A special supplement by the Park Rapids Enterprise
ChristmasSpecial Dec. 22, 2018
Oranges for Christmas By John Zentz Park Rapids
Memories, ahh, memories. Without memories you would be no more, and I an empty shell. So, let’s explore some memories. Take my hand and we shall go back through the years to the magical time of this child’s Christmas. We will catch the tail of an imaginary comet and it will whisk us back to a little 40-acre rock farm in northern Minnesota. A tar paper shack, smack in the middle of the Great Depression. Well, as you may have guessed, we didn’t have much. Still God, with his infinite wisdom, gave us a very, very special gift – my father. Sadly, we lost him to a fatal car accident at just 56 years old. A proud man. To my knowledge, never took a hand-out in his entry life. Except once. It was mid-December. As always in northern Minnesota, it was very cold. Our farm was 14 miles from a small town, known as Pine River. Our government was trying
to support the folks throughout the country as best they could. There was a government program to get fresh fruit to families. The radio – our only way of getting any information – was broadcasting there would be free oranges, available in Pine River. My Mom jumped up, hugged my dad and whispered in his ear, “You must go and get some. It will be our only Christmas.” dad kissed her then slowly put on his coat. I remember that coat. It made him look like a big bear. He had a raccoon hat with big ear flaps, then came his big boots. He moved slowly like this was something he didn’t want to do, then he was out the door and soon lost in the snow. Snow we had a lot of. dad had to make the long, 28 miles round trip with just a horse and sleigh. Yes, we had a car, a 1929 Model A Coop, but the roads were not plowed. In those days, we were lucky to have a road. So, that horse and sleigh and my dad
ORANGES: Page C7
Rudolph the rabbit By MacKenzie Tastan Union City, Calif. Lisa stared up at the starry sky and sighed. It was Christmas Eve, and she felt the weight of her failure pressing down on her shoulders like Santa’s sack filled with coal. This was their first Christmas after the divorce, and Lisa had worked hard to make it nice and normal, but she wasn’t able to give either of her children the gift
they really wanted. Both of them really wanted a puppy, but their apartment didn’t allow pets. Back in their old house, with a yard and plenty of space, it would have been easy. It was just one more thing their father had promised them and then never delivered. She looked up and imagined Santa Claus riding by with his reindeer. “Dear Santa,” she whispered,
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Santa’s visit By Lois Mcclatchie Park Rapids My elementary school had two rooms. One was for grades one through three, and the other housed grades four through six. Each year, the kids from both rooms got together and presented a Christmas program. We performed plays, recited poems and sang songs on a wooden stage. Our parents brought “lunch,” which consisted of hot dishes, sandwiches, Jell-O, cakes and cookies. The highlight of the night was Santa’s arrival. He showed up in a hay wagon pulled by two horses who were outfitted with jingling harness bells. We knew whose horses they were, but Santa’s identity was always a cause for speculation among older kids. He brought candy and apples for us, “ho, ho, ho-ing” as he passed out goodies. Whoever he really was, those nights he was Santa.
SANTA: Page C4
Why me, Lord? By Theresa Henderson Menahga There’s a song that was quite popular years ago beginning with the words “Why me, Lord?” Over three and a half years ago, I began a new journey in my life. The Cancer Journey. I was diagnosed by Mayo Clinic with stage IV endometrial cancer. Six to 12 months, they said, if I did nothing. Many people would meet me along the way of this journey. Because of my faith, I was often asked, “Don’t you ever ask God ‘why me?’” My quick response was “why not me?” I never once considered that I shouldn’t have cancer any more than the next person. This Christmas, as I prepare to celebrate my first holiday cancer-free, I have, however, asked myself “why me?” several times. I remember the family who lost their adult daughter to cancer just days before Christmas last year. A wonderful woman with young children still in the home. She was diagnosed after me and her courageous battle ended about a year-and-a-half later. I think of how hard it is for those left here without her. Husband, children, siblings and a mom and dad who must ache just to hold her one more time. I
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RUDOLPH: Page C8
Every year, entrants in the Park Rapids Enterprise’s annual Christmas Story Contest share their gift of writing. Some inspire, others make us laugh or wipe away a tear. Grab a cup of cocoa, find a comfortable chair and enjoy this mix of creative fiction, personal essay, poem and memoir. Thank you to all of our contributors!
C2 Saturday, December 22, 2018
ChristmasSpecial
Park Rapids Enterprise
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The end of the year brings no greater joy than the opportunity to express to you season’s greetings and good wishes. May your holidays and New Year be filled with joy.
ChristmasSpecial
Park Rapids Enterprise
Christmas at the farm
The Christmas Spam Spam was an Xbox, complete with two controllers and several games. Ben lost his job shortly before It was exactly what his two boys wanted for Christmas. Christmas. Next, he formed a Barbie doll “The work’s dried up,” his boss with with a Barbie Corvette, her told him, sadly. Ben hauled for a small lumber little girl’s desired gift. He sculpted a small Spam Christcompany that was hit hard by the construction lull. He knew this day mas tree with tiny Spam ornawas coming, but he never thought ments. Lastly he constructed a turkey feast with all the trimming it would happen this soon. “But it’s Christmas,” Ben nearly entirely from Spam. When he was done at around four o’clock in the pleaded. “Which is worst time of year, morning, he looked over what he what with the snow and all,” his had done. “Not bad,” he smiled in a half boss shook his head. “Sorry, Ben.” So it was on Christmas Eve Ben daze. “Maybe they won’t know found himself with no money for the difference.” As he was dozing his family’s holiday. He hadn’t at the table, he thought of one told his wife and kids. He didn’t more gift. Carefully, he crafted a know how to tell them. As with small diamond ring for his wife, every year, they were expecting the the one gift he had never been able works: Christmas tree, presents, to afford for her. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought how happy turkey dinner, etc. As everyone slept, Ben shuffled she would be to have it. “If only it aimlessly through the house not was real…” he mumbled in a halfknowing what to do. He looked dream. “Dad!” a noise came from the through the garage and the closets as if they might hold some secret darkness. “Dad! Dad!” Ben startled awake to see his answer. He ended up in the kitchen where he could only find his wife’s youngest son Eddie’s face close to stockpile of Spam. There were doz- his. “This is the best Christmas ens and dozens of shiny blue cans lining the shelves. Ben plucked ever!” he cried before running back a few of them off the shelf and to join his brother to play Fallout on their new Xbox. placed them on the kitchen table. “Dad, I love my doll!” said his “Who in the world buy so much daughter as she kissed him on his Spam?” he said out loud. Before going back to sleep, the cheek. He hugged her back, enjoydog looked over to see Ben folded ing the feel of her warmth against over the kitchen table, weeping in his body. That was when he saw his wife sitting across from him, his arms. Then suddenly a desperate idea with tears streaming down her occurred to Ben. He stood up and cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. began pulling every last can of Spam from the shelf. He laid down Ben saw the large diamond gleama plastic table cover and popped ing on her finger. She got up to open each can of Spam dumping give him a passionate kiss. Everythe slimy pink bricks onto the thing was exactly as he imagined table. When he had a substantial it. “And if it’s a dream,” Ben pile, he grabbed a butter knife and thought. “I never want to wake started to work. The first thing he made out of up.” By David Fallon Victorville, Calif.
