar DESIGNERS Christina Sankey CIRCULATION Justin Niles DIRECTOR

Mankato Magazine is published by The Free Press Media monthly at 418 South Second St., Mankato MN 56001.

To subscribe, call 1-800-657-4662 or 507-625-4451. $35.40 for 12 issues.

For editorial inquiries, call Robb Murray at 344-6386, or e-mail rmurray@mankatofreepress.com.

For advertising, call 344-6364, or e-mail advertising@mankatofreepress.com.

6 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

The puck stops HERE O

ur cover story this month was kind of a bear. Took me a while to write. Took ǔ

ű

it was going to be, how I was going to cobble all these juicy pieces together.

It takes readers on a tour of a few of the more upscale abodes in town. We visit the Wolf home in Mankato, the Brielmaier home in Lake Crystal, the new M2 upscale apartments and then, for a kind of odd balance, we visit a man who spends most of his time in his own personal shire, though he’s far from a hobbit.

One of the details stuck with me, though.

In the Wolf home, near the Ping Pong table they bought at Walmart for $99, there are little pieces of paint chipped off the wall. The blemishes come from paddles, or perhaps aggressively thrown

Ų Ǖ Ǖ teeth. They are signs of a heated game of table tennis, for sure.

They’re also signs of LIFE. When I was a kid, we’d spend hours during the winter months skating on our outdoor playground hockey rinks, losing pucks through the slits in the wooden dasher boards, spraying fresh water on the ice sheet at night, scraping snow from the rinks with shovels taller than we were.

But in the warmer months, the months where more baseball than hockey was played at that playground, we’d continue our hockey pursuits in my basement.

In our younger years, it was plastic floor-hockey sticks and tennis balls. Eventually, though, we started shooting around actual hockey pucks.

I remember when we moved out of that house. It was springtime of my senior year of high school. I

Ǖ ļ \

Ų coop. But as we packed everything up, I noticed something.

My folks had never gotten

Ǖ

Ǖ ű Ǖ

basement walls of all those puck marks. My guess is that, if my mother were still of sound mind and my father were still alive, they’d probably say the puck marks remained because they were just too lazy to do anything about it.

But as a parent, I have a hunch there might be another factor involved.

Parents spend so much time ragging on their children to clean up their rooms and to put their toys away and to stop leaving piles of shoes just inside the front door.

But the truth is, when those strewn toys are gone, when those untidy rooms are empty, when the front door is forever clear of shoe piles, a kind of sadness will take their place.

Staring at those puck marks that day, I realized I was leaving s o m e t h i n g b e h i n d t h a t I ’d probably never get back. Those puck marks are emblems of what the essence of “home” feels like.

They are evidence. They proof.

We didn’t just live there … We LIVED there.

We’ve tried to get at that essence a little bit in this month’s cover story. And if we’ve failed, well … at least it’s a fun tour of a few great places to live.

Robb Murray is associate editor of Mankato Magazine. Contact him at 344-6386 or rmurray@ mankatofreepress.com. Follow him on Twitter @freepressRobb.

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This Day in history

By Jean Lundquist

Sunday, Sept. 4, 1985 Viking’s practice is part of a Mankato family’s tradition The Jim Keckeisen family of Mankato made coach Bud Grant of the Vikings realize just how many years he’s been directing the fortunes of the Purple and White. The scene was the final practice of the Vikings at Mankato State on Thursday. The Vikings were leaving Blakeslee Field when Mrs. Kate Keckeisen asked Bud if he would pose for a picture with her 11 year old son Kasey. Bud, as he always does, honored the request.

This is our fifth child we’ve had with pictures taken with you, all individually, Kate told Grant. “Well that’s interesting,” Grant said.

“When was the first one?” Nineteen years ago, in 1967, your first year here, Keckeisen told him. “Sorry I asked,” Grant replied. “I didn’t want to hear that.

Saturday, Sept. 27, 1902 County organization of grocers wants patrons to pay their bills Grocers of the city, to the number of about 20, met at city hall last night, smoked cigars, and talked about the price of produce and matters of credit. A plan to have all the grocers of the county organized was favored so that a man cannot run up a grocer bill in one place, leave it unpaid, and move away to another point in the county, and run up a bill there. With such an organization, no grocer would extend credit to anyone who owed another grocer in the county a bill. They believe the Merchant’s Protective Society does not meet their needs, and an organization of their own would work better.

Thursday, Sept. 19, 1929 Boy, aged 3, run over by corn binder, badly injured Stanley LaFavor, 3-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. George LaFavor of Garden City, was seriously injured when he was run over by a corn binder yesterday afternoon. The boy had carried a lunch to his father, who was cutting corn in a field near their farm home. His father sent Stanley back to the house, and it’s thought the lad had lay down in the cornfield, and went to sleep. The boy was wearing a tan colored sweater that blended perfectly with the color of the dry cornstalks, so LaFavor failed to see him laying in the path of the binder. Stanley was rushed to St. Joseph Hospital in Mankato immediately after the accident.

Tuesday, Sept. 9, 1958 After two weeks, no sign of Mrs. Olson Mrs. Vincent Olson, St. James housewife, is still missing after two weeks. Watonwan County Sheriff’s officials say there isn’t a single trace of Mrs. Olson since the one confirmed report that she was seen in downtown St. James several hours later the night she disappeared from her mother’s farm home, just outside of St. James. Officials said that the family hopes that a check drawn against a joint account at the St. James Bank will turn up. She has not contacted relatives. The Watonwan County Sheriff says he is sure Mrs. Olson is not in the St. James area, but he is at a loss to explain where she might be, or where to continue the search.

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The Gallery: Leralee Whittle Story by Leticia Gonzales

Annnnddd … ACTION F

Fairmont artist uses video to make a statement

rom an early age, Leralee Whittle, a video artist and choreographer from Fairmont, has loved to dance to the rhythmic beats of Michael Jackson and Annie Lennox, to the electrifying creations of Prince and David Bowie. Whittle, who is also a performer and teacher, has since developed into an athlete through song and movement.

“You could say 80’s music, my connection with Muse and my parents’ own past touring dance and song in various countries, all inspired me to dance,” she said. “My father’s idealization of arts culture and his own commitment, as a writer of fiction was a huge influence on me in pursuing a creative practice. As kids, he spoke to my sister and I about the allure of dancing and acting lessons, but never got them for us, so maybe the performing arts developed a mystique for me early on.”

After receiving formal training in dance theater and modern dance with highly-skilled teachers, and through studying visual arts and theater, Whittle began to develop her own style.

“By my mid-20’s, I was engrossed in postmodern dance, dance improvisation and somatics in the San Francisco Bay Area,” Whittle said.

Whether it was a collaboration with Touring Artist and theoretician Nita Little, or dancing in San Francisco or Barcelona, Whittle began to expand her repertoire and technique. In her 30s,she branched out with West African Dance with a mixture of Senegalese, interdisciplinary improvisation groups and theater.

“By 35, I was a touring artist and received funding,” she continued. “I added some video I shot while traveling to these staged performances, and I liked the effect.”

Video quickly became the main focus of her work.

“For the past eight years, I’ve basically parlayed choreographic skills and my audio-visual-kinesthetic

sensibilities from years of creative process into video editing,” she added. “Both the visual and rhythmic aspects in choreographic work are applicable to creating video art. On a technical level, I’m a self-taught video editor.”

Her work now incorporates dance with video installations, along with the music of her collaborators, and are shown in galleries, theaters, dance studios, music venues and sports facilities.

“One of the biggest influences on my content preferences has to do with the environments,” expressed Whittle. “I establish a relationship between spaces I find and the animated body — sort of like living in a habitat. I shoot in city parks, natural preserves, studios and athletic facilities. In fact, I created performance and video installations on basketball courts in Kansas and Missouri that included videos of myself and others using sports fields, courts and gyms for dance and body-based art in these often vacant albeit hugely funded places for sports.”

Whittle’s work has recently earned her grants from the Prairie Lakes Regional Arts Council, the Spencer Museum of Art at the University of Kansas, and the Charlotte Street Foundation for public works. She was also awarded an outof-state residency by CounterPulse in San Francisco for video and dance.

“I work on a lot of fronts to make my art career go,” stated Whittle. “In other words, I diversify with marketplace and grant-supported dance, as well as teaching and am now trying to make video something people can buy without it being part of a grant supported work. It’s a full-time balancing act to place inquiries, maintain a creative practice, read, write grants, create and produce projects, entertain discourse, collaborate and to coordinate touring and to tour.”

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 9

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By Joe Spear

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¡ ¼«Ã¢ Ê¡ÊØã ¼ «Ã ãØ «Ã«Ã¢ ÂÕʈ a¨ ã ÂʰÜ ÊÃãØ ã ô«ã¨ à ØÜÊà ô Ü èÕ Ã Ã ô # Ã Ø ¼ A à ¢ Ø ¨Ø«Ü ¼¼ Ø ʃ ô¨Ê  Êà «Ã 7 Ãè Øúʃ ¨ ãÊ Â ¹ ×è« ¹ «Ü«ÊÃʈ ) ãʼ 㨠ã ÂʰÜ Ê¼ãÜʈ Ê ôØ«ã Ø 9 ó«Ã Êô Ãʂ ʭa¨ ÊÃãØ ã ô Ü èÕ ã à ØÜÊÃʈ ʛa¨ ʼãÜʜ ¨ ¨ ÊèÕ¼ Êã¨ Ø Õ¼ ÃÜ «Ã Õ¼ ʃ à , ¶èÜã « Ãʰã ¡ ¼ Ê¡ÊØã ¼ ô«ã¨ 㨠ܫãè ã«ÊÃÜ ã¨ ã ô ô Ø ÂÊó«Ã¢ «ÃãÊ ã 㨠ã«Â 㨠ã ô Ü ã¨ Üã 㨫â ¡ÊØ ÊèØ ã  à ¡ÊØ ÊèØ ã ÂʰÜ ¨ à ãÊ ¢ ã Ø ú ãÊ ô«Ãʈʮ ¼¼ Ø Ü « ¨ «Ü ó Øú ÊÕ Ã ãÊ ¢Ê«Ã¢ ¹ ãÊ Ê¡¡ʢÜ«ã ãØ «Ã«Ã¢ ÂÕÜʈ ʭ, ¼Êó aØ «Ã«Ã¢ ÂÕ ô¨ à ô Ø ¼ ãÊ ¢Ê ô úʃ à ÊèØ ¡ ÃÜ Ã ¢ ã ÜÜ ãÊ ÊèØ Õ¼ ú ØÜ ã¨ ã 㨠ú èÜè ¼¼ú Ãʰã ¢ ãʈ à , Õʼʢ«ÿ ãÊ ÊèØ ¡ ÃÜ ¡ÊØ ÃÊ㠫â ¼ ãÊ Ê ã¨ ã ã¨«Ü ú Øʈ )ÊÕ ¡è¼¼ú ¢Ê«Ã¢ ¡ÊØô Ø ô ʰ¼¼ ¼ ãÊ ÊØØ ã 㨠ãʈ ʭ,¡ ô à ăà ռ 㨠ã ô 㨫ù «Ü Üè«ã ¼ à «Ü ô«Ãʢô«Ã ¡ÊØ Ê㨠㨠ռ ô ʰØ ¢Ê«Ã¢ʃ à ¡ÊØ èÜʃ ô¨ Ø ô à ÕØ Õ Ø ʃ ú ¨ʃ 㨠ã Êè¼ ¨ ÕÕ Ãʈʮ H¡ ÊèØÜ ã¨ ãØ Ã «Ü ¡ÊØ ã ÂÜ ãÊ ¨ ó ãØ «Ã«Ã¢ ÂÕ ã 㨠«Ø ãØ «Ã«Ã¢ ¡ «¼«ã« Üʈ ZÊ Ȼȹ Ê¡ ȼȻ B"; ã ÂÜ Ê ÜÊ ÃÊôʈ r ʰ¼¼ ¨Ê¼ Êèã ¨ÊÕ ã¨ ã 㨠q«¹«Ã¢Ü à  ¹ 㨠¡ à ùÕ Ø« à «Ã ¢ à ¶èÜã Ü ¢ÊÊ Ü ã¨ ú  «ã «Ã A ù ãÊʈ èã 㨠úʰ¼¼ ¨ ó ãÊ è«¼ ¼Êã «ÃãÊ ã¨ ã Üè èØ Ã ùÕ Ø« à ãÊ Â ¹ èÕ ¡ÊØ ȾȻ ú ØÜ Ê¡ ãØ «ã«ÊÃʈ Joe Spear is editor of Mankato Magazine.

Contact him at jspear@mankatofreepress.com or 344-6382. Follow on Twitter @jfspear.

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 11

Familiar Faces: Allen Eskens

By Amanda Dyslin

No objections ...

Former Mankato attorney Allen Eskens retired his legal career to ride the wave of a successful publishing career

A

llen Eskens’ debut novel was met with the kind of success most writers never achieve.

“The Life We Bury” was published in October 2014, spent 14 weeks on the USA Today’s Best-Selling Books list, and was nominated for seven awards, winning three of them.

Eskens followed his debut novel with another book each year, including this year’s Minnesota Book Award winner for Genre Fiction “The Heavens May Fall.” His fourth novel, “The Deep Dark Descending,” will hit stores on Oct. 3.

“My work has been translated into 20 different languages, and my debut novel is being developed for a feature film,” Eskens said.

Perhaps most surprising, Eskens’ writing career has, until recently, been his second one. For 25 years he was a highly successful attorney. But, as it turns out, there are only so many hours in the day.

“I am no longer practicing law. I closed my practice at the end of 2016, and now I spend my days in my basement with my dogs at my feet and my laptop on my lap,” he said. “I enjoyed practicing law for 25 years, but writing is my true passion.”