By Dave Dwyer Park Rapids It was 1949 and just two days before Christmas. I was six years old at the time. Our family – my dad and mom, me, and my little sister and brother – were headed for my grandparent’s farm near Lisbon, North Dakota. My mom, being the first born child in her family, had convinced my dad that we should leave a day early so she could surprise her dad and help her mom with the Christmas celebration preparations. We were all excited about getting to spend Christmas with Grandpa and Grandma Wheeler and our aunts and uncles and cousins. My mom was especially happy because she would be able to be home to celebrate her birthday on Christmas Eve with her entire family. We sang lots of Christmas carols and had a contest to see who could spot the next Burma Shave signs along the way. It was going to be a wonderful Christmas, for sure. There had been a major blizzard over all of North Dakota a couple days earlier, but the roads had all been plowed, except the last half mile of prairie dirt road leading up to grandpa’s farm where about two feet of snow blocked the way. The sun had gone down about a half hour earlier, but the wind was calm and the stars were shining brightly, along with an almost full moon in the well below-zero coldness of the winter night. The decision was made that my dad would walk to get help from Grandpa Wheeler to bring the tractor to either break a trail or tow our car up to the farmhouse. My mom and us kids would wait in the old Chevy because it was too cold and the snow too deep for us to try to walk that far. After what seemed like a really long time, we saw Grandpa and his team of horses pulling a hay wagon on wooden runners and coming down the driveway through the snow. Grandpa and my dad had been unable to get the old John Deere started, so the horses and the hay
Saturday, December 22, 2018 C3
wagon were the only other option. We could even hear the bells on the horse’s harnesses ringing as the hay sled drew near. Grandpa got the team turned around. My dad jumped off the hay wagon and helped my mom, me and my sister and brother, along with the blankets and suitcases and Christmas gifts, onto the sled and we headed for the house. We could see the steam rising off the horse’s backs and hear the creaking of the snow beneath the sled runners in the otherwise silent night. We could even smell the wood smoke from the old Warm Morning stove in the living room that we knew would soon be making us toasty warm again. It was so fun. It was going to be the greatest Christmas ever. Our family spontaneously began to sing “Jingle bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the way. O what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh. Hey!” And I will never forget my grandpa turning around and looking at us all wrapped up in blankets and huddled together on the hay singing, and heard him say, without a smile, and in a very loud voice, “If you guys don’t stop that singing back there I’m going to make you all walk the rest of the way to the house.” We knew that he was not kidding. Apparently, my grumpy grandpa had just realized that he was going to be cooped up in his own house full noisy grandkids for the next two or three days. It also became apparent to me sometime later that somehow grandpa hadn’t really gotten the message about “Joy to the world, the Lord is come. Let earth receive her King. Let every heart prepare Him room and heaven and nature sing.” May God richly bless all of you with His presence and peace and joy as you celebrate the birth of His Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.
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ChristmasSpecial
C4 Saturday, December 22, 2018
Park Rapids Enterprise
An apple fritter Christmas
enjoys them and I planned to buy a dozen and take some home to him. I drove the old pickup into the parking lot of Gracie’s on East Main. As I got out I could smell the apples, cinnamon, bread and pastry baking. I was looking forward to a strong cup of coffee and a couple of those apple fritters. I went to the counter to place my order and was informed they had sold out of apple fritters. I told the young lady behind the counter that I was headed home from college for the holidays and wanted to take some apple fritters home to my dad and would be glad to wait if they were going to make more. She explained they were out of apples and fritter mix and couldn’t make any. Needless to say, I was disappointed, but ordered a cup of coffee and two jelly donuts. I saw the clerk on the telephone, but didn’t pay her any attention. About 10 minutes later as I was getting ready to leave, the front door of the bakery opened and an older woman that reminded me of my grandmother came in carrying a box.
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Junior high school was different. The school had two floors of classrooms in a large building that was in a much bigger town. Santa didn’t show up there. But he was not out of my life. One December evening when I was 14, my mother set her sewing down and told me that this Christmas she wanted me to visit a neighbor’s home to act as “Santa” for their children. “What? Huh? WHAT???” I looked up, blindsided. But, I shouldn’t have been. My mother had a habit of assigning me outside-the-box missions. “I have it all planned,” she said. “You will put your dad’s red hunting jacket on over a couple of pillows. I have made a beard for you out of cotton batting, and I hooked it onto the side of a red sock hat. I found a rubber Santa mask for you at the dime store.” “No, nope, uh-uh, no way. Nobody’s going to think I’m Santa. Those kids know me. They won’t buy it. Why me? I’m a girl. Isn’t there someone around with real whiskers?” “It will be fun!” my mother persisted. “Their folks will leave a gunny sack with the kids’ presents in it on their porch and when you get there you can sling it over your shoulder, knock on the door and all you’ll have to do is walk in and put the sack under their Christmas tree. Easy!” She had already told the neighbor I’d do it. It was a done deal. So, on Christmas Eve, I
dressed in my dad’s red deer hunting jacket and pants and put on the crimson sock hat with cotton batting beard and stuffy Santa mask. I trudged through the snow to our neighbor’s house in my father’s big, black boots. As planned, a gunny sack filled with presents was waiting on the porch. I picked it up, heaved it over my shoulder and stood there, puffed out in acres of red wool, balancing the bulky sack with one arm and jangling a cow bell (my mother’s idea) with the other. “Did you hear that kids? It’s Santa! Come in! Come in!” The house went quiet as I stepped in with the sack. Everyone was staring at me. The kids’ mother had a big smile on her face. Their father looked at me as if he had just discovered a new kind of bug. I had to think fast. “Ahem…Ho Ho Ho!” I called into the silence. “Umm, I, uh had to walk here because Rudolph and the sleigh got hung up in some trees. I couldn’t get up on the roof so I came to your door.” I laid the sack of presents next to their Christmas tree and edged uneasily toward the door. But, the children didn’t run to their presents. They were gazing at me with big, bright eyes. One stepped closer and shyly whispered, “Thank you, Santa Claus.” I stopped moving and peeked at the children through the slits in my mask. They smiled trustingly at me, secure in their hearts that I was the real thing. “Santa” suddenly decided to return in Dad’s old red jacket next year.
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She walked over to me and said, “Hi, I’m Gracie and I hear you are looking to buy some apple fritters.” I said, “Yes, ma’am.” She smiled, extended the box to me and said, “Well, you’re in luck, here is a dozen.” She went on to explain that she had taken a dozen home with her to take to church on Sunday, but after hearing my story thought I needed them more than her Sunday School class. I thanked her, offered to pay double, but she said, “No, just think of them as a Christmas present from her to me and your dad.” I thanked her, thanked the young lady that made the call and left $2 in the tip jar. As I drove out of the bakery parking lot, Gracie and the others stood by the front door and waved goodbye. The truck radio was playing “Silent Night” as I waved back with a warm feeling and a tear in my eye. Now 50 years later, I still think of the kindness and generosity that was shown to me that day. Yes, Dad did get some apple fritters.
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By Doug Lennier Park Rapids It was a cold December morning, at least for Texas, a few days before Christmas in 1968. My roommate gave me a hug and said, “Happy holidays and be careful driving home.” I hugged him back and said, “You, too. See you in January for the spring semester.” I watched him get in his car, wave and drive out of the dorm parking lot, headed home to Cisco, Texas for the holidays. I got in my old Ford pickup, started it up and sat there for a few minutes letting the motor get warm. What a difference a year makes, I was thinking. This time last year I was still in the U.S. Air Force, stationed in South Korea, just about freezing and counting the days until my four-year enlistment would be up in June 1968. Now here I was, back in college, had made new friends and going home for Christmas to be with my family. It was about 190 miles and a four- to five-hour drive north up U.S. Hwy. 271 to Ft. Smith, Arkansas from my dorm at ETSU in Commerce. I looked at my watch and it was 9 a.m. If I made good time and didn’t have any problems, I should be home by 2 p.m. It was Saturday, Dec. 21. Being the weekend, there would not be much traffic. The weather was cold but sunny, so I thought I’d be home before supper. As I started north, I turned the truck radio to WFAA and listened to some Christmas music. Brenda Lee was singing “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” I was looking forward to being home and mom’s good cooking. Just about then I saw the road sign that indicated Hugo, 20 miles. I knew that I would be crossing the Red River into Oklahoma in about 30 minutes. Gracie’s Bakery was in Hugo and they had the best apple fritters I had ever eaten. My dad
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ChristmasSpecial
Park Rapids Enterprise
Saturday, December 22, 2018 C5
Relishing old and new Christmas traditions
My father the teacher and red all over. I was speechless and blurted out, “How do I get a bike with this?” I was 10 or 12 years old. My He smiled and said, “Raise it, sell brothers and I wanted everything for Christmas. I had three brothers, it, and buy the bike you want so but I was only number three. I say bad. Of course, you may not want only number three because number that bike that bad.” “I do, I do,” I again blurted out. one holds a special place. Number two is next to number one and the “Dad, where will I keep it? We baby is the baby. Number three is don’t have a pig pen.” Another big smile. Dad said, the nothing child – that was me. Back to Christmas. Yes, more “Build one.” “We don’t have the lumber and I than anything I wanted a Schwinn bike. I saw it in a catalog. I want- don’t know how.” “I will help you and you can buy ed it as much as a young boy can want, and believe me, young boys the lumber.” “What with? I don’t have any can really want. I bugged my mom money.” and dad, night and day. Here came that smile again. “Pick My father worked, well, ran a road construction company. Yes, he up beer bottles. I will help you.” I was elated – a fun project and was boss. He was gone every week, I get to spend time with my dad. home on weekends. One Friday night just before for What a Christmas! But that bike will have to wait Christmas, Dad walked in with a big smile on his face reached inside for a while. Pick up beer bottles his coat and out came a beautiful we did. My father, with his typilittle pig – yes, a real live pig. He cal thoroughness, went somewhere reached out with those big hands and got boxes that held bottles, full of pig and said, “There’s your with little paper dividers that held each bottle. We filled each box after bike.” It was a registered pig called box until we had enough to buy the a Herford, just like the cow. Its lumber. markings were just the same as the My father was by my side all the cows. White face, white underbelly way. For him, that was not easy. By John Zentz Park Rapids
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He ran a company, had a farm, four boys and a wife. That Christmas present just kept growing, growing and growing and getting bigger and bigger. I was in the FFA program in school and that pig was my school project. I won several awards with her. One Saturday night, I said to my dad, “I been thinking if I bred that sow and sold her babies I could buy a lot of bikes.” My dad looked over his glasses, put his finger to his temple winked and softly said, “Now your thinking.” I said, “There’s a Herford boar about 10 miles away. A boy in my class has him and he said we could use him. The boar sure won’t mind. One problem: We don’t have a loading shoot. Boy, do we need one. She’s gotten big.” My dad smiled. “Build one.” I smiled and said, “Back to the beer bottles.” He said, “Yup, back to the beer bottles.” Through the years, I sold many pigs from that Christmas present and a lifelong lesson that has helped me through all my years. All this because my dad was a patient, kind and loving teacher.