Here is a bit more from Eskens about his craft.

Mankato Magazine: What kind of books did you enjoy reading growing up?

Allen Eskens: I didn’t like to read when I was growing up. I think that I’m different from many writers in that respect. I was drawn to writing not because I loved to read, but because I loved to daydream. The only comment my teacher made on my first grade report card was that I dreamed too much in school.

That habit has followed me throughout my life, and now I write down my daydreams and they become books.

MM: When did you start writing and what inspired it?

AE: I started writing after I finished law school. I had originally gone to college to study theater, which

12 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

Name:

Allen Eskens

Age: 54 City of residence: Cleveland Job title: Author Family: I live with my wife, Joely, in rural Le Sueur County, along with our two rescue dogs and a cat. We also have an adult daughter living in Madison, Wis. fostered my creative side. After changing my major to journalism, and then getting a law degree, I felt as though the creative side to my personality was dwindling, so I started writing in order to revive it. As I delved deeper and deeper into the craft of writing, I came to love it. I studied writing for a couple of decades before I decided that I should try my hand at getting my work published. That was 2011, and the resulting novel was “The Life We Bury.”

MM: You have an undergraduate degree in journalism.

Did you consider writing non-fiction stories? What drew you to fiction?

AE: Because I come at this from the perspective of a daydreamer, the stories I write are the product of my imagination, and I haven’t thought of writing nonfiction. However, I love history and there are a couple of stories that have piqued my interest, although I

would probably approach the project as a historical fiction rather than writing the nonfiction version.

MM: Where do you pull most of your inspiration for your stories?

AE: My stories start with a seed of an idea, and I build from that. For example, “The Life We Bury” began with two ideas. First, my protagonist would be a college student who goes to a nursing home to interview a stranger as part of a class assignment. (This assignment was one that I did when I was in college). Through his interviews, he is pulled into a 30-year-old mystery. The second seed was that the student was running away from home to go to college. What he was running from would form the personal journey of the novel. With those two seeds in mind, I start daydreaming the rest of the story.

MM: Some people might think being a criminal defense attorney and a fiction writer are worlds apart. How has each career path/ passion influenced the other?

AE: There was a time when I swore that I would never write a mystery. I studied writing with the notion that I would write character-driven, literary novels.

At the same time, I practiced law as a criminal defense attorney, so I knew police and courtroom procedure. With that knowledge, I was drawn to story ideas that dealt with solving crimes, although I resisted for years. Then, one day, I read a truly bad mystery by a famous author and I thought to myself, I could do better. That’s when I set out to write my first mystery.

At the same time, it was

important to me that I not write a standard mystery.

I loved character-driven stories more than plot-driven ones. I think that is why my stories have a strong emphasis on the character story, not just in the solving of the mystery. When I wrote my first novel, I intentionally had an average Joe as my protagonist instead of a cop or an attorney. I wanted the story to be about the relationship between Joe and his brother, even though it was told in the guise of being a mystery.

MM: How did you find time to write that first novel, and were your intentions to jump start a writing career with it?

AE: I love writing. It was something I did as a hobby for decades — just for my own enjoyment. When I decided to write a novel with an eye toward getting published, I of course hoped that people might read what I wrote. I never expected it to take off the way it did. I thought that I would spend years building up a readership in the hopes that someday I would have enough of a base of support to transition into writing full time.

That it happened in two years was a shock.

MM: Most writers dream of finding the kind of success that you did with your debut novel.

What do you think it was about the book that connected with so many people and literary critics?

AE: I’ve asked myself that question many times. I think that what made “The Life We Bury” special was that the story, a mystery, is really the story of two brothers and the guilt of one brother leaving the other behind. The book opens after Joe, my

protagonist, has already run away from home to go to college, leaving his younger, autistic brother in the hands of their dysfunctional mother. While the novel leads the reader into the heart of a 30-year-old mystery, the mystery is really a vehicle through which I tell the story of the brothers. Joe, my protagonist, is haunted by his decision to leave his brother behind. He must either learn to live with his guilt, or accept that he is his brother’s keeper. It is that struggle that has captivated so many readers.

MM: What can people expect next? Is the best yet to come?

AE: There are some terribly exciting things on the horizon.

“The Life We Bury” is being developed as a feature film by Mary Jane Skalski and Damon Lane of Next Wednesday Films who are working with an established Hollywood writer/ director on the adaptation. I’m also currently working on the sequel to “The Life We Bury,” and I have my sixth book under contract, which will be a prequel of sorts. It will tell the story of Boady Sanden, one of the characters from both “The Life We Bury” and “The Heavens May Fall,” but it will go back to when he was an awkward kid in 1976.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that I am excited about my fourth book, “The Deep Dark Descending,” which comes out on Oct. 3. I’ll be hosting a launch party and book signing at Barnes and Noble in Mankato on Oct. 5, and I have been honored with an invitation to be the keynote speaker at the Deep Valley Book Festival in Mankato on Oct. 7.

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 13

Day Trip Destinations: UofM’s Raptor Center

By James Figy

Raptors

reclaim the sky

Get up close and personal with birds of prey Photos courtesy of The Raptor Center

E

ach year the Raptor Center invites the public

to watch as rehabilitated birds of prey leave behind both the illness or injury

that once plagued and grounded them.

“Hope is the thing with feathers,” wrote poet Emily Dickinson. The quote resonates with Julia Ponder, executive director of the University of Minnesota Raptor Center. It resonates even more in the fall when the sentiment appears in the flesh — a bird that fought serious sickness or injury once again taking flight.

14 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

IF YOU GO

The Raptor Center’s annual release Where: Carpenter St. Croix Valley Nature Center in Hastings, Minn.

When: Sept. 23, 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Admission: Free Visit raptor.umn.edu for more information

Raptor Center staff will release three birds in the morning and three more in the afternoon at the Sept. 23 raptor release at the Carpenter St. Croix Valley Nature Center in Hastings. However, the event will offer activities all day for children and adults, so Ponder advises people to arrive early to learn and avoid parking problems.

“If we have good weather, we’ll have 3,000 people or more come out to see the event,” Ponder said.

“It’s a chance for us to give back to the community as well as to give these birds a second chance at life.”

The Raptor Center rehabilitates birds of prey at U of M’s St. Paul campus, near the State Fairgrounds. The Center has grown since it was established in 1974, and last year it treated more than 1,000 birds, according to Ponder, a doctor of veterinary medicine.

Sometimes the birds — a variety of eagles, hawks, owls, falcons and others — have suffered serious cuts, broken bones or become sick from ingesting poisonous chemicals. Sometimes they were just too young to fly when their nest suddenly fell, leaving them vulnerable to unwitting people,

pets and other animals. Whatever the bird’s story, Raptor Center veterinarians take the birds “under their wing,” so to speak, until the animal is healthy enough to soar.

“Having spent so much time with the injured and ill birds in the clinic, I never tire of seeing a healthy bird take flight again,” Ponder said, noting that each raptor release is a special event.

“We want people to know and understand raptors,” she added, “because knowing and understanding raptors ... is how we engage people to want to take care of our natural world.”

However, for those unable to attend the release, the Raptor Center offers community education events and tours of its facility in St. Paul. These feature its winged ambassadors, 30 birds of prey that remain permanently

to help teach guests. The site has multiple displays about raptors and their environment, and anyone can visit for a small admission charge from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesdays through Fridays and noon to 4 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays.

Along with research and rehabilitation, educating the public is a very important part of what the Raptor Center does, said Ponder, who started working there in 2002 as a volunteer. The Center relies on the community for support and funding, so its educational programs and annual raptor release allow it to give back to those who keep it going.

“We strive to understand the challenges that these birds are facing in a landscape and environment that’s been altered by humans. As we understand those (challenges) better, creating a more sustainable world is all about influencing change, and that’s what the education is about,” Ponder said.

“We want people to know and understand raptors,” she added, “because knowing and understanding raptors ... is how we engage people to want to take care of our natural world.”

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 15

The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.

— Maya Angelou

Home

Lori and Dr. Wolf in their home theater in the basement of their house. Dr. Wolf also has his home office in the back of the room.

Sweeeet Home

The idea of ‘home’ means something different to everyone.

So let’s take a look at some of the more extreme examples of home — on both ends of the spectrum Story by Robb Murray | Photos by Pat Christman and Jackson Forderer 16 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

A home gym in the basement of the Wolf house.

I

’m on a quest. Not the kind you’d find in Tolkien novels or video games — I’m not searching for dragons to slay or gold to plunder.

I’m searching for something far, far more valuable.

Home.

Not a home in which to live.

I’ve got one of those. Instead, I’m searching for the “essence” of home. The Mankato area contains myriad different ways people find it. From multi-million-dollar palaces to the humblest of carved out hillsides, you can find people living happily just about everywhere.

So I decided to take a grand tour of how we live. But to do that, I needed a guide. A Gandalf, if you will. Someone who knows the community, someone with access to troves of information that may elude the average seeker. Someone, frankly, with a Realtors’ license.

But who to call … Mankato is full of great Realtors.

I thought I’d call upon someone who has not only sold hundreds of homes of all price levels, but who is also super nice. I first met Jen True when — true story —

she surrendered one of her kidneys to save a stranger’s life. I figured that, if I’m going to spend a few days with a Realtor, I should pick one who is the nicest person in whatever room she happens to be in.

“OK!” she says, standing tall in a dress the same color as her trademark orange True Real Estate logo. “Are you ready to see this place?”

I am.

We hop in True’s black Infiniti and head just south of Mankato where the family is selling their home for a little over $1 million.

“You’re going to love these people,” True says.

We head over to Trail Drive and roll up to the home of Dr. Michael and Lori Wolf.

Swanksville.

It’s nearly 7,000 impeccable square feet that is exactly as it should be.

“This is our dream house,” Lori Wolf says. “We designed every inch and we love every inch.”

The family room is awash in light. The giant windows overlook an impossibly green yard.

“These are the largest windows

you can buy for a house,” she says.

Adds Dr. Wolf, “We watched from here as they imploded Gage Towers.”

The windows aren’t the only things that are big. The garage, too, is as big as the city will allow.

In fact, Dr. Wolf says, he ended up haggling with his builder to get the garage to be as big as was legally possible.

Back inside, the bedrooms feature windows that extend nearly to the floor. Why? “We wanted the animals to be able to look out,” Lori says, smiling at one of two rescue dogs following along on a tour of the place.

Speaking of bedrooms, all the children’s bedrooms are the exact same square footage. Or … almost the same. The Wolf’s children were told their bedrooms were all the same so that there’d be no sibling bickering. But they are not. One is slightly bigger. (Wolf children: to find out which of you is most loved by your parents, visit True Realty online, look up your home and do the math. It’s time the truth comes out.)

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 17

“Yes!” I say. “Super nice.”

Hard rock

The game room with a ping pong and foosball table.

The place is heated by a geothermal unit that runs water deep underground to heat and cool it. Expensive on the front end, Dr. Wolf says, but super efficient and virtually maintenance free after it’s installed. Pays for itself.

And down the hall is a room that … well, it’s a room that’s the stuff of dreams, really.

A soda machine greets you as you enter. Framed movie posters line two of the walls. On a third wall hangs a giant movie screen.

A half dozen recliners — yes, the same kind you’ll find in the area’s finer movie houses — sit just waiting for movie watchers.

Of course, I plop down in one.

“I’m coming over for movie night,” I joke.

“Oh, you’re welcome anytime!”

Lori says.

“Be careful what you offer,” I say, “I have no problem taking you up on it and bringing a few dozen friends.”

(Which is a complete joke — I haven’t had a “few dozen friends” since junior high school, but I digress.)

At the back of the room is an office that boasts a pair of oversized computer monitors.

This is the doctor’s office, and the monitors allow him to, well, be a radiologist, right from home. When snow days come and the roads are undriveable, Dr. Wolf can still read those X-rays.

On the way out, we walk passed the home’s lone blemish. A few scuff marks on the wall, scars 18 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

from robust table tennis matches over the years. They’ve kept the blemishes around, though, because of what they mean. They are symbols of the fun had here, proof of lives well lived. In the hustle and hurry of the rat race, the moments we remember are the ones where an errant Ping Pong paddle smacked into a wall in a desperate attempt to save the game, and the laughs that occurred in the aftermath over Cokes and sandwiches. Those blemishes will get taken care of eventually, but somehow they make the home feel even … homier.

Homes in this price range don’t sell often. The original list price was $1.3 million.

“Maybe one house per year will sell in this price range,” says True as we head back to her car.

Obviously, there are fewer buyers in that price range, and fewer homes. It’s not uncommon for these homes — which can come with property taxes approaching or even exceeding five figures — to be on the market for far longer than regular homes. Often, they have been custom-made to the desires of their owners, and those custom flourishes may not suit another buyer’s tastes. Being in a position to buy that much house usually comes along with being in a position to be picky.

Prices adjustments often happen. But eventually, most will sell.

“Weren’t they just the nicest people?”

Our next stop takes us to Lake Crystal, home of the Brielmaiers.

Stepping off the county road, a gravel road — the kind with a strip of grass running under your car — brimming with hummingbirds and rabbits, takes you there. Like many rural homes, a big dog greets your car as it slows to a stop. And soon, so does Michele Brielmaier.

“Hello!” she says. “Let me take care of this guy.”

She beckons the dog to the garage, returns, and the tour begins.

You notice two things when you enter the Brielmaier home: wood and rock. Beautiful and shiny woodwork is under your feet, all over the walls and on the ceiling. And rock.

“Mark likes rock,” she says of her husband, who did well for himself with Southern Minnesota Construction.

On trips back and forth between New Ulm and Mankato, he’d spotted this piece of land.

He asked the landowner if he’d be willing to sell any of it. As luck would have it, the landowner was willing to sell.