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I relish some of our new traditions. About a week before Christmas last year, my kids looked at me and said, “Mom, we need a REAL Christmas tree.” We had not taken the time to put up a tree at all for a few years, let alone a real one. This got me thinking about starting new traditions, and I was delighted to oblige them. Without saying a word to the kids, I called mom and dad to ask if they still had an extra tree stand for a real tree. Not only did they have one, but after a little digging they found Grandma and Grandpa M’s old stand, that they passed on to me. The next day, I made some time to go look for the right tree. The look of joy on the faces of two teenagers when they saw the real Christmas tree being brought onto the porch was heartwarming. We will have real Christmas trees from now on kids, I promise. I miss some of our old traditions. As I think about Christmases gone by, I find myself wishing for some of those days back. I miss the people, sights, sounds and smells. I miss Christmas Eve dinner at our childhood home with Mom, Dad, “the boys,” Grandma and Grandpa M and Aunt Kaye. I miss chili and sweet rice at Grandma and Grandpa V’s farm on Christmas evening. I miss being surrounded by extended family and hearing Grandma scold Grandpa for his jokester ways. I miss the singing, stories and laughter that was associated with our much looked forward to “cousin time”. I relish some of our new traditions. When I got home from Mom and Dad’s on Christmas Eve night last year, I unloaded the opened gifts from the car, released the furry children from their crates and sent them outside. When we were all back in the house and ready to settle down for the night, I made a cup of tea and retrieved a new monogrammed ornament that I had received from my oldest brother and sister-in-law. I plugged in the lights on the real tree, hung the ornament, shut off the living room lights and sat down with my tea to relax
and give thanks for the many blessings in my life. I miss some of our old traditions. Shortly after Christmas last year, Mom and I were taking down the Christmas decorations at my childhood home. I took the lid off of a box, and lo, there was the beloved Christmas signature tablecloth. It has not been used for several years, and it made me tear up a bit as we spread it out and looked at signatures and dates. We laughed, looking at the obnoxiously large signatures of children just learning how to write, and cried, reminiscing about the people who are no longer with us. I mentioned to Mom and Dad that I think we should bring back that tradition, as we folded the tablecloth up and tucked it back in the box with the other holiday decorations. I am learning to embrace some of our new traditions. Christmas mornings have been met with egg bake, coffee and orange julius in the last couple years. It is simple, quick and everyone can eat together. Christmas morning is still met with breakfast and then the mad scramble to see what stockings are stuffed with, though the typical little toys of our youth are now replaced with fun and handy gadgets and trinkets and handiwork of much more sentimental value. Then comes the mass exodus to wherever we wish to make our next appearance. These days, the kids go one direction, and I go another. However, I will always miss some of our old traditions. Christmas will yet again, be very different this year. I will always be grateful for getting back in the car last year, against my initial judgment based on the weather, and going back to Grandma and Grandpa V’s to visit. While I don’t remember what the conversation entailed, I give thanks that I spent time with Grandma and Grandpa on their last earthly Christmas. The opportunities to spend time with loved ones are cherished, and even more so when those opportunities become memories. Gledelig jul og glade nytt år (in Norwegian) Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
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ChristmasSpecial
C6 Saturday, December 22, 2018
Park Rapids Enterprise
Christmas star shines bright
The gifts of Christmas By Dawn Buzay Nevis
The world is different at Christmas. For just a few moments, in its hurried and harried existence, it seems to quiet a little and responds to a call that is centuries old – like a fussy infant that longs to be held close and lullabied to sleep. I’ve noticed it more these past few weeks. Into a day filled with the craziness, a child came bearing gifts – well, a gift actually. It was a “random act of kindness,” she said. Like a living Advent calendar, their family had decided to do a random act of kindness each day leading up to Christmas. Ours was a little baggie filled with gold and colored foilwrapped goodies, a candy cane and a card. While the candies were nice, the look on the child’s face as she delivered it was priceless, and especially as she smiled. I overheard it in the invitation of a teenage waitress who comforted her friend, recently kicked out of home by her parent, offering her a place to stay and a meal paid for out of her own meager earnings. “Let me call my mom. It’s only a sofa, but you’ll be warm. C’mon, you need to eat something.” Everyone needs a place they can call home. It’s in the posters announcing a free Christmas meal, complete with “Larry’s special beans,” so everyone has a place at a table somewhere. No one should be alone at Christmas. There is something special about this season and the gifts it brings. The music is different, too. I’ve been catching snippets of it as I go – songs on the radio, songs in the stores, songs sung by carolers and choirs, songs played on band instruments and songs sung by children. There is music everywhere – even in the loneliest of places. There is something about it that lifts the heart. I’ve witnessed it firsthand when the kids from a local church program ventured into a care facility with their handmade cards and ornaments to sing. The songs were simple and so were the cards, but there was a warmth that flowed between generations, even into lives that weren’t normally connected. Those kids certainly looked angelic, even though the wings seemed to have been traded for jackets and snow pants. And, the music was
beautiful. The season wraps itself in light. As if the stars shining in clear, winter skies weren’t enough, there are lights twinkling everywhere – the tree lit up in the middle of town, trees and decorations twinkling out of living room windows, entire yard displays with nativities, reindeer, dancing snowmen, santas and wisemen – all mingling for a bit of good cheer. Light invading the darkness. The mail is filled with cards – messages that reach across time and distance to reconnect and resurrect friendships and family. I feel it in the mother-son time that means so much to me, a bonding that far exceeds life challenges and promises the start of new traditions and new adventures together, a new sense of family. It is there in the promise of an unconditional love that will heal and restore past brokenness, and the hopefulness of a future. The gifts of Christmas are many. Like that call of long ago, they beckon all to come to Bethlehem, to experience the love of a Father who “cared enough to send the very best” in order for His family to be able to come home for Christmas – an eternal Christmas, not just a few days in December. The same Father who wanted to be “God with us” so we didn’t have to be alone at Christmas or any other day. It is in the whispers of an invitation, “Come, it’s only a stable, but you’ll be welcome there.”
I spent many years feeling sorry for myself. Everyone was nice to me, but I just didn’t fit in. They are stars; I am a star, but I was so different. Even the planets were kind to me, but I didn’t fit in with them, either. It was crazy to feel so lost and alone in the middle of such a huge display of God’ beautiful creation. Then one night I sud-
denly started to shine bright. I could not hold in the joy. The more joy I felt, the brighter I became. I saw a group of Magi traveling from the East and I heard them ask, “Where is the one who has been born King of the Jews? We saw His star in the east and have come to worship Him.” They said “His” star and they were pointing to me! I was the guide for the
Magi to find baby Jesus, King of the Jews, the Savior of the world. The most important two days of my life: The day I was born and the day I found out why. Now my purpose has passed, for Jesus is our bright shining star. Follow Him! When you feel lonely, useless or like you don’t fit in because you are different, be patient, have faith, trust God. He has a
plan for your life, a good and perfect plan. He made you different on purpose. Shine like the stars in the universe, experience and share the Good News of peace, joy and love of our awesome God. Celebrate John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave His one and only Son. That whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” Merry Christmas!