The Brielmaiers bought 49 acres and planned to sell off some of it to pay for their home.

But then they just … didn’t. They grew to love having the extra room, and turned their dream plot into a destination, complete with pool, groomed trails between the house and the Minnesota River, separate shop building for Mark to hone his woodworking skills, and a bunch of farm land they rent out to growers.

Mark’s love for rock, actually, is sort of the focal point when you enter the home. The fireplace is a work of art, a curiously massive structure that brings both a sense of awe and a sense of tranquility to the main room. Flanked by a nearly floor-to-ceiling windows that let natural light gush in, it’s easy to imagine quiet nights by the fire, glass of red wine in one hand and Ernest Hemingway in the other. Or Danielle Steele. Or Nicholas Sparks. Whatever you like. The point is that it’s darn cozy, and incredibly easy to envision tranquility here.

Bev Palmquist, right, in her loft with friend Laura Turk.

The kitchen’s Cambria countertops are gorgeous … and oddly tall.

Why? “We’re a tall family,” she says.

Mark isn’t here, so we’ll have to take her word for it about that.

But one of the kids, Bret Brielmaier, a former Loyola basketball standout who later became a walk-on whiz kid at the University of Arizona (and now coaches in the NBA as an assistant for the Brooklyn Nets), stands 6-6. When he comes home to visit, he won’t have to worry about dealing with countertops designed for, you know, regular-height people.

Outside, the lawn is impeccable. Fun fact: On a riding lawn mower, it takes about 8-10 hours to mow their lawn. And who do you think mows it? The Brielmeiers. True story.

Why are they selling? It’s a lot of house for two people. And they’d like to relocate to northern Minnesota. They’re currently building a home with many of the same features as this one only … smaller.

M2

“I haven’t even been to this place,” says True. Which is weird.

Seems like, as a Realtor, you’d have been around just about

every block in town several times.

But alas, True is as new to M2 as I am.

This place is full of a variety of folks. Retirees. Young professionals. Doctors and nurses who work across the street. One of them is Bev Palmquist.

She has lived in this community for more than 40 years. When her husband died a few years ago, she knew she’d need to relocate to a smaller place. She looked at several places before discovering Mankato’s hottest upscale rental complex.

“It’s beautiful,” she said of the M2 Lofts, located near the Mankato hospital. “It has all the amenities that really appeal to me.”

Palmquist says she was looking for a “place to land” while she figured out what her next move would be. When she moved in, she says, she figured she’d be there for a year.”

“But now I just think this is where I’ll stay,” she said.

M2 Loft units are roomy. The rent is about the most you’ll pay in Mankato, but with that rent comes TONS of amenities. Such as a workout room you’d actually be able to see yourself using (and staff say it’s nearly always in use), a community room where staff

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hold monthly potlucks and which is available to any tenant, underground parking, fully furnished guest apartment for out-of-town guests, a Keurig coffeemaker in the lobby. And, of course, many more.

“People seem surprised when they come,” Palmquist said.

“They come in and see the size and what I’ve been able to do with the space and they’re surprised.”

Palmquist says she’s lived in two residences in Mankato, and understands the importance of turning a residence into a “home.”

“When my husband died very suddenly two years ago, I had a lot of decisions to make,” she said. “When I downsized I was really intentional. Bring what you need, bring what has meaning, bring what you love. By following that criteria, I was able to figure out what to keep and what not to keep.

“We grew up in a generation where it’s import to own your own home, so many people I know have bought condos or townhomes,” she said. “So building a home in an apartment might seem different.”

Meanwhile, there’s Peter ...

I make my last stop without True. This last stop isn’t on the market. Nor could it ever be, really.

He doesn’t want us to use his last name. And we can’t really tell you where he lives. The legality of it is, well … in question.

Peter is an interesting dude.

Which is, like, a fact. When the winter blows in he heads west to Colorado where he skis for his food.

“I eat Gummi Bears on a ski lift and teach people my favorite winter sport,” he says.

Then, when the northern hemisphere warms up, he returns to his beloved Mankato, the town that raised him, the place he calls home.

His actual residence, for the record, is an apartment he rents in town. But most of his free time, while not painting houses, is spent on this piece of property that is owned by his mother. This is where he keeps the storage container he used to live in. Yes,

20 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

Peter (last name withheld) in a shipping container with some of his possessions.

Peter works at ski resorts in the winter and hikes and bikes in the summer. Despite all the places he has been, Peter said he will always consider Mankato home.

LIVE in.

Inside, it looks like a college dorm room without windows. It is a feast for the eyes, with ball caps, road signs, license plates, bicycles, storage bins, trinkets, odds, ends … and a few beginnings.

At the back of the trailer is a sort of cove. (You could imagine a college student sitting there toiling away at homework or midterms, but you’ll never find Peter doing midterms.) Inside the cove, on the wall to the right, there is a U.S. map with odd markings. Look closer. Those aren’t markings. They’re pins.

Hundreds of them. Each one representing a place he’s visited.

Peter loves to hike. He’s hiked the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Coast Trail and the Continental Divide, each of which is visible on the map. He’s met thousands of people during his vagabond-

ish life, slept in countless towns, gazed up at more night skies in his 20-something years than most people do in a lifetime.

On his property, which he calls his little slice of paradise, the setup resembles his life. With strung Christmas lights, a seemingly abandoned pay phone, a homemade arbor, an herb garden, music from a boombox, several sets of skis propped up against a fence, random garden gnomes, it appears like a disorganized jumble. But look closer. Everything seems to make sense and have its place. It just might not be the place most people would put it.

But that’s Peter. He doesn’t care what society thinks he should do.

Doesn’t care how society thinks he should live. He likes it here.

Likes sipping a Grain Belt Premium beer and offering one to a visitor. He likes to imagine

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Besides, if he wants to live large, all he needs to do is climb the bluff. On a pathway he’s fortified with wooden steps, Peter happily shows off the latest feature of his hideaway. High on top of the bluff he’s installed a bench swing, one that allows him to look over the only city he says he’ll ever call home.

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MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 21

The Schwertfegers, clockwise from upper left: Jennifer, Autumn, Michael, Grace and Faith. The Schwertfegers were chosen to be this year’s ambassadors at the March of Dimes.

Signature Grace

Despite the challenges of raising a preemie, the Schwertfeger family has endured, thrived together.

And this year, they’re the ambassador family for the March of Dimes’ annual Signature Chef’s Auction Story by Robb Murray | Photos by Jackson Forderer 22 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

Grace Schwertfeger (right), 12, reads to her sister Autumn, 14, at their house in Mankato. Grace was born 16 weeks prematurely and has trouble reading because of problems with her eyesight.

T

hirteen years ago, before Grace Schwertfeger was even born — before she’d beat the odds, prove the experts wrong, spend way too much time in hospitals —she was the subject of a brutal conversation between her parents and their doctors.

Her mother, Jennifer Schwertfeger, was told she had a torn placenta very early in the pregnancy, a condition called placental abruption.

“Doctors told us they didn’t feel I should be put on bed rest because our baby had a minimal chance of survival,” she wrote in her book, “Life With Grace,” which chronicles the challenges of raising a preemie. “In fact, they said that if I made it to 14 weeks it would be a miracle. They told my husband Mike and me to prepare for a miscarriage.”

It stunned them.

“That was really hard for us,” she said from her home recently.

“We walked out to our car and held hands and prayed for a miracle. We knew what we were praying for was impossible. We prayed God would spare her life.”

This was Grace’s beginning: A

“That was really hard for us,” she said from her home recently.

“We walked out to our car and held hands and prayed for a miracle. We knew what we were praying for was impossible.

We prayed God would spare her life.”

grim outlook and little hope from medical professionals. But somehow this little kid who knew nothing yet of difficult conversations and emotional prayers fought her way to 14 weeks. And then then she fought her way to 15. And then 18. And 20. Finally, at 24 weeks, Grace was born. One pound, 6.2 ounces — “She was so small,” Schwertfeger wrote in her book, “ that her whole body measured up to the size of a dollar bill.” And in defense of those doctors, her prospects weren’t good. Roughly half of babies born at Grace’s birth age survive beyond the NICU. But this was Grace. She’d already proven herself a warrior.

She’d defied the odds and made it past 14 weeks, and kept defying them with every day, every hour, every minute she stayed alive in the womb.

It wasn’t easy. For nine months she lived in a hospital with a battalion of doctors, nurses and machines working together to make sure nothing was left to chance.

Eventually, though, she made it MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 23

Grace Schwertfeger (right), 12, and her sister Faith, 8, play with their dolls at their house in Mankato. Grace was born 16 weeks prematurely and still has problems with her eyesight. home to her family.

You might hear a little bit about the Schwertfegers this month.

When the March of Dimes Signature Chef’s Auction takes place, it will be their faces you’ll see on posters around town and on social media. They’re this year’s ambassador family, the family chosen to demonstrate why donating to the March of Dimes is important.

The March of Dimes was instrumental in the development of surfactant therapy in premature births. Surfactant helps underdeveloped lungs function properly, and can save lives. Surfactant therapy was used in Grace’s case, and is probably one of the reasons she’s alive today.

What surfactant cannot help, though, is the challenges a family face after a preemie comes into the world, including both the medical kind that doctors deal with, and others that doctors can’t.

Grace’s medical issues were numerous. After those difficult first nine months, she finally was allowed to go home. But even 24 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

then she required constant care.

Jennifer remembers one harrowing day from that time at home when they nearly lost Grace.

She heard a nurse yell from her daughter’s room. She ran to her Grace immediately.

“I looked at Grace,” Schwertfeger said. “I could tell something was terribly wrong.

She was clamping down on her lips, breathing very rapidly, she looked blue.”

Without thinking, she acted quickly.

She suctioned her, clipped her trachea tube, grabbed a manual resuscitator bag and began squeezing and administering CPR. For 15 minutes she worked to save her daughter’s life until, in the distance, she could hear the siren sounds of help arriving.

Finally, a firefighter came through the door and Schwertfeger handed the bag off to him.

She saved her daughter’s life that day. And in the process, she learned something. In addition to learning the dangers of a tipped humidifier — water from the

humidifier’s tank tipped through the tube and into Grace’s trachea tube — she learned that it’s good to have a plan in place so that, when catastrophe strikes, she won’t be scrambling to figure out what to do.

Episodes such as this drove Schwertfeger to write that book.

Unless you’ve raised a premature child, she said, it’s difficult to understand the parenting challenges it presents.

The attention the book has brought Jennifer, as well as the numerous speaking engagements and book signings she does each month, are what prompted the March of Dimes Mankato to enlist the Schwertfegers as the ambassador family.

The Schwertfegers by now are very good at handling Grace’s medical needs. Jennifer’s book is a testament to the family’s knowledge in that area.

They’re also probably qualified to write another book, this time on the toll things like this can take on a family.

Nine months in the hospital, nine months of in-home nursing care, several years of nubulizers

and other special medical protocols, 12 years of doing everything in their power to give Grace every chance at recovering normalcy — on top of raising two other girls, one older and one younger than Grace, both of whom have their own lives. Then throw in jobs and paying the bills and trying to stay in touch with family.

It’s been challenging for the entire family. Especially for Jennifer.

Coping with the stress of everything has caused her to have health problems of her own.

And the trials of going through life-endangering situations have created something akin to posttraumatic stress disorder for her.

“I tell people I’m afraid to say we’re completely out of the woods,” she says.

And the fears extend to their other kids. She recalls a day when their youngest daughter, Faith, had a seizure while playing on their backyard swingset.

“I was hysterical,” she said. “We called an ambulance.”

Her reaction that day, she says, was directly related to the fears that have grown and the experience gained from having to spring into action with Grace.

As a couple, they’ve tended to balance each other out.

“I feel like sometimes she overreacts to things,” Mike Schwertfeger says. “I’m more of a calm type person. … I think her nerves are a little frazzled.”

The couple’s oldest daughter, Autumn, says her parents work well together. Her mom, she says, is used to taking charge to make sure Grace — or anyone else — is OK. “They’re kind of like a team,” Autumn says. “And dad will be trying to calm people down.”

“I feel as I’m getting older, I’m getting calmer,” says Jennifer.

“We go in cycles … I definitely think we have good days and bad days.”

Some days, she says, she wonders about the toll Grace’s condition has taken on the family. How many things have their other children not gotten to do, or how many sacrifices they’ve had to make. Does she ever feel regret?

“Yes … and you feel guilty saying that. You won’t want to

The Schwertfeger girls on their swing set. From left, Grace, 12, Autumn, 14, and Fatih, 8. Grace was born 16 weeks prematurely. The Schwertfeger family was chosen to be this year’s March of Dimes ambassadors. feel like it’s a burden,” she said.

“Autumn always says, ‘Mom, I’ll help you take care of Grace.’ Faith does too.”

Mike Schwertfeger says it helps them to put things into perspective.

“We’ve seen parents have it worse,” he said. “When we were in the hospital, we saw Anthony Ford. And they lost Anthony. So you have to think of what other parents have gone through.”

In another grim hospital instance, they witnessed hospital workers collect the child in the bed next to Grace who’d lost his

battle. They carted in a stretcher, and began unfolding a body bag.

“We had to shut the curtain,” Jennifer said.

Today, though, the Schwertfegers seem worlds away from all that chaos. When you visit their home, you’ll find Autumn practicing guitar or reading books to Grace, Faith running a comb through the blond hair of one of her dolls, and Mike and Jennifer smiling at them, eager to keep things normal, eager to watch all of their kids grow up. MM MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 25

Reflections

By Pat Christman

26 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

T

rucks full of sweet corn have started popping up across the area, full of freshly picked corn just waiting to be cooked and eaten. Few things say “summer” like fresh sweet corn.