Bobby got socks for Christmas By The Riverside Readers at Riverside United Methodist Church Park Rapids Jimmy shouted, “I got a pocket knife. What did you get. Bobby?” Bobby replied with a look of disappointment, “a pair of socks again this year.” So, it went all throughout the 1950s at our annual family Christmas gathering and gift exchange. In 1950, there were 36 of us in the family – grandpa, grandma, 14 uncles and aunts and 20 cousins. Too many to be able to give Christmas presents to everyone, so grandma, as the “boss,” made a decision. At the Thanksgiving get-together, we’d draw names and when we all got together for Christmas, we would exchange gifts. Grandmas set the amount at no more than $5 per gift. That was a lot of money for us in those days. When the family Thanksgiving dinner time came, all of us kids were excited. The adults not so much, especially Uncle Doyle. All we ever heard him talk about was how bad he had it during the Depression. He would say, “When I was a kid, all I ever got for Christmas was a couple pieces of hard candy.”
Grandma had all of our names on a separate slip of paper and placed in an old coffee can. She explained the rules, looked steely eyed at us kids and then had everyone come up to her chair and draw a name. She had told us to look at the name, to be sure we had not drawn our own name, put it back if we did and draw again. Most of all, we were not to tell anyone the name we’d drawn. Grandma was not the forgiving type, so everyone took her seriously. That first year I drew Aunt Kathy’s name. I knew immediately what I wanted to get her. She loved scarves and I had seen some when my mother had taken me to the JCPenney store in October. Now I just had to figure out how to get mom to take me back to the store without telling her whose name I had picked. No easy task. Things have a way of working out and mom took my brother, sister and myself shopping with her in early December. Dad had given me the $5 to buy the present without asking whose name I’d drawn, and I had $3.75 saved from my weekly allowance. With mom trying to keep up with the other kids, I selected a
blue scarf, paid the $6.36, asked for a box to put it in and headed back across the store. I think mom knew what I had done, but she never said a word. The Sunday before Christmas finally arrived and everyone met at noon at Uncle Bill’s General Store. That was the only place large enough to accommodate all of us. Grandma had fixed a ham and turkey. Everyone brought side dishes and, of course, the presents. Uncle Bill had set up a Christmas tree and decorated the store for the holidays. Some had brought in chairs and tables, along with a record player to play Christmas music. Grandma didn’t allow drinking, so there was never any liquor. After dinner and the dishes were cleaned up, grandma knew all the kids were excited and ready to
exchange and open presents. That first year, I was so excited – more so to see the reaction on Aunt Kathy’s face than for whatever gift I might receive. Grandma gave the word. Grandpa went over to the Christmas tree and began handing out the gifts. Once all the presents were handed out, grandma said we could open them. I waited as I wanted to see how Aunt Kathy reacted. Sure enough, she smiled, looked in my direction and softly said, “Thank you.” Uncle Doyle had gotten my name and he had made a hand-tooled leather belt with my name on it. I thanked him proudly and wore it the rest of the day. All in all it was a good day, everyone thanked grandma for coming up with the idea and told her we looked forward to doing it again next Christmas.
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constellation or a shooting star (here today – in heaven tomorrow.) I have asked God many times, “What’s my purpose? Why can’t I be like the others, be a part of the Big Dipper family or shine bright like the North Star?” Every time I got the same answer, “Be patient, have faith, trust me. I have a plan, a great plan for you.”
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were our only chance to have a Christmas. We all stood close together by the door and watched dad, that sleigh and the horse slowly fade out of sight into the misty snow. I was blessed with three brothers. Well, I think I was blessed. We all stood there wondering, as children often do. Will we ever see our dad again? An empty hole slowly crept into my stomach, then it all went away and I went back to being a boy, which is a full-time job. We had no TV, no cell phones or iPads, so as boys, we had to find things to do – the old-fashioned way. I called our farm “a rock farm” (we had more rocks than crops). My dad would pick the rocks up and put them on a sleigh called a go-devil and pile them in big piles. In those rocks lived critters, some of those critters were skunks. Making a long story short, being boys, we showed up in the front yard with a skunk in each hand, holding each one by the tail. My mother almost passed out!!! We dropped the skunks at my mother’s command. She striped us, buried our clothes and scrubbed us down with tomato juice – homemade, of course. We were not allowed in the
house for a week. Back to my father on that horrible trip. We expected him back the next day, Christmas Eve. The day came and passed and no dad. Early the
next morning, I jumped out bed. I heard my dad’s voice. My dad is home! All my brothers were running and stumbling all over each other trying to get to the kitchen. After
hugging my dad to death, we were so glad to see him. There, in the middle of the kitchen floor, was a magnificent crate of oranges. That may not sound like much to you,
but to us it was the feast of a lifetime. My brothers and I were enjoying our fabulous Christmas. My mother looked up at my dad. Yes, she was setting on the floor with us.
“Set down here and have an orange. You earned it.” My dad just stood there. It seemed like a long time, then he softly said, “I will stand in line for my kids, but I won’t it.”
Coco’s Dog Food Corporation Christmas Special By Natasha Carlson Nevis
All Coco ever wanted is for Tickers to forgive her. While Coco is sitting in her misery. Tickers has the whole gang together to get Coco back for all that she did. They hop in the car and they should make it on Christmas. Coco has a big celebration for this year. She invited a lot of people. She invited Rosie, Snowy, Sofie, Jack, Hugo, Teady E. Bear, Latasha, Kurtz, Veronica, Valentine, Anthony and Kitty. Most of them were going to be able to make it. So, she
had to prepare a big meal. She had almost forgotten all about getting the supplies to make it, plus presents. What’s a boxer-human-drama-queen-princess to do? Luckily, Latasha and Veronica had already got them now. All she needs to do is get presents. She got Latasha “Just Dance 2019,” Anthony a police car, Valentine a Marshall paw patrol mask, Veronica a new outfit for work, and the rest dog bones and treats, plus a fish in case Tickers comes. Good thing
she was getting paid. Now she went home and wrapped it all. Tomorrow was Christmas and she had to be ready. So, she got up early to cook the big meal and Tickers was at her door. Coco was so happy to see her that she fell over in joy. Coco showed her to the living room. Tickers was so shocked that she froze and did not move at all. Coco brought her some snacks that she could eat. Finally, Ticker said, “I forgive you, Coco.” Coco sat next to her and said, “Thank you. After all of
these years of fighting, you finally forgave me. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.” After everyone else arrived they had their feast that Coco prepared and then played games. After super they opened presents. Coco got a brand new tiara and skirt and bow from Tickers, a wig from Latasha and makeup from Veronica. Anthony and Valentine got Coco new brushes. This was the best Christmas that had ever happened to Coco.