Whether it is steamed or grilled, covered in butter, salt and pepper or just plain, fresh sweet corn on the cob is a unique treat and a welcome addition to a late summer meal on the patio. MM

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 27

E

AY S S

Life in the SMACKING ZONE “For Mitch”

By Becky Fjelland-Brooks | Photos by Julie Gronewold 28 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

T

he Judson Bottom Road falls open before me, a canopy of leaves. I spin forward on my bike, surrounded by green with an early touch of gold, and leave work and worries behind. Life doesn’t get much better than this moment.

In spite of the controversy that clouded and eclipsed Lance Armstrong’s cycling career, no one can argue that even without performance-enhancing drugs, he was still an amazing athlete.

I’ll always remember this from the opening page of his biography, It’s Not About the Bike: “I want to die going seventy mph down the Tourmalet with my jock wife and son at the bottom.”

I’m no Lance Armstrong; Lance has been stripped of all is titles and is no longer married to the “jock wife” woman he was with when he wrote that, and life can’t be reduced to such a simple formula for happiness. However, the sentiment Lance expressed is absolutely true. The freedom of whizzing through the air on your own volition. The wind from speed in your face. The sensation of propelling yourself through space and time. The fierce joy of satisfying physical exertion. The happy exhaustion of knowing you pushed yourself to accomplish something. Life doesn’t get much better than this, and this wouldn’t be a bad thing to be doing when the lights go out.

Most people think of biking as a summer sport. Minnesota reaches further north than the rest of the contiguous 48 states, and boasts the coldest temperatures, so come September, too many people hang up their bikes. Except for icy surfaces because I’ve had a few bad falls on ice, I try to ride all year. I have a bunch of friends who ride their bikes 12 months a year here in Minnesota.

Technology makes windproof tights, jackets, bootie-shoe covers, mittens, and balaclavas. We put them all on, hope our water bottles don’t freeze solid, and go.

Riding through the seasons is its own reward. We watch the snow fall, the fields blanketed, riding on cold evenings with headlights, we see the “moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow.” We watch hoarfrost cloak

the trees against crystal blue skies and glorious sunshine. We watch cattle with their backsides to winter winds as we bend over our handlebars into it — and feel like real jocks.

In spring, we watch the ice melt, the fields thaw, the trees bud, the farmers disk then plant, and then we watch tiny corn shoots rise day by day until they grow taller than us, tassle, turn golden, and combines gather them back in. We watch newborn calves and foals wobble on legs that carry them running by midsummer. We watch brown ditches turn green and bloom with wild roses. We watch robins arrive in spring and one day in late fall, we realize they’re gone. We watch creeks break free of winter ice and rush with snow melt, gurgle almost to a stop in August. We watch the trees break into bud, bloom, and almost over night, burst full-blown green, then four months later, the leaves turn dayby-day golden, yellow, red, and finally float back to the ground.

We ride through heaps of leaves across the trails and gravel roads.

We watch geese migrate south in October, and rejoice when we hear them honking back north in the spring.

I think — at least I hope — that all Minnesotans notice all this beauty. But on my bike, I notice far more than I do from a car window. I’m outside, riding within the season. Smelling it.

Feeling it in my face. I’m talking about biking here, because it’s part of my own soul, but this also applies to running, walking, skate-skiing, roller-blading, crosscountry skiing, and more.

Anything we do outside without a motor.

There’s fierce joy in physical exertion, and in creating the wind that’s in your face.

I’ve gone flying down river valley hills, maxing out my own fortitude at 48 mph. I’ve crawled my bike up those same hills, reduced to six mph. Sure, these hills are nothing compared to the Alps and Pyrenees, and Tour-deFrance dudes would be shooting up at 18 mph and down at 68, but I know I’m just as happy on my bike as any one of them. And anyone riding 8 mph on the flats is certainly going to be enjoying the scenery more than somebody

who is zooming through the Tour de France. Everything’s relative, and biking’s a sport where all abilities are welcome. Anyone who can balance on two wheels (or maybe even three) can fall in love with it, at any speed.

Some of us more obsessive personalities who love riding— I unabashedly must put myself in that obsessive category — discover a new joy of riding in packs, and we push our passion for biking into the smacking zone. We push each other to go as fast as we can together, and that love fuels some of us to race.

We learn to ride in close proximity with each other, draft in a paceline, sprint, and we feed off each other’s competitive nature. The most gifted of this group go on to race at higher amateur or even professional levels.

The friendships we forge, riding together only once or twice a week, transcend the rest of our lives. We’re as different as we can be: teachers, factory workers, doctors, farmers, business owners, mechanics, IT professionals, professors, engineers, delivery people. It doesn’t matter. We leave that behind when we get together and get on our bikes. We have a mutual passion that binds us together, and we are on the same playing field when we’re on two wheels. We have the bikes we cherish and the bodies we’re given, and we love to see how hard we can push them. We laugh and sweat and strain and nearly cry. Together. And we’d go to the wall for each other.

Every time I get on my bicycle, my husband says “Have fun. Be careful.” With good reason. I’ve had my share of crashes and broken bones, and he knows the sport is inherently full of risks.

But he loves who I am, so he doesn’t ask me to switch hobbies, even though I think he secretly wishes I might consider that.

All of us who ride bikes a few thousand miles or more a year try to be careful. But we also take a few risks. Every time we ride a bike on the road, or even the trail, risk is part of the deal.

This past year, especially this past summer, brought its share of bike crashes and injuries in the Mankato cycling community.

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 29

In July, a friend crashed badly on his bicycle during a group ride. Horrifically. It wasn’t just a crash. He swerved to avoid some debris, his front wheel touched another bike, and he overcorrected across the centerline of the road. A car was coming, and he not only got hit head-on but he was run over. All this happened in a split second. He survived, and he’s in Rochester on a long road to recovery. In the three weeks before the accident, he had won a couple major regional races. His life changed in the blink of an eye.

This was traumatizing — not only for all the guys on the ride, for the driver of the car, and of course for his family, but for the whole cycling community. Most of the guys who watched this happen still see it whenever they close their eyes. Or when they head out on their bikes.

The next week, another crash happened during a sprint at 30 mph on a group ride. Nobody broke any bones or got airlifted out, but one bike was totaled and several people left some skin on the pavement. If a car had been coming this time, it could have been just as bad. Even so, such a crash can affect a rider’s life.

One good thing is that helmets made a big difference in the outcome of both of these crashes.

Sometimes, though, that’s not enough. In northern Iowa, a friend’s brother-in-law crashed in a freak accident this summer, wearing his helmet, being careful.

A small animal darted out right in front of him on a hill, and he died as a result of the head injury in spite of a helmet. Being careful isn’t always enough.

All of this makes us stop. And think. And sometimes it makes us scared.

“You’re going to find a new hobby, right?” “You aren’t going to bike anymore, are you?” I got these questions after I broke five bones in a bike crash just before I turned 60. Then three months later, my head exploded — actually, a brain aneurysm ruptured just before I headed out for a ride. The aneurysm was utterly unrelated: you can’t get a brain aneurysm from a blow to the head. HOWEVER, everybody who knows me associated the two. And the truth is, if the 30 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

aneurysm had ruptured 10 minutes later, if I had been on my bike, exerting energy, I would have died from the brain bleed. I was lucky that I was running late for the ride. (And that supports my propensity to be late for everything, right?). But I was very, very lucky, and it had nothing to do with being careful or not.

But thinking about all this brings up memories for any of us who have crashed and broken bones or bikes, lost skin on the road or trail, or watched a friend go down.

How do we react? And why keep doing it? If it’s that dangerous, that risky, why do it?

Why? Why do we put ourselves out there in the smacking zone?

I’m talking about cycling here, but it applies to anything where risks are inherent: football, basketball, hockey, skiing, baseball. Four-wheeling.

Snowmobiling. Running.

But if we don’t risk injury by avoiding any dangerous activity, does that make us safe? No. Absolutely not. Wait. That list of dangerous activities should include riding an airplane.

Driving a car. Any farm work.

Even walking. Crossing a city street.

And being very careful isn’t even enough. Almost two years ago, another of my friends stepped off the curb into the street in a crosswalk in Massachusetts, and an SUV launched into reverse and killed him. He was a careful man. But being careful wasn’t enough. Life happens. And there aren’t always reasons.

Life isn’t safe. Every single Minnesotan over a certain age knows someone who has died in a car crash. We as humans are indeed fragile in this world.

When the human body hits pavement or a vehicle, the body loses every time.

What if we luck out and don’t have any life-threatening or lifechanging accidents? There’s still cancer. Heart disease, ALS, Parkinson’s, MS, bloodborne pathogens. Lyme disease. There’s an outbreak of plague among prairie dogs in Arizona, for crying outloud, that has killed humans, too. So not engaging in dangerous activities doesn’t guarantee a long and healthy life.

All of this rumination may seem dark, but it’s about the realities of being dead or being alive, of sucking the marrow out of the bones of the life that we’re given.

And the kicker is this: if nothing tragic happens to us, we’ll live to a ripe old age. An old, old age because nothing has killed us. And that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, either. My aunt who lived well into her 90s told me, “Becky, never live to be 92. It just isn’t any fun.” At the time, I thought, Well, it’s better than the alternative, isn’t it?

Is it?

So what’s the answer? Living carefully inside the four walls of our houses, venturing out only when all coasts seem clearest, and safety seems most assured? Does anyone really want to live that way? Personally, I’d rather live in the smacking zone than rust out that way. As Ygritte the Wildling says in the popular Game of Thrones epic A Storm of Swords, “…

If we die, we die. All men must die, Jon Snow. But first, we’ll live.”

We don’t get to choose how we die. But we get to—and must— choose how we live.

I face the fact that if I keep riding hard and on the roads, I could die. I could get paralyzed. I could crash, but I’ll crash fulfilling my passion, living life the way I want to live, flying through the seasons in the countryside on two wheels. It’s part of who I am. It’s “drinking life to the lees.”

I’m not alone in this passion as I age. My friend Robert Wagner is 92, and he was still riding his birthday miles a few years ago (87 on his 87th birthday, etc.). He did two days of RAGBRAI last year at age 91. His son-in-law, though, is the guy I mentioned earlier who died of a head injury. It’s hard not to be affected by such a loss.

All of this, such accidents, our own, or life close to us wiped out or changed, months of recovery from an accident, gives us pause.

Why do it?

If we extend the bicycling metaphor, anything we risk means living in the smacking zone. Trying to get a book published. Singing in public.

Opening a business. Buying a house. Quitting a safe job to start one you’ve always wanted to try.

Traveling to a place like Antarctica, or even to Italy or Mexico. Traveling alone. Falling in love. Planting a garden.

Like cycling, any of the above actions can be ultimately gratifying, satisfying, and thrilling. That’s why biking is such an effective metaphor. The flip side is that all of these actions have the potential to be devastating, too.

Why risk entering the smacking zone — any situation where we risk getting clobbered with failure? If we live with passion, life is full of risks that open us up to absolute joy or to getting smacked down.

Sometimes both in the same day.

But that means we’re fully alive.

I can’t say it better than Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “Ulysses,” a poem celebrating epic hero of the Greek Odyssey, using the Roman name for him. And after all, nobody lived more fully in the “smacking zone” than Odysseus/Ulysses. Poseidon smacked him with the sea, killed his entire crew, saw him seduced

by Circe and Calypso, sent him to the Underworld of Hades, making what should have been a short trip home after the Trojan War into a 10-year ordeal.

Tennyson puts these words in his mouth long after all these lifethreatening adventures: “How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!

As though to breathe were life!

Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains; but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; …

And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.”

Ulysses says, “As though to breathe were life.” No, breathing is not enough. Breathing isn’t living. Ulysses also says: “I will drink life to the lees.” Ulysses wants to see how far he can push himself, even as he ages, as every hour he’s alive means he’s not

dead yet. Yes! That’s it. That’s why we venture into the smacking zone, to see how far we can push ourselves, to see what we can accomplish or learn or experience, even as we age. We’re not dead, so let’s be as fully alive as is possible!

The poem’s voice is as if Ulysses/Odysseus is calling to his old comrades to join him on yet another adventure. Not unlike a pack of cyclists. “Come on. Who wants to go 100 miles today?”

I tell my composition students that nobody hands them the life they want on a silver platter. Even if they win the lottery, they’re still living their current life, just with more money. Nobody gives us the life we want — not Prince Charming, not the perfect boss — nobody.

We are the ones who can decide what steps we need to take to like the life we build — and continue to build, even as we age.

So how do we do that? We push ourselves. Beyond what’s ordinary, beyond sitting on the couch, to the “utmost bounds” of human achievement or striving or thought. By being careful? Yes. But that means living with care. It means paying attention. It does NOT mean staying out of the smacking zone.

My daughter gave me a t-shirt last year that proclaims, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”

And maybe that’s the key. We can be moving, moving toward a goal, moving toward what it is we want to do, moving in the middle of what fuels our own passions, and keep doing that until our last breath.

We are the ones who can decide what steps we need to take to like the life we build — and continue to build, even as we age.

If we can run, we run. If we can’t run, we can still bike. If we can’t bike, we can walk. If we can’t walk, we can go out on the trail in a wheelchair. But we can move if we have passion for life.

So, after all this thinking about crashing, I will unquestionably continue to ride my bike. Yes, I could get hit by a gravel truck any time I ride my bike on 3rd Avenue. I weigh the odds for my own life, and I know I’d rather die happy in a bike accident, following my passion and “living

life to the lees” than sit at home, exponentially safer, and rust out.

I will be careful. I’ll ride in groups where I know and trust the other riders. At age 61, I’m not racing anymore because of the risks of riding in a fast tight pack. But I will still race time trials, where it’s just me against the clock, and I can see how far and how fast I can still push myself. (And I have the advantage of being the only woman in the senior category at the local TT, so I can even set a record!) It’s utterly satisfying to feel exhaustion after going all out, as hard as I can possibly ride.