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Coco was so excited for Christmas this year. Tickers and the Coco Dog Food Corporation (CDFC) were holding a truce this year. So, that meant Tickers and Coco could live their Christmas the way they wanted to without either of them having to worry about either one of them attacking one another. Tickers, on the other hand, hated Christmas and it was her plan to attack the CDFC. Even though she vowed not to, she thought it would be a good plan anyway. What she did not know is that Coco was already awaiting her arrival because she knew she could not be for real that it was too good to be true. Coco has invited Tickers
over for Christmas multiple times and asked for a truce at Christmas multiple times. Every time, Ticker’s rely was “Bah, humbug, I hate Christmas” or “Why would I want to hang with you?” You catch my drift. So, Coco stopped asking but still waits for her – just in case that there is a slight chance that she has changed her mind. This whole war was started because Coco accidentally hit Ticker’s fiancé with her car and became so popular that the whole community liked Coco more than Tickers. They liked Coco so much that they through Tickers out of France because she attacked Coco. She’s been mad at Coco ever since. That all started the war jealousy and accidents.
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RUDOLPH From Page C1
to the rabbit, who was still standing between her feet. “Oh, my word,” said Dr. Chu. “Why aren’t you just the image of a snowy day. I didn’t know you had a rabbit, Lisa.” “I don’t. This one just followed me home.” “Well, then I’d say you’ve made a friend. They’re wonderful pets.” “It’s not a pet. It just followed me from outside.” “I’m assuming you’re here because you know I’m a retired veterinarian?”
Lisa nodded. “Then take my word for it. This is a pet. European rabbits were bred for domestication and are a separate species from American rabbits. Lots of people think it’s okay to ‘set a pet rabbit free’ outside because they see wild rabbits and think they’re the same. They’re not. Letting a domesticated rabbit loose outside is a lot like leaving your cocker spaniel in the park and saying it will be alright because it
will join a wolf pack.” “So he was definitely someone’s pet?” “Absolutely. This fellow’s coloring makes him a dead give away to predators. He won’t last long when the snow melts.” “That’s awful.” “That’s nature.” “Isn’t there anything we can do for him?” “I go back to visit my relatives in China too often to have a pet, but what about you?” “I thought they weren’t
allowed in this building.” “Technically, the rule is ‘no free-range pets.’ If they’re in a cage, then the theory is that they won’t destroy the place.” “What about when he goes to the bathroom?” “He’s probably litter-trained just like a cat. He’s obviously friendly, too. They can be as much fun to play with as a puppy, as long as you’re gentle. I’ll make sure he goes to a shelter after the holiday if you don’t want him.”
“Are they really as much fun as a puppy?” “Oh, I think so. They have their own personalities like dogs or cats. This one has obviously decided that you’re a friend.” Lisa looked down at the ball of fluff at her feet and stared into its beady eyes. Okay, Santa, she thought, I can take a hint. She picked up the rabbit, careful to support his back feet, per Dr. Chu’s instructions. “How about if I call you Rudolph?”
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“please help me give my kids a good Christmas. They deserve it.” She was startled by a movement under a snow covered bush and instinctively backed up toward the building. After a moment, a white rabbit hopped out, shook himself off and came to sit directly in front of her. “Hi, there. I haven’t seen you before.” Completely unperturbed by her presence, he stood up on his hind legs and proceeded to clean his face and ears. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” She watched him for another few minutes. “Okay, I have to go inside now. Shoo! Go away!” She clapped her hands. The rabbit stood up on his hind legs and looked at her expectantly. He made no move to run away. Figuring that he would never follow her, she opened the door to the building. He darted in and seemed to wait for her in the hall. This is by far the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me, she thought as the rabbit followed her toward her apartment. What if he followed her inside and then pooped everywhere? She went to her neighbor’s door instead. The rabbit followed. She knocked on the door quickly, before she could change her mind. After a moment of rustling, an elderly woman in a bathrobe answered. “Hi, Dr. Chu, sorry to bother you so late at night on Christmas Eve. I have a problem and I don’t know what to do.” She pointed
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am amazed at the strength they possess to carry on, now when the memories of her loss must be flooding back. Why me, Lord? This month marks the third year of the loss of a young male family member in an accident, leaving a loving wife and two young sons. How hard for them to have the father and husband who was so central in their lives gone, in just a moment. A man whose heart was always on someone else and how he could help. He would often call me during my journey just to see how I was doing. He had the desire to spread the gospel in his own gentle, compassionate way. Why me, Lord? I recently found out that a woman I’ve known for years was diagnosed her third time with cancer. Very discouraging for her and her family. She has fought so courageously in the past. This time, it is not so easy. A wonderful woman who has several young grandchildren to love and cherish. Why me, Lord? And the baby who has been fighting cancer for several months now. A baby. Why would a baby have cancer? And what is that road ahead going to be like for her? And the parents – how heartbreaking to hold that little girl and wonder if she’ll ever go to school or have a boyfriend or get married. All the dreams we have for our children. Why me, Lord? Why am I so blessed to be cancer-free? Questions I cannot answer. My faith has taught me that Someone much wiser than me rules this world and I must bow to Him. He’s seen everything from the beginning of time and He knows the end. For now, I must take the time to enjoy my grandchildren, my children, a wonderful husband, families on both sides and friends galore plus a 91-year-old mother who loves to have me visit. I have a job that I love. A little farm my husband and I enjoy working together at and doing whatever else brings us joy. We have learned to be thankful in all things. I know that cancer may very well knock upon my door again. It often comes around and around and around. So for now I will continue on in my faith that God knows the answer to the question “why me?”
The gift of Saint Nick By Vincent Anania Park Rapids It was two weeks from Christmas Day, and the local toy shop was full of kids and their parents looking for gifts and to sit on Santa’s knee. Santa Claus himself was there, with his white beard and his jolly laugh, taking each of the children one at a time. In line to see ol’ Saint Nick was eight-year-old Billy Jordan and his mom, Patty. As the two of them stood waiting patiently in line to see Santa, Patty watched her soon to see if there was anything that he may have seemed interested in that sat upon the displays or shelves. Even though they had been waiting for more than 20 minutes, Billy’s gaze never wavered from the knee of Claus, which she thought strange. Finally, around 10 minutes later, it was Billy’s turn to have Santa’s ear. Santa lifted him up and asked, “Oh, hello, dear boy! Now what is it that you would like to see under your tree for Christmas this year?” Billy smiled, believing this was his chance. He said, “I want my big brother, please.” Santa leaned back, puzzled at this request, but as he looked up at Patty, he could see tears in her eyes. She leaned over and whispered, “His brother, Harry, is in the military, stationed overseas. Billy wants to see his brother for Christmas.” Santa smiled, fighting back tears as he said to the smiling boy, “Let me see just what I can do for you, shall I?” Billy nodded and hopped off, and taking his mother’s hand, walked out of the store. Later, shortly after the store had closed, Leo Taylor stood in the back, undressing from his Santa Claus costume. As he took his fake beard off, he could still see the face of Billy Jordan, hopeful and smiling for a gift that would never come and it broke his old heart. He grabbed his keys off the counter as the store’s owner said, “See you tomorrow, Leo?”
He nodded, replying, “You got it, Joe.” He walked out to the snowy parking lot, hopped into his beat up, old, green truck and headed off toward his house. All the way home, he thought of how the young boy’s mother had cried when she had realized that her son had no desire for worldly possessions. As he pulled into his driveway, Mrs. Taylor, known as Mrs. Claus by their friends, watched from the window to make sure everything was okay. Leo walked up to his front door to be welcomed by his wife into his warm and inviting house. She had already prepared dinner, and as they sat down to say grace, Leo added a silent prayer for Billy Jordan and his brother. Later that night, Leo’s wife asked about the children because she liked to hear the stories of what they were into these days. But instead of his usual regaling her with his tales, he simply told her a few and shuffled off to bed. As he sat on the side of the bed and pulled off his socks, he took a look at all of his personal photos on the table next to the bed, where one of them caught his eye.
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It was a picture of him and his uncle, who had been a commander in the Army and still was – maybe, just maybe.… Leo grabbed his phone off the shelf and made a personal call to his uncle’s number at the military base in Turkey. After explaining the situation and calling in an old favor, Leo closed his phone with a grin on his face, a grin that hadn’t seen light in a very long time. Jordan’s house, Christmas Day Billy woke up on Christmas morning and rubbed his eyes, just to gasp at the electric calendar, which said it was Dec. 25. He jumped out of bed and ran down the stairs, stopping at the top to gaze over the tree and presents. And his brother, Harry, having coffee with his parents. “Brother!” he squealed, running into the living room and throwing his arms around his big brother, who grinned and hugged him back before saying, “Hey, bud, how’s it going?” As they separated, Harry leaned down and said, “You know, I missed you, bud. But thanks to your old buddy Santa Claus, I made it just in time!”
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ChristmasSpecial
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Park Rapids Enterprise
A second chance Christmas The Christmas story By Kimberly Villalva Dayton, Ohio
Jason jumped into his filing project just as he had been doing for the past two weeks at Art House. I’m here to make sure that you don’t make another mistake. Don’t let me down. Margie’s words from his first day still stung. He realized Margie hadn’t come out of her office to look over his shoulder or to peer closely at his eyes to see if she could tell that he was using again. He knocked on her door and found her staring out the window. The office was drafty so he pulled the curtains closed to try to lessen the chill on her. “I finished the filing. What else do I have to do today?” “Nothing. You can leave early if you want.” “I can’t drive while I’m in recovery and my mom won’t be here for another hour so I might as well do something. You don’t want me getting back into trouble, do you?” Margie looked at him. “If that’s what you want to do, Jason, I’m not going to stop you. Art House is struggling to keep its doors open, and I don’t have time to worry about some kid who’s willing to throw his whole life away just to feel good.” “You think that’s why I did what I did? Just to feel good? You don’t know anything about me.” He stormed back to the hallway. “You never told me why you started using.” He turned to face her. “Why should I? You’re just like everyone else. You heard ‘drugs’ and treated me differently from day one here.” “I’d really like to know how
Maybe we both needed a second chance this Christmas. There’s no better gift we can give another than to see them through eyes that are open to possibilities rather than judgments. a kid like you can find himself losing his football scholarship and working in this program over Christmas break.” She pulled a sweater from the back of her chair and tossed it around her shoulders. “I never wanted to get into drugs. But last season I dislocated my shoulder, had surgery, the whole thing. The pain didn’t let up and I had to get back to practice or I’d lose my spot on the team.” Jason shifted uneasily. “When my doc wouldn’t give me pain meds any more, I found ways to get them from friends whose parents had them. A few months ago, I went in for detox and counselling. And they sent me to work here to distract me from thinking about getting drugs since I still have some pain.” Margie stared at him. “I didn’t realize, Jason, and I’m sorry. How about we keep you busy with planning our annual Christmas party.” “Just to keep me out of trouble?” “Not just that. You have a creative eye, I’ve seen it.” When day of the Christmas party arrived, Art House was bursting with families making holiday art projects togeth-
er. Jason was refilling one of the paint colors when Margie motioned him to her office. “Can you explain this to me?” She pointed towards her window, newly sealed and now keeping the room much warmer than it had been. “I came in with another volunteer to fix it this past weekend. You do a lot of good here and shouldn’t have to freeze while you help others.” “Jason, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. And this party. You did more for those families than I ever thought you could.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, “I’m ashamed at how I treated you. Your addiction isn’t something that defines you or your abilities. You came here ready to work and I made things difficult. Give me another chance to be the kind of trusting and encouraging supervisor you need,” Margie said. “Me give you a second chance? You gave me the chance to really connect with those families. Planning this party and spending time with them has opened my eyes to how I had been treating them differently, even though we shared so many similar struggles.” Margie laughed. “Maybe we both needed a second chance this Christmas. There’s no better gift we can give another than to see them through eyes that are open to possibilities rather than judgments.” “You’ve given me the chance to help them see possibilities, too. That’s the best gift I could have gotten this Christmas, Margie, and I don’t plan to waste it. Could I, uh, work next semester too?” Margie nodded. “Every one of us is a masterpiece, we just have to allow love to come through.”
By April Snook Menahga A week before Christmas, a little girl moved into a apartment. She was so scared to move in because she thought that Santa would not be able to bring her presents. On Christmas morning, the girl got up before the sun even came up and there under the tree was a huge pile of gifts. The girl ran to her mum’s and dad’s room to tell them the good news.
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FOOD & PHARMACY
child care center
OPEN 6AM-11PM 7 DAYS A WEEK
all age groups accepted including before and after-school programs 501 henrietta ave. S., Park rapids • 237-4321
TRUCKING Inc.
218-237-0037
WWW.COBORNS.COM
732-0182
SEBEKA OFFICE: 218-837-5171 PO Box 311 • 115 Minnesota Ave. W.