Hunter S. Thompson’s famous quote seems to fit here. “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

I guess that’s what the smacking zone is all about.

It’s September, certainly one of the most beautiful months to go for any kind of bike ride. Or go for a walk. I’m going to saddle up now and go ride in the smacking zone. Or maybe I’ll just cruise along and drink in every bit of MM the beauty around me.

Becky Fjelland Davis (Brooks) wrote a novel about cycling set in Mankato: Chasing AllieCat. Watch for Slider’s Son, her newest book coming out this month.

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 31

Then & Now: “The Great War” By: BRYCE O. STENZEL

Leaving Mankato Train Depot for WWI 001

Mankato’s Entry into “The Great War” E

ven before war was officially declared by the U.S. Congress against Germany and its allies on April 6, 1917, the citizens of Mankato and Blue Earth County were preparing for war.

It began with the return home of Company H, a state militia organization, composed of mostly local men, which had been doing guard duty along the Mexican border. Company H arrived back in Mankato on Jan. 24, 1917. It was welcomed back with a banquet given in its honor at the Hotel Heinrich, followed by a reception at the Armory.

On Feb. 12, 1917, another banquet, hosted by the Mankato Commercial Club, was held in the same hotel to recognize the fact that official diplomatic relations between Germany and the United States had been severed a week earlier. At this gathering, a resolution offered by Hubbard Milling President George Palmer was adopted, which endorsed President Woodrow Wilson’s actions against Germany.

32 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

On Feb. 27, a mass meeting was held at the Mankato Armory to arouse the loyalty of local citizens, as well as to encourage members of Company H to re-enlist.

On March 27, 1917, a United States Army recruiting station was opened in Mankato. Within 30 days, 92 enlistments were made — 47 of these were men from Blue Earth County.

Not everyone was elated by the prospect of going to war with Germany. While not as heavily populated with citizens of German descent as New Ulm, Mankato did have a sizeable number of ethnic Germans living in the community, heavily concentrated on the city’s north end.

As late as March 27, many of these local citizens had difficulty believing that their “Fatherland” was the instigator and promoter of autocracy over democracy.

They were not quick to buy into President Wilson’s justification for the U.S. going to war as one, “to make the world safe for democracy.” These people saw only the fact that they still had relatives in the “Old

Country,” along with sharing a common language, religious beliefs and other sentimental attachments.

The same day as the Army’s recruiting station was opened, the German Lutheran synod of both Blue Earth and Nicollet counties passed their own resolutions vigorously protesting U.S. involvement in the “Great War. Blame for starting the war was placed on England, rather than on Germany.

However; for most German-Americans living in the Mankato area, loyalty to their adopted homeland triumphed over initial skepticism. More than half of the soldiers who enlisted in the war effort from Blue Earth County were of German origin; they distinguished themselves at the front for bravery and loyalty.

On March 31, the Schiller Lodge of the Odd Fellows at Mankato (composed entirely of persons of German birth or descent) unanimously discarded their mother tongue (in use since the lodge was organized 47 years before) in favor of using English as the language in which to conduct their official business. They never returned to using German.

On April 23, 1917, a great patriotic demonstration took place in Mankato with the launching of two enormous parades; one in the afternoon and one in the evening. The afternoon parade had all of the faculty and students of the public, parochial and private schools in Mankato, as well as those from North Mankato and surrounding communities march together with various clubs and military units.

The evening parade was over a mile long; it featured the newly enlisted men of the military and naval

forces, the militia organizations, the fire department, Odd Fellows, Shriners, Orpheus Club, employees of Northern States Power Company, Brett’s employees, First National Bank employees, Knights of Columbus, Catholic Order of Foresters, Lodge of Modern Woodmen, Mankato Aerie of Eagles and more. On April 28, a patriotic rally was held in Lake Crystal.

During the months of May and June, the recruiting office at Mankato continued its activities. By July 1, there were 301 men mustered into military service from this location. In most of the surrounding towns, men were given a farewell banquet on the night before they left; they were then escorted to Mankato by delegations of relatives and friends.

The Courthouse square became the scene of many emotional farewells. It was expected that both Company H and the Second Regiment Band would be ordered to move out at once, but no such orders were received until Sept. 28, when both units entrained for Camp Deming. It was on the morning of the 28th that Company H held its last drill in Mankato.

A big crowd of people from all parts of the county gathered to wish them farewell. Another parade was held through the principal streets of the county seat, as these men marched to the Union Depot, and then off to war. Many never returned.

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get together!

E

Enjoy!

— Robb Murray, Associate Editor, Mankato Magazine

southern mn style

veryone’s got their favorite summertime foods.

Watermelon, hot dogs on the grill, BBQ’d babybacks at RibFest. Whatever you like, there’s just something extra special about stuffing your face with it during summer.

In Minnesota, we like to kick it up a notch when it comes to summer food. And stuffing faces.

At the Minnesota State Fair, you can try every kind of food imaginable (most of it on a stick) and just about all of it is worth writing home about. Footlong hot dogs, deep fried cheese curds, cookies you can order by the bucket, roasted corn on the cob to die for, deep fried cheese curds, pork chops on a stick, craft beer, meat loaf, vanilla shakes, french fries. Did we mention the deep fried cheese curds? Jeepers, they’re tasty.

And, of course, there are always new gems to enjoy.

This month in Food, Drink & Dine, we introduce you to a few of the new “dining” options available to you when you make your way to the great Minnesota Get Together.

Just make sure you save some room for cheese curds!

food, drink & dine

Come on Minnesota,

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 35

Food SOUTHERN MN STYLE

Avoid meat that’s blackened outside, raw inside and other grilling tips

By James P. Dewan | Chicago Tribune

B

ecause both of my parents have now gone on to their reward, I can let you in on some family barbecue history without fear of a Christmas

Ǖ ű Ǖ

pudding.

The truth is, our barbecued chicken was like a character from a Tim Burton movie. Blacker than Satan’s soul on the outside, with insides as pink and bloody as a war wound.

36 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

Ewww, right?

Incidentally, and apropos of nothing, I had cousins who used to keep firecrackers in their

ű that were too small to keep into piscatorial grenades.

It’s a wonder I eat meat at all.

Today, let’s have you not make the same mistakes, either in grilling or in choosing your cousins.

WHY YOU NEED TO LEARN

THIS Satan. War wounds. I think we pretty much covered this in the opening.

THE STEPS YOU TAKE Our tragic back story begins Ǖ 3 ű Ĩ -\"\Ĩ Ǖ ŗ Ĩ never you mind about the decade, Missy. Let’s just say that it was before the ubiquity of the Weber Grill. It was a simpler time: Men were chimps, and grills were coverless and only a few inches

deep.

Charcoal was piled in the center, doused with “magic water” and set ablaze with a match torn from a cardboard matchbook.

Remember those? Once glowing, the briquettes were distributed evenly across the entire surface of the bottom of the grill and all food was cooked directly over them.

With the emergence of the Weber (and no, I don’t get any money from them, so kindly disensnark your questions about my journalistic integrity), we’ve

ǕŰ between direct and indirect heat.

Direct heat is great for small or thin items that cook quickly.

Indirect heat works best for larger items, things that take longer to cook.

Back in the day, though, who knew from indirect heat?

Everything went directly over the coals. Hence, our nightmare on BBQ Street.

Fortunately, in today’s modern world of Webers and iPhones and double-breasted suits, we don’t have to cook over direct heat unless we want to.

Thus, anything that’s small

Ǖ ŗ ^

Ĩ Ǖ Ǖ ^ ǔ ű ^

ŗ be cooked directly over the heat source, whether it’s charcoal or gas. We’re talking less than five minutes per side. More than that and it’s like a beach filled with vampires.

Or my Irish ancestors.

3Ǖ ŕ

Ǖ Ǖ ǔ ŗ whole chicken, thick steaks or double chops -- you have some options. One is indirect heat. This means the charcoal’s on one side of the grill, and your food’s on the other. Cover the grill, and it’s like an oven with the food roasting in the enclosed heat.

Another option is to precook your items until almost done, then simply mark them on the grill. This is great if you’re feeding a bunch of people: Roast your chops, steaks or seafood on a sheet pan to the desired doneness. (Use a meat thermometer.) At serving time, throw them over direct heat for a minute or so a side and, blammo, dinner. ! Ĩ ǔ ű in broth or beer before marking

Katie & Kevin Regan Real Estate Team

on the grill. Then I reduce the poaching liquid, whisk in a little butter, and, another blammo, a yummy sauce. (You reduce marinades like that, too.)

Oh, and while we’re on the subject, here’s some more good

Ǖ ] %ǎ Ǖ Ǖ Ǖ

hot, clean it with a grill brush, then oil it to help keep the food from sticking: Fold a clean but unwanted dish towel in half or thirds, lengthwise, then roll it up and tie it with string. Dip it in vegetable oil and use a pair of tongs to wipe it on the grill grate and again with the blammo, no sticking food.

Now, here’s even more good advice, advice that will have your dinner guests proclaiming, “Madge, this is like something I

Ǖ ű in Paris.”

OK, that may not happen, even if your name does happen to be Madge, but here’s a little restaurant trick to make your food look as good as it tastes: grill marks.

For oblong or oddly shaped items (steaks and fillets rather than burgers or dogs), place them presentation-side down at a 45-degree angle to the grate. %ǎ ǔǕ

ř

Ǖ on the thickness), rotate it 90 degrees. In other words, start it at 10 o’clock, then rotate to 2 o’clock.

3 ŲǕ ř

ļ ŲǕ it once), you don’t need to rotate, because that’s the side that will be seen only by the plate, and most modern plates don’t have eyes.

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mankatodentist.com MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 37

Wine & Beer

wines

By Leigh Pomeroy

southern mn style

O

The wines of Chile and Argentina

ne of the great joys of wine is seeing the emergence of new wine areas or wine varietals in unexpected places.

Not that I don’t like the traditional offerings.

Indeed, my favorite current whites are the Chardonnay-based wines of the Macôn region of France and the brawny Brunellos di Montalcino from Tuscany. But they are both expensive (Brunello doubly so) and basically only for special occasions.

So, what to imbibe on a regular basis? Two countries that offer excellent everyday choices are Chile and Argentina.

It wasn’t so long ago when the stuff they called wine that came from these countries bordered on undrinkable. The whites were so bad they weren’t even imported to the North American market. And the reds were often oxidized, browning and high in volatile acidity (vinegar).

Then came the winemaking revolution driven by the University of California at Davis and universities in France, Germany and Italy. Beginning in the early 1960s, they championed a fresher winemaking style that emphasized cold fermentation, stainless steel or glass-lined tanks, minimum oxygen contact and a clean environment.

Naturally, the winemaking in these countries leapt forward, but other areas like Spain, the USSR, communist eastern Europe and South America were left behind.

But winemakers from the advanced winemaking countries, being experienced world travelers, knew of the vast vineyards in South America and of their great potential and favorable winegrowing climate.

And the grapes that they already knew — sauvignon blanc, chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon and malbec — were already there, having been brought over by earlier European transplants. These winemakers reasoned that it was only a matter of upgrading the winemaking facilities and practices to create worldclass wines.

Fast-forward to 50 years later and the result is impressive. Wine shop shelves are filled with high-quality wines that compete well with similar offerings from California, Washington, Australia, France and Italy, often at lower prices. Further, it seems that now every restaurant has at least one Argentine Malbec on the wine list.

Yet, stylistically, the wines of Chile and Argentina, even though they are often made from the same varietals used in other countries, are quite different.

You can take examples from Napa Valley and Edna Valley in California; from the Columbia Valley in Washington; from Bordeaux, the Loire Valley and

38 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

the Pays d’Oc in France; from Marlborough in New Zealand; and from the Casablanca Valley and the Maipo Valley in Chile — they’ll all be unique to their winegrowing regions. At this point, which one you prefer comes down to your own personal taste.

Sauvignon Blanc is Chile’s best-known white wine, but Chile is also known for Cabernet Sauvignon and Carménère, both traditional Bordeaux red varietals.

Interestingly, while Cabernet Sauvignon has become well-known and widely planted around the world, Carménère has gained a foothold only in Chile. The success of the carménère grape in Chile and why it is no longer found in Bordeaux is probably due to two reasons: It is susceptible to mildew — Chile’s climate is noticeably drier than Bordeaux’s — and it bears a strong resemblance to merlot, which is easy to grow, produces well and creates a wine that nearly everyone likes. In fact, many of Chile’s carménère vines were once thought to be merlot.

Chile also produces wines from other varietals that we recognize in the U.S. — Chardonnay, Viognier, Pinot Noir, Syrah, Merlot and Malbec.

While the Chilean wine industry offers this broad array, Argentina seems to be singularly focused on Malbec. Originally planted in France with the most success in the Cahors region, it arrived in Argentina and took hold.

Yet Cahors and Argentine Malbec create quite different wines, perhaps because of clonal variations, but most noticeably because most of Argentina’s malbec vineyards are located in the mile-highplus altitudes on the eastern slopes of the Andes mountains. Both are deeply colored, intense and often alcoholic. Yet Cahors tends to be more austere while Argentine Malbec is fruity and jammy.

Argentina’s best-known white is the Torrontés, a wine that shows the spicy characteristic of a dry Gewurztraminer or Muscat. While popular in Argentina, it hasn’t yet achieved much of a following in the U.S. Other varietals produced in Argentina include Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon and a more unique red varietal, Bonarda.

While some Chilean Cabernet Sauvignons and Argentine Malbecs can be quite pricy and arguably worth the cost, most are well within the bounds of everyday sampling. When you’re in a wine shop, seek out an employee who has knowledge of these wines and ask what they recommend. They will be happy to tell you the best values. Salud!

Leigh Pomeroy is a Mankato-based writer and wine lover.

Beer

By Bert Mattson

Tilting to September T

he Anglo-Saxons named September after barley. This is when they harvested it for brewing.

September usually also signals the tail end of the hop gathering season.

October tends to get all the glory of harvest. It’s all straw and earth tones, leaves and wood smoke. September tends to be remembered as airy and alive, the peak of patio weather.

Things aren’t as cut and dry as the calendar implies. In the northern hemisphere, at some point in September, when earth is tilted neither toward nor away from the sun, fall begins. Late September there is hope for both a balmy porch and a heartier autumn brew. Craft brewers help make that happen by being poised to quickly convert the season’s bounty into beer.

Fresh Hop or Wet Hop Ales arrive in various styles, but are typically comprised of some proportion of green (undried) hops. When the hops are ready for harvest they’re rushed into service, as they must be used quickly. Hops are ready when they hit a specific moisture content, and so must be the brewer. As an old chef of mine used to say, “they’re done when they’re done,” but last year Mankato Brewery hosted its Fresh Hopped IPA release party on Sept. 22, right on the equinox.

Toast them for making it with Minnesota grown hops, before you tilt one.

Citrus and caramel sweetness, floral and a bitter finish, I’ll take it with a rich, gamey or cured, meat and a veg from the family of brassicas. Bacon and Brussels sprouts, maybe lamb and broccoli raab blanched in salty water. Seven percent alcohol is enough to cut the richness,

roasted meat mates with the malt backbone, green veg, a tad bitter, finds company in floral hops. For an appetizer try endive leaves stuffed with a mix of diced fermented sausage and hard cheese.

For another tilt at the misconception that harvest and hale weather are mutually exclusive, allow me to arm myself with the words of John Greenleaf Whittier. In his poem, The Pumpkin, he paints the scene, “And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold, With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold, Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines, And the sun of September melts down on his vines.”

If you are one to get on the pumpkin wagon anyway, why not get on early? With Rumpkin, Avery Brewing Company beats the band. This rum-barrel aged Pumpkin Ale — part of Avery’s Annual Barrel-Aged series — is set to become available by the beginning of September. It comes out of fresh rum barrels at almost eighteen percent alcohol. Pumpkins are sourced at a farm in the same county as the Colorado brewery resides. The Ale is spiced similar to pumpkin pie. With notes of vanilla, molasses and ginger bread, it’s on the sweet side and tempts to be tried with a rich cheese, perhaps Taleggio. Or just under the September sky, at the time of year the night and day are nearly equal. Cheers.

Bert Mattson is a chef and writer based in St. Paul. He is the manager of the iconic Mickey’s Diner. bertsbackburner.com

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MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 39

Food Food SOUTHERN SOUTHERN MNMN STYLE STYLE

Adventurous eaters put on

State Fair game faces Plenty of new food to dig into at the Great Minnesota Get Together

By Amanda Dyslin

F

OOD. That’s why they go.

Some people drive the 90 minutes to the State Fair for the Grandstand events, carnival rides or livestock. Beer drinking is also a respectable reason.

B u t f o r m a ny f o l k s , t h e wonderful annual excuse to ignore daily caloric intake recommendations is the big draw.

Fried things. Foods on sticks.

Literally buckets of cookies and mounds of ice cream. Plus, they get to tell themselves that walking around all day will burn off at least half of what they consumed.

(I mean, right?)

“It’s the only day of the year I eat all the crap food I want,” said Tina Lee Cipriani-Brunson, who has been going to the fair for about 25 of her 46 years and says she and her husband, Ricky, have to try all the “new and crazy things, besides all the good old favorites.”

Cipriani-Brunson of Cleveland isn’t sure what she plans to tackle ű

Ǖ Ǖ \ Her husband likes sweet things (the Chocolate Popover with . + 0 Ĩ œŚ^ and she likes both sweet and salty, especially when the twain meet (maybe the Sweet Corn Blueberry Éclair?).

“We will try anything,” she said. “We have to have our old traditions, too – cheese curds, cookies, pickles, turkey legs, the pancake house, deep fried mozzarella on the stick … .”

40 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

Cheese curds are on Suzanne Mayer’s annual list, too. Mayer, her husband, Tony, and her 11-year-old son, Aidan, also choose ű

Ű

list each year, and they all share so they can each try something

ǕŰ \ 1

in their choices, too, she said.

“I tried the alligator bites one year – deep-fried alligator,” she said. “One year I tried the chocolate-dipped bacon. It’s not good, by the way. Bacon is good. Chocolate is good. But not together.”

Mayer has been going to the fair since she was 8 years old. Her dad was in the military, but the family would go with her grandparents when they came back to visit them. When they moved back when she was 14, the whole family would go to the fair most years, and the tradition of eating lots of really fun things began.

“We will try anything,” she said.

“We even tried habanero or ghost pepper jerky. We had to sign a waiver.”

As far as personal preferences go, Mayer leans toward sweets.

“This year I want to try the Cherry Bombs (red licorice dipped in batter, deep-fried and dusted with powdered sugar),” she said. “I also want to try the honey

ř . Ű ] ŕ fried dough balls that are crispy outside and sweet inside, tossed in a sweet syrup and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar).”

From the looks of various Fa c e b o o k c o m m e n t s a b o u t anticipating the fair, lots of area folks are looking forward to trying all of the above and more. “(We maybe don’t try) all of them, but we certainly make a point to try a few of the new offerings each year,” Brooks Wasiloski wrote. “We have never missed a fair yet. I even went in the womb.” ŀ3 ű Ǖ

ĨĿ C o u r t n ey A n d e r s o n w r o t e , succinctly.

Here’s a look at the new foods at this year’s State Fair: *Ǖ ů Grilled cinnamon bun sandwich with a bacon, peanut butter and ǔ ǔ ǔ ű Ǖ \ At 0 /Ǖ ǔ / , located on the west side of Clough St. between Carnes & Judson avenues *Ǖ 1 - A Belgian waffle served on-astick with bacon in the batter, dipped in chocolate, drizzled with maple syrup, and topped with whipped cream and bacon.

At ( Ǖ Ļ "ǔ

- ǔ , located on the east side of Underwood St. between Dan Patch & Carnes avenues, outside the Food Building * %Ļ )

Scoops of straight-up, raw cookie dough that is safe to eat and Ǖ Ǖ Ų ] Ǖ

Ǖ ^

Ǖ

Ǖ

^

Ǖ ^ and lemon ricotta cheesecake with blueberries. All served with a side

ŕŲ

Ǖ ǔǕ \ At * #

)ǔ Ŕ 0 Ǖ , located on the northeast corner of Carnes Ave. & Chambers St.

'

Ǖ -

ǔ - Ǖ * / Ǖ

Hot out-of-the-oven chocolate popover with a side of peanut butter spread.

At Ļ - ǔ ħ located at West End Market, south of the Schilling Amphitheater

* Ǖ Ǖ *

*

Waffle bowl filled with hash browns, maple syrup, scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese and bacon, topped with a biscuit, country sausage gravy and green onions.

At Ļ - ǔ , located at West End Market, south of the Schilling Amphitheater

' Ǖ 2ǔ .ǔ # Ǖ Ǖ Swedish-style meatballs with cranberries and wild rice blend covered with Lingonberry sauce.

At ǕǓ ǔ ' )ǔ ǔ Ǖ , located on the north side of Dan Patch Ave. between Underwood & Cooper streets

* $ Ǖ

% ǔ Ŕ(

Ǖ 0ǔ -ǔ Onions caramelized in Lift Bridge Brewery’s Chestnut Hill Brown Ale with smoked Gouda cheese, baked in a pie crust, topped with an onion sugar and drizzled with a sweet beer glaze.

At /Ǖ ǕĻ 0ǔ -ǔ , located in the Food Building, south wall

) Ŕ ǔ $ Ǖ

Avocado slices dipped in a lightly seasoned batter, deep-fried and served with chipotle ranch dipping sauce.

At %Ļ(Ǖ ǕĻ Ǖ Ǖǔ , located at the southwest corner of Dan Patch Ave. & Cosgrove St. ) ǔǕ ǔ / / Ǖ 0Ǖ ,ǕǕ Steak marinated in Modist Deviation 004 - Mexican Dark Chocolate Stout beer, grilled and topped with shredded lettuce, pico de gallo, queso fresco, cilantro lime and jalapeño ranch sauces, and wrapped in warm Ų \ At /Ǖ ǔ 0Ǖ , located in the Food Building, east wall

' ,Ǖ '

'

Roasted corn on the cob lightly coated with crushed Dorito® corn chips and nacho cheese.

At 0 Ǖ / Ǖ % ħ located on the west side of Underwood St. between Lee & Randall avenues ' * Ǔ Red licorice dipped in batter, deep-fried and dusted with powdered sugar.

At + ǔ ǔ ħ located on the north side of Dan Patch Ave. between Underwood & Cooper streets

) )

- * 100% ground pork belly burger topped with crisp smoked pork belly, pepper jack cheese, coleslaw and pickled onions, served on a toasted bun.

At .'Ļ **&, located on the north side of West Dan Patch Ave. between Liggett & Chambers streets

) *Ǖ 2

Duck bacon, grilled sweet corn and cream cheese combined inside deep-fried crescent-shaped wontons and served with dipping sauce.

At (ǔ Ļ 'ǕǓ ǔ ( ǔ , located at the southeast corner of Lee Ave. & Cooper St. at The North Woods Ǖ ( * Ǖ Ǖ -Ǖ ǔ ǔ Capicola and scrambled egg topped with white cheddar on ciabatta.

At 0 ǔ Ǖ Ǖ / Ǖ Ǖ , l o c a t e d i n t h e Ve r a n d a , Grandstand upper level, northwest section

- ů Ř ǕǓǕ ř Deep-fried dough balls crispy outside and sweet inside, tossed in a sweet syrup and sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.

At )ǔ Ļ ( , located on the north side of Carnes Ave. between Nelson & Underwood streets Ǖ ǔǕ * Ǔ Ǖ /Ǖ ǔ Beer-braised pork shoulder with prosciutto cotto ham, fontina cheese, giardiniera (Italian relish) and aioli on a grilled ciabatta roll.

At #Ǖ ǔ ǔĻ Ǖ , located on the north side of Carnes Ave. between Nelson & Underwood streets #Ǖ ' ǕǓ ,ǔ '

- ' ů Locally sourced heavy cream and maple syrup in a cold brew

Ű Ǖ Ǖ Ǖ \ At Ǖ Ǔ 1 ǔ ' ů / , located on the north side of Dan Patch Ave. between Cooper & Cosgrove streets # Ǔ ǔ 0

Sliced bananas and sautéed bacon over tater tots, topped with peanut sauce.

At / Ǖ , located in the Warner Coliseum, south concourse

MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 41

#Ç” Ç” /

Buttermilk scone holes filled with chocolate, marshmallow and NutellaÂŽ, deep-fried and topped with a dusting of powdered sugar.

(Gluten-free) At # Ç•

*Ǖ ŝ 'Ǖ located on the north side of Carnes Ave. between Nelson & Underwood streets # ĝ 'Ǖ ǔǕ Cream cheese dip with crab meat, green onions, fresh red pepper and water chestnuts,

Ǖ Ų

crackers.

At 0 Ç” Ç• Ç• / Ç• Ç• , l o c a t e d i n t h e Ve r a n d a , Grandstand upper level, northwest section /

Ç• /Ç• Ç• \ %, [*$)[)%( Tex-Mex sausage stuffed with pepper jack cheese, wrapped in bacon, baked and served on a cornmeal-dusted bun with fresh corn salsa and a drizzle of avocado ranch sauce.

At /Ç• Ç• /Ç” Ĺť # , located in the Food Building, east wall -Ç” Äť / #Ç• Ĺť / Ç• A sweet and tart mix of crunchy, spiced “airplaneâ€? cookies and lemon curd, topped with dark chocolate drizzle and served with vanilla ice cream as a sundae or malt At )Ç•Ç” (

*Ç• , located in the Dairy Building, south wall -Ç” Ç• Ç”

Flour tortilla filled with pepperoni, Italian sausage, risotto, mozzarella and marinara, coated with garlic butter, parmesan and Italian spices, baked and served with a side of marinara.

At ( #Ç” , located on the east side of Cooper St. between Randall & Wright avenues, at Family Fair at Baldwin Park / Ĺ”. Ç• - # 0Ç•Ç“Ç• Fresh corn tamale with slowroasted pork, mole coloradito sauce and black bean and pineapple relish.

At 0 Ç• , located in the Garden, north wall

42 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

/ Ç” 0 Ç•Ç” ,

Rice noodles and red curry with coconut milk served with kaffir lime, basil leaves, bell peppers, galangal, onions and tomatoes.

(Gluten-free) At %

,

, located in the Food Building, east wall

/ ' * ¼ Ǖǔ KernzaŽ Ų f Ǖ Ź Ǖ sweet corn pastry cream and topped with blueberry glaze.

At Ç• Ç“ 1 Ç” ' ĹŻ / , located on the north side of Dan Patch Ave. between Cooper & Cosgrove streets / Äť '

Sweet potato, cinnamon and nutmeg kneaded into a traditional churro dough, deep-fried and served with a side of chocolate or maple-brown sugar sauce or whipped cream.

At - Ç• #Ç• Ç• / , located on the west side of Liggett St. between Carnes & Judson avenues / Ç” Ĺť /

Bacon-wrapped pork belly and mashed potato croquettes served on a skewer and topped with a choice of homestyle gravy, Korean Bulgogi barbeque sauce or sweet chili sauce.

At / Ç” Ĺť / , located in the Warner Coliseum, northeast corner / Ç” )Ç• /Ç• Ç” Ho n ey s m o ke d s a l m o n , cucumbers, capers and cream cheese with fresh dill on pumpernickel, served with sliced lemon garnish.

At 0 Ç” Ç• Ç• / Ç• Ç• , l o c a t e d i n t h e Ve r a n d a , Grandstand upper level, northwest section 0 Ç” 0 Ĺł 0

Sliced peppers and bacon with

Ç• Ç”

Ĺ´ Ç• Ç”

Ĺ´ Ç• \ At 0 * *Ç• , located at West End Market, south of the History & Heritage Center 2Ç” *Ç” Äť * Ç• Ç• *Ç• Scrambled eggs, roasted chicken and chorizo sausage baked and topped with salsa and a mix of lettuce, pickled red onions and cilantro.

At 0 * *Ç• , located at West End Market, south of the History & Heritage Center - Source: mnstatefair.org

ơƏƼơŊƜ ưƭƪƊ

By Nell Musolf

Little metal houses for you and

me ‌

(Well, really only for me)

M

y husband and I bought a new house today. A two story Colonial with three bedrooms, two fireplaces and a very sharp rec room complete with a shuffleboard outline on the floor and a set of previously owned golf clubs in the corner. Best of all, we paid a grand total of $24.99 for it, marked down from $75 at a local thrift store, and we’ll never have to pay property taxes. Yep, it’s a metal house made sometime in the late 1950’s and a dead ringer for a house Beaver Cleaver’s family might have lived in.

This is our fifth metal doll house and as I searched for a place to put our latest acquisition — living room? family room? on the back of the toilet tank? — it occurred to me that we’ve crossed the line from collectors to possible obsession-driven lunatics.

It started innocently enough with a white dollhouse with green shutters that reminded me of my grandmother’s home and many happy memories of visiting her and drinking Coke out of glass bottles and eating Jay’s potato chips while watching her color T.V. For a long time that first dollhouse was enough ... until the day we stumbled across a 1960’s ranch style home – very rare in the world of metal houses – that I simply had to have.

Next was a Spanish hacienda on sale for the ridiculous price of $3 (due, I’m sure, to a faint patina of rust and a general gone-to-seed appearance, but for that price we could overlook a little wear and tear). The hacienda was followed by another traditional home (made special because it came with ÂĄĂ¨Ă˜ĂƒÂŤĂŁĂ¨Ă˜Â—Ęœ Â ĂƒÂ“ ÄƒĂƒÂ ÂźÂźĂş 㨗 ĂœĂ¨Ă•Â—Ă˜ “—Ÿèڗ

dream home bargain we found today.

It’s clear this collecting ing is getting out of hand, as it so often does with us. For a while we were into collecting Corning coffee pots, those ceramic coffee pots made out of space age Pyroceram, a ceramic material able to tolerate incredibly high temperatures such as the kind an astronaut might encounter on his way to the moon. Corning eventually Ă˜Â—Â? ŸŸ—“ ĂŁÂ¨ĂŠĂœÂ— Â?Êė—— Ă•ĂŠĂŁĂœ Ę ĂœĂŠĂ‚Â—ĂŁÂ¨ÂŤĂƒÂ˘ about the handle occasionally becoming separated from the pot — but that didn’t stop us from snapping èÕ Â—ĂłÂ—Ă˜Ăş ĂœÂŤĂƒÂ˘ÂźÂ— ĂŠĂ˜ĂƒÂŤĂƒÂ˘ Â?Êė—— Ă•ĂŠĂŁ ô— came across (which turned out to be quite a few.) If anyone ever wants to ĂŠĂ•Â—Ăƒ èÕ Â ĂŠĂ˜ĂƒÂŤĂƒÂ˘ Êė—— ZÂ¨ĂŠĂ•Ęƒ Ă•ÂźÂ—Â ĂœÂ— ¢ó— —  Â? ŸŸ Œ—Â?Â Ă¨ĂœÂ— , Â?Â Ăƒ Â“Â—ÄƒĂƒÂŤĂŁÂ—ÂźĂş get you started.

Back to our latest obsession. Even without a recall on metal dollhouses I’d like to say that our collection is complete but I’m not quite willing to commit myself to such a bold statement. Suppose we come across another rare ranch or perhaps a metal Tara? What if we find an apartment building or a school or a church?

We’re going to have to buy it and worry about where to put it later because, as any obsession-driven lunatic knows, better to buy something you want before someone else snaps it up than not buy it and have to spend the next few months lying awake every night wondering who got your dollhouse.

That’s the problem with collecting anything. It’s fun at first as well as relatively harmless. But slowly the fun is replaced with a compulsion to

possess all of the coffee pots and metal dollhouses in the world and, as everyone knows, compulsions can make you itch more than a mohair sweater.

My husband has talked vaguely of building a subdivision in our basement, a metal dollhouse version of one of those Christmas villages, but I’m not holding my breath as I’m still waiting for him to replace the dishwasher, paint the bathroom and throw out all of his 1980’s Zumba pants. I suspect what is more likely to happen is that we will keep on buying metal dollhouses Ă¨ĂƒĂŁÂŤÂź ĂŠĂƒÂ— ÄƒĂƒÂ— “ ú ĂŠĂ¨Ă˜ Â¨ĂŠĂ¨ĂœÂ— Ă˜Â—ĂœÂ—Ă‚ÂŒÂźÂ—Ăœ something that looks like a couple of crazy people who like to drink a lot of Â?Êė—— Â ĂƒÂ“ ՟ ú ôã¨ Â“ĂŠÂźÂźĂœ 㨠ã Ÿó— ÂŤĂƒ ÂŤĂŁĘˆ I have moments when I’m not exactly sad but perhaps slightly guilt ridden over the fact that we will not be leaving our sons much in the way of heirlooms. r— Ă´Â—Ă˜Â— ĂƒÂ—ĂłÂ—Ă˜ ÂŤĂƒĂŁĂŠ ÄƒĂƒÂ— Â?Â¨ÂŤĂƒÂ Ę›Ă¨ĂƒÂźÂ—ĂœĂœ Fiestaware falls into that category), nor did we collect original artwork or mutual funds. Instead, we’ve collected ĂœĂŁĂ¨Ä— ĂŁÂ¨Â ĂŁĘ°Ăœ Â˘ÂŤĂłÂ—Ăƒ Ă¨Ăœ ÂśĂŠĂşĘˆ , ĂœĂ¨ĂœĂ•Â—Â?ĂŁ 㨠ã œÊú ÂŤĂœ ĂƒĂŠĂŁ Â˘ĂŠÂŤĂƒÂ˘ ĂŁĂŠ Œ— a generational thing when they have to hire a moving truck to haul all our Â?Êė—— Ă•ĂŠĂŁĂœ Â ĂƒÂ“ —㠟 Â“ĂŠÂźÂźÂ¨ĂŠĂ¨ĂœÂ—Ăœ ĂŁĂŠ 㨗 nearest thrift store. But I’m hoping they will at least be gentle with us in their memories and remember that both their father and their mother always sat way too close to the television set Â ĂƒÂ“ ÂŒĂŠĂŁÂ¨ Ÿš—“ ĂŁĂŠ ĂœĂƒÂŤÄ— ÂĄĂ˜Â—ĂœÂ¨ÂźĂş Ă•Ă˜Â—ĂœĂœÂ—Â“ mimeographs.

Nell Musolf is a mom and freelance writer from Mankato.

She blogs at: nellmusolf.com MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 43

ƫƥƘƨƩƲ ƧƬƥƷ

By Jean Lundquist

Tales of baby corn, carrots and garlic E

very year with a garden is a le a r n i n g ex p e r i e n c e i n horticulture. Some things I learn once and they stick with me. Other things, I need to relearn every year.

Including this year.

For some reason, every year I think that if I pull on the stems of carrots, 㨠ú ô«¼¼ ¶èÜã ܼ« Êèã Ê¡ 㨠¢ØÊèà ʈ They won’t.

Usually, the first one or two will, Ã ã¨ Ø Üã ¢ ã 㨠Üã ¼¹Ü Õè¼¼ Êėʈ Makes it harder to dig them when I ăà ¼¼ú ô ¼¹ ¹ ãÊ ã¨ Ü¨ à ¢ ã a trowel to dig them out with. Then, there is nothing to hang onto to pull them out of the ground. If I have to use a shovel rather than a trowel, I usually ܼ« ÊèÕ¼ Ê¡ 㨠ØØÊãÜ «Ã ãôÊʃ ¶èÜã like I used to do when digging potatoes,

pre-potato bag days.

Somehow, though, I don’t think carrots will do well in my pretty red potato bags. Carrots and other root crops generally need to be planted directly into the ground so they have enough room. Although, my friend Judy told me over lunch one day this summer that her carrots were doing “great” in her raised beds this year.

Some things I hope I remember for next year and beyond: ̎ xÊè à ¢ØÊô ¼ÊãÜ Ê¡ ú ÊØà «Ã a very small space, as pollination is not required. As soon as you see silk emerging from any place on the stalk, it means the baby corn is ready. Don’t wait until you can see or feel an ear in the husks, or

it could easily get too big. Pick it immediately, and make sure you have other stir fry ingredients at the ready, because your mouth will be watering for stir fry looking at that fresh baby corn. I froze the excess straight, without blanching it. I’ll let you know how that turns out. ̎ B ó Ø ¡ÊØ¢ ã ãÊ Õèã «Õ ¼ Êà 㨠broccoli. (Dipel is harmless to humans and animals, but deadly for butterfly caterpillars.) Those sneaky cabbage looper worms are the same color as broccoli until they are cooked. Then, they turn white.

Like sunscreen, use the Dipel. As long as you’ve got it handy, sprinkle some on the Brussels sprouts and the cabbage, too, to keep them from getting chewed on. ̎ B ó Ø ¢ØÊô ÿè ¨«Ã« «Ã Õ¼ Ãã Ø or a pot, unless you can afford a babysitter to watch over it and give it a drink every time it shows signs of wilting. ̎ B ó Ø ¢ØÊô Ø ¢Êà a «¼ V «Ü¨ Ü for any reason. They sounded good, since I like the young, tender seed pods from other radishes in salads.

Though there was no waiting for the Dragon Tail radishes to bolt (go to seed), they were a massive tangled mess. And if you do plant them, don’t plant a whole packet.

One or two seeds will do the trick, Ü ã¨ ú Ø ÕØʼ«ă ʈ , ¶èÜã ¨ÊÕ , ¢Êã them pulled out soon enough that my whole garden isn’t covered with their seeds next year. They could become as big a pest as purslane, and that’s pretty bad.

44 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

ĚŽ SÂźÂ ĂƒĂŁ ÂĄÂ—Ă´Â—Ă˜ ĂŁĂŠĂ‚Â ĂŁĂŠÂ—ĂœĘˆ ZÂ—Ă˜ÂŤĂŠĂ¨ĂœÂźĂşĘƒ , don’t need so many tomatoes. Most of what I canned last year still sits on the shelf in the basement, so yeah, fewer tomato plants next year. ĚŽ ĂŠĂƒĘ°ĂŁ Ă•ÂźÂ ĂƒĂŁ Â ĂœĂ•Â—Ă˜ Â—Â˘Â˘Ă•ÂźÂ ĂƒĂŁĂœ Â Â˘Â ÂŤĂƒĘˆ They are white, and cute to pick and cook, but their texture is all wrong for an eggplant. ĚŽ ÂźĂ´Â ĂşĂœ Ă•ÂźÂ ĂƒĂŁ Â˘Â Ă˜ÂźÂŤÂ? ÂŤĂƒ 㨗 Â˘Ă˜ĂŠĂ¨ĂƒÂ“Ęƒ never in attractive planters by the front steps. All of my garlic froze out last winter, so when I plant it this fall, it will go directly in the ground. Thanks to the Garlic Lady at the Mankato Farmers’ Market in Mankato Leah Jewison, I have grown picky about my garlic. I’ll have to visit local garden stores early this fall to get the garlic varieties I need.

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All in all, my tiny little garden did ô—ŸŸ ÂŒĂş — ĂŁÂ¨ÂŤĂœ ĂœĂ¨Ă‚Ă‚Â—Ă˜Ęˆ AĂş ÄƒĂ˜ĂœĂŁ Ă˜ÂŤĂ•Â— tomato was my beloved Black Krim, and the Green Ice Cucumbers were ĂƒÂ—ĂłÂ—Ă˜ Ă‚ĂŠĂ˜Â— Ă•Ă˜ĂŠÂźÂŤÄƒÂ?Ęˆ

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Jean Lundquist is a master gardener who lives near Good Thunder.

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www.cimankato.com MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 45

Your style

By Ann Rosenquist Fee Gentlemen, find your palettes.

Repeal and replace ...

S

With bronzer!

o I have this friend who has cancer, he knows we know he has cancer and he’s not going to feel bad about opening up Mankato Magazine and seeing that I referenced his cancer.

He knows who he is. He knows that when he walks into a room of friends he hasn’t seen a while, and the friends miss a beat or drop eye contact for a moment while they try to reconcile his previously robust 6’6” frame and previously splendid crop of hair with the current ashy peachy gray of his skin, and his current baldness, he knows the friends feel bad about how obvious that is. The obviousness of their confusion and then the obviousness of their sadness and then the obviousness of how hard they’re working, in those few seconds, to obliterate the weirdness.

To move past it and bounce right back to a normal reaction, except maybe 46 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

that’s not appropriate? Because he has cancer? Maybe a more tender “hi” or a slightly sad “hi” is more appropriate than just full-on “hi?”

He knows this. Which is how he and I got right down to it, recently, talking about the value of bronzer as a diagnostic tool. And how maybe, possibly, maybe he might have perceived something was wrong sooner than he did, if we lived in a world where 1) cosmetics were the norm for dudes, and 2) it were an acceptable thing, when your doctor asks if you’ve had any changes or symptoms lately, to say, “actually yes, my bronzer just isn’t working for me.”

The advantage makeup-wearers have, which my dude friend unfortunately lacked, is the daily up-close practice of evaluating the tone of your skin. You go spending $45 on Dermablend pressed

powder in Nude, you are damn well counting on it working for you down to the last crumb. The feeling you get when you look into the try-on makeup mirror, and the saleswoman affirms that this is your shade, and you also feel you’ve achieved a more even-coated and matte (or pearlescent!) version of your own exact color? That is a moment you expect to repeat, over and over, every makeup morning until the stuff runs out. When that stops happening, and instead you find yourself not loving the look and instead thinking, “huh, this suddenly looks way more rosy (or peachy or yellowy or mocha-y) than my current face,” then you have a problem.

I don’t know which problem, exactly. It might be a cold coming on, or vitamin B-12 deficiency, or dehydration, or or or. The nice part is, devoted makeup people are detail-people, and if you

notice a change and you’re on maybe your third new compact of a new brand of powder and you still can’t stop looking weirdly ashen, it’s perfectly OK to bring your makeup and this article to a health professional and see what might be up.

As we know, the results obtained using the scientific method must be repeatable, and sure enough, I ran this by my friend Kathy and she was all “I did exactly that thing with puffy eye products right before I was diagnosed with Grave’s Disease!” Which is a thyroid disorder which can make a person’s eyes protrude. “I just kept buying stuff. All different stuff. And I was like, why isn’t any of this doing anything? Why are my eyes so puffy? Is this because I’m 30 now?”

It wasn’t. It was because her thyroid gland was conking out, and if we lived in a world rational enough to embrace the potential of cosmetics as an assessment tool, Kathy probably would have spent a whole lot less money in the eye cream section of CVS. Might also have brought her endocrine system back into balance a bit more swiftly and surely.

I’m not sure where things are at in terms national health care legislation, or whether it’s even on the list to make cosmetics a reimbursable medical expense. That would probably depend on whether anyone working on repealing-and-replacing has intimate long-term knowledge of bronzer or eye cream. If that’s the case, I can’t imagine this not happening. Because it doesn’t get much more simple or prudent or efficient, as a health care measure, than requiring people to look themselves in the eyes and skin, daily or so, and know themselves well enough to notice when something’s off.

I’m calling it Ann’s Rosy Glow Act. I haven’t drafted or proposed it yet or figured out if we’ll need a petition.

I don’t know where to go from here, exactly. But I think all in favor should meet me at the entrance to Ulta where they have nice big shopping totes and about a billion shades of every product, and we’ll get to work.

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Ann Rosenquist Fee is executive director of the Arts Center of Saint Peter and a vocalist with The Frye.

She blogs at annrosenquistfee.com.

422 Park Lane, Mankato, MN | www.NuStarMankato.com MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 47

Coming Attractions: September 2

Joel Kachel 4:30-8 p.m. Mankato Brewery — 1119 Center St. — North Mankato — free admission — www.mankatobrewery.com/events.

8 Mankato Pridefest: Queer-aoke

8 p.m. — Loose Moose — 119 Front St. — Mankato — free admission — 18+ until 10 p.m., 21+ after 10 p.m. — www.scmnpride.org/festival

9 Mankato Pridefest: Pride Parade

11:30 a.m. — Riverfront Drive — Mankato — www.scmnpride.org/festival

9 Mankato Pridefest: Pride Festival

12-5 p.m. — Riverfront Park — Mankato — free — www.scmnpride.org/festival

9 Mankato Pridefest: Pride Dance Party

8 p.m. — Morson-Ario VFW — 1900 N. Riverfront Drive — Mankato — $7 in advance, $10 at door — 18+ until 10 p.m., 21+ after 10 p.m. — www.scmnpride.org/festival

13

MSU Good Thunder Series: Craft Talk, Juan Felipe Herrera 3 p.m. — First Congregational UCC — 150 Stadium Court — Mankato — Free — www.gt.mnsu.edu.

13

MSU Good Thunder Series: “An Evening with Juan Felipe Herrera and the Aktion Club Theatre Poets”, 6:30 p.m. — Elias J. Halling Recital Hall — Minnesota State University — Free — www.gt.mnsu.edu.

14

MSU Good Thunder Series: Workshop, Juan Felipe Herrera 10 a.m. — Emy Frentz Gallery — 523 S. Second St. — Mankato — Free — www.gt.mnsu.edu.

14

MSU Good Thunder Series: Reading, Alyssa Striplin 7:30 p.m. — Centennial Student Union room 253 — Minnesota State University — Free — www.gt.mnsu.edu.

16 Uncorked MN 2017: Wine and Music

Series with music by Ken Valdez, Reneé Austin, and Kat Perkins 3-10 p.m. — Chankaska Creek Ranch and Winery — 1179 E. Pearl St. — Kasota — $20 advance, $25 at the door, $10 for Wine Circle Members — www.chankaskawines.com.

17 Dumpy Jug Bumpers

7:30 p.m. — Halling Recital Hall of Earley Center for Performing Arts — Minnesota State University — Mankato — $12 general, $11 for MSU students — www.mnsu.edu/music/events.

19 Dusty Heart

7:30 p.m. — Halling Recital Hall of Earley Center for Performing Arts — Minnesota State University — Mankato — $12 general, $11 for MSU students — www.mnsu.edu/music/events.

23

Bier on Belgrade 2-8 p.m. — Belgrade Avenue — North Mankato — 21+ — $15 — www.businessonbelgrade.org.

9

Eighth Annual Grape Stomp and Vendor Show 12-9 p.m. — Indian Island Winery — 18018 631st St. — Janesville — $2 — www.indianislandwinery.com.

9 Dan and Shay

8 p.m. — Verizon Wireless Center — 1 Civic Center Plaza — Mankato — $32.50, $27.50 — www.verizonwirelesscentermn.com.

10 Styx

7:30 p.m. — Verizon Wireless Center — 1 Civic Center Plaza — Mankato — $125, $85, $65, $45, $35 — www.verizonwirelesscentermn.com.

Celebrating Minnesota Authors and Books

Authors and Deep Valley Appetizers Gala Book Festival October 6 5:30 - 7:30pm

13 Flo Rida with Lizzo

6 p.m. — Vetter Stone Amphitheater — Mankato — $87.50, $49.50 advance sale, $55 at door — www.verizonwirelesscentermn.com.

13-16

MSU Theatre Presents: Why Torture is Wrong and the People Who Love Them 7:30 p.m. — Andreas Theatre — Minnesota State University — $10 regular, $9 discount (seniors ages 65 and up, children ages 16 and under, or groups of 15 or more), $8 MSU students — 507-389-6661.

48 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

10 - 5pm

Mankato Event Center, 12 Civic Center Plaza, Suite #10

11

Ray Bonneville 7:30 p.m. — Halling Recital Hall of Earley Center for Performing Arts — Minnesota State University — Mankato — $15 general, $13 for MSU students — www.mnsu.edu/music/events.

October 7

Where readers and authors Meet Keynote Author

Allen Eskens Meet Authors, Illustrators & Publishers Book Sales & Signings

Author Panels Food Music & More

Special Guest Author

It’s Free!

Faith Sullivan

Fun For All Ages!

For more information www.mnheritage.com/BookFestival.html

Children’s Activities Family Fun

SPONSORED BY:

Minnesota Heritage Publishing

The Free Press MEDIA

Faces & Places: Photos By SPX Sports

EAGLE LAKE TATOR DAYS 1. Josiah and Everett Bryant cool off in the kiddie pool at Potatopalooza in Eagle Lake.

2. Tyler and Brian Thilges get soaked in the kids’ water fight provided by the Eagle Lake Fire Department.

3. (Left to Right) Sara, Kelsey, and Collin Sletten wait for the Tator Day Parade to begin.

4. Hans Tackett waits for the parade to start.

5. Chael Holt made many trips through the Space Walk Inflatables.

6. Anna Bow enjoys a snow cone on the hot day, supplied by Mankato Area Women of Today.

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MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 49

Faces & Places: Photos By SPX Sports

PEPPERS CLASSIC TOURNAMENT

1. (Left to Right) Jennifer Kretsch, Claire Dau, and Ashley Thell MC’d the opening ceremony.

2. Hallie Ellefson threw the first pitch in dedication of Lexi Kretsch.

3. The Peppers team 14 U Elite was one of the first teams to start off the third annual Classic Tournament.

4. The banner was displayed for the honorary player Lexi Kretsch.

5. Jennifer Kretsch honored her daughter, Lexi Kretsch, during the open ceremony for the Peppers Classic Tournament.

6. These Peppers players are excited to play in the tournament later in the day.

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50 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

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Faces & Places: Photos By SPX Sports 1

CHANKASKA WINEK TRAIL RUN 1. After guiding the participants with a warm up stretch , Jason Tompkins, with Ignition Fitness & Sports, ran the race as well.

2. The Chankaska WineK Trail Run got off to a great start.

3. People lined up for registration before the race began.

4. Many businesses and vendors came to promote their establishment at the WineK Trail Run. 5. Cassandra Magnussen and Ashleigh Bruender were making progress on the trail.

6. One group poses for a photo before the race begins.

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MANKATO MAGAZINE • SEPTEMBER 2017 • 51

From this Valley

By Pete Steiner

R

Bicycling apostle

ichard Keir wondered whether he would ever ride again. Screaming down Warren Street hill on a fairly mild winter day, he had hit a patch of black ice. Before you could snap your fingers, he and his bicycle slammed to the pavement. Fortunately his wife was in a car not far behind. He couldn’t walk, he told her. Two EMT’s heading for work came by and put Richard into their car to take him to the hospital. Within hours, he was in surgery to repair a femur (the large thigh bone) that had broken in four places. He spent three days in the hospital and five weeks in rehab. Nearing 80, he knew prospects for recovery were not what they might have been when Keir first took up serious cycling two-thirds of a lifetime ago.

Gearing Up

Growing up on a farm in northern Iowa, Richard Keir first got into disciplined bicycling as a grad student at Nebraska following military service. He subsequently took a job at Iowa Lakes Community College in Estherville, running their career options program for handicapped students. In the meantime, he got his Flight Instructor and Instrument Rating. When wife Grace, a textile master and expert seamstress, took a job in FCS at then-Mankato State University, Richard ended up as chief flight instructor at the Mankato airport.

The couple lived apart for a while when Richard took a job as Assistant Chief Flight Instructor at the University of Illinois-Champaign-Urbana. Keir’s passion for cycling had already led him into bicycle repair way back in the Estherville days. Other avid cyclers who knew he was handy asked if he would work on their bikes — “mostly the old 10-speeds.” That got him into frame-straightening and into buying parts from a well-known distributor. KeirWheelwright was born.

In 1979, he and Grace went to Scotland to trace his family ancestry on an extended bike trip. “We learned Scotland is terribly hilly and terribly windy,” he grins. “We got in shape pretty quick!” But the trip also drove home the need for proper gearing of their touring bikes. So he began tinkering with half-step gearing, partly to improve his own ride.

The Proselytizer

When he rejoined Grace full-time in Mankato in the early ’90’s, Keir was underwhelmed by the local biking scene. “There was no professional bike shop, the streets were rough,” and, as he tried navigating the town on his bike, “drivers kept offering me unfriendly gestures.” He began meeting with the city’s multi-modal transportation 52 • SEPTEMBER 2017 • MANKATO MAGAZINE

committee, pleading for designated bike lanes. He credits fellow cyclist Tom Engstrom for helping advance the efforts — “He’s a born salesman. I was a one-man show until he came along!” Now, a quarter-century later, Keir says, it’s “day and night; we’re closer to a critical mass of bicycles getting people around.”

Keir’s Wheelwright

In 1996, nearing retirement, Keir opened his Mankato bike repair shop in half of his large garage. As we chat in the neatly-organized space, he’s wearing a T-shirt that says, “Share the Road.” Fliers advertising the upcoming Mankato River Ramble are stacked on a stool. Six bikes in various states of assembly hang from ceiling hooks. Some are brought in for repair, some put up on consignment. Leaned against a workbench is a touring Surly (the bike, not the beer.) Work comes in via word of mouth — he’s not in competition with local bike shops.

“It keeps me as busy as I want to be, keeps me out of the bars,” he jokes. “It basically pays for my hobby.”

Survivor and Thriver

Keir’s never been one to sit around, especially now. “If you work all your life and then sit down in a rocker, in a couple years they’ll be patting your face with a spade.” After rehab, he got on a wind-training machine in his basement.

Fifteen months after the black ice incident, he was back on the streets. Today, he is up to cycling 40 miles a week on that Surly. Maybe that’s part of what helps him look 20 years younger than his chronological age.

In a month, which will be two-and-a-half years after the accident, Keir will be deeply involved in the Mankato River Ramble, a touring event he helped create. It’s a growing “destination” affair that attracts lots of Twin Cities and other cycling enthusiasts. Keir will ride if he can squeeze in time between organizational duties. He takes personal satisfaction in the role he’s played in making greater Mankato a burgeoning bicycle mecca, but there’s more to be done: “We need work [on bike lanes] where parked cars can open doors right into [a bike’s path.]”

Keir, as he occasionally does, suggests to a back-page columnist, “Why don’t we ride out to the radio station Monday?” While awaiting an answer from his less-intrepid interrogator, he smiles and gazes around the shop. “I never knew what I wanted to do when I grew up. As you can see, I have avoided growing up!”

Peter Steiner is host of “Talk of the Town” weekdays at 1:05 p.m. on KTOE.

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