Located at the corner of Hwy. 71 & Hwy. 34 in Park Rapids 732-9957
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BETTIN
209 West 1st., Park Rapids
www.communityfirstbankmn.com
MENAHGA OFFICE: 218-564-4171 PO Box 250 • 21 Main St. N.E.
From Hwy. 34, N. 1.5 miles on Co. Rd. 4, Park Rapids • 732-3119 • arkanimalhospitalpr.com
Briar Patch Corner
12411 US Hwy. 71 Menahga, Mn 56464
Mia Hay Long, DVM Megan Larson , DVM
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“Where care and learning meet”
“Skills That Heal and Hearts That Care!”
OPEN 7 DAYS A WEEK
802 1st St. East (Hwy 34 E). Park Rapids, MN (218)732-4513
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208 S. Main Street, Park Rapids
NEW OWNERS
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732-4426
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RE-DISCOVER
Wellness plans for pets of all ages. Stray cat packages.
as elg
of Park Rapids • Superior Sewing & Embroidery • Thelen’s Excavating & Septic, Inc. • Thielen Motors, Inc. • True North Mechanical, LLC Heating & Cooling • Ulvin Plumbing & HVAC • Walmart Park Rapids Supercenter • Warren’s Tire & Auto of Park Rapids • Zappy’s Café Akeley • A
Firs
le ke
ChristmasSpecial
Peace on Earth
Park Rapids Avionics • Park Rapids Floral • Peabody Chiropractic, LLC • RD Ofutt Farms • Sherry Safratowich Sewing & Alterations • Sk
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t Bank Menahga/Sebeka • Hansen’s Electric, Inc. • Harvala Appliance • Kountry Tile & Stone • Lamb Weston/RDO Frozen • Laporte Grocery & Meats • Leading Edge Mechanical • Main Street Meats • McDonalds • New Life Community Church • North Star Nursing • Park Rapids Aviatio
God Bless the World
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Park Rapids Enterprise Saturday, December 22, 2018 C11
y United Methodist Church • Autocraft • Avenson Electric • Cease Family Funeral Home • Citizens National Bank • Coborn’s • Community
ChristmasSpecial
C12 Saturday, December 22, 2018
Park Rapids Enterprise
Season’s Greetings As we gather in warm, festive homes to celebrate this special time of year, we would like to thank all of the men and women who are serving our country in the Armed Forces this holiday season away from home. It is with deep respect and admiration that we honor and thank you for your valor and service to our country. We appreciate the great sacrifices you choose to make for our freedom. We would like to wish you and your families the very best during this holiday season and all throughout the year!
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! www.parkrapidselectric.com
RANDY AVENSON
Licensed • Bonded & Insured
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1401 E. 1st Street (Hwy. 34 E.), Park Rapids
TRUCKING Inc.
732-3451
Steffes Off-Peak Heating Systems
SEBEKA OFFICE: 218-837-5171 PO Box 311 • 115 Minnesota Ave. W.
Hansen ’s ELECTRIC, INC. 218-732-3818
• Residential • Commercial • Farm 001807746r1
Licensed, Bonded, Insured • MN Lic. #EA006419 • Lance Hansen • lancehansen@live.com
• Heavy Duty and Super Duty • Car Haulers • Golf Carts • Utility • ATV • Garden Tractor • Motorcycles • Horsetrailers • Stock Trailers
REGULAR 7:00PM
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BACKHOE PETE “Have Tractor Will Travel” Septic • Sewer • Water • Lot Clearing Basements & General Excavating
FREE Estimates
Licensed • Bonded • Insured
218-237-0037
FOOD & PHARMACY OPEN 6AM-11PM 7 DAYS A WEEK
Charitable Gambling BINGO Thurs. Night License #A00220-001 Hwy. 34 E., Park Rapids • 732-5238 EARLY BIRD 6:30PM
Call Dave (218) 732-8889 OR (218) 255-1215 (cell) 001651692r1
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12411 US Hwy. 71 Menahga, Mn 56464
www.communityfirstbankmn.com MENAHGA OFFICE: 218-564-4171 PO Box 250 • 21 Main St. N.E.
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BETTIN
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SALES & SERVICE
American Legion Club
218-732-9157 PARK RAPIDS, MN 54670
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218-252-9350
OTTO HENDRICKSON POST 212
“Proudly Veteran Owned”
209 West 1st., Park Rapids WWW.COBORNS.COM
732-0182
Gary’s Trailerers sales
Parts & Accessories 12 mi. north on Hwy. 71 to Two Inlets Rd, then 7 mi. west
cnbbank.com
732-3941 • 800-630-8638
218.732.3393
CUMBER
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Custom Trail eds Built To Suit Your Ne
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MN Lic. EA700072
AVENSON ELECTRIC
Darrell and Evan Corbin Owners/Operators 218-639-1591 or 218-639-2811 dhcorbin61@yahoo.com
Quality Black Dirt, Earth Moving, Sand & Gravel
Construction Inc. County Road 4
732-5154
Park Rapids, MN
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Mon.-Fri. 7:30am 8pm
(218)224-2202
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1307 1ST ST. E. PARK RAPIDS, MN • 218-732-4465
Marchell Electric, Inc. Quality Work • 24-Hour Service 001662602r1
• Dual Fuel • Electric Heating
A STEFFES ELECTRIC STORAGE HEAT DEALER
1-1/2 mi. N. of Park Rapids on Hwy. 71 Call Mike at 218-732-8862
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Larry’s
P.O. Box 192; Park Rapids, MN 218-732-3377 or 1-888-713-3377
Hydraulic Hose
HYDRAULIC HOSES FROM 3/16” TO 4”
622 23rd St. NW, Bemidji, MN • 218-759-9686 Larry’s Machine Shop • Larry Raddatz - Owner
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Kari Wiese & Andria Nordick
www.itasca-mantrap.com
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Downtown Laporte
Sat. & Sun. 8am - 8pm
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Independent Agents
732-4241 • 1-866-722-5205
218-751-3847
1303 S. Park Ave. • insurez@unitelc.com • northwayinsuranceparkrapids.com
WARREN’S TIRE & AUTO
Bemidji
Cabin Opening And Closing
218-732-0026
PO BOX 730 • PARK RAPIDS, MN
Tim Ulvin
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Licensed, Bonded, Insured
Mon-Fri 8am-5pm
218-732-1389
Park Rapids, MN
Hauling Refrigerated & Frozen Foods
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218.237.7600
We Service All Makes & Models Trailers, Cars, Trucks, Vans, SUV’s, Diesels
From Oil Changes to Engine Installs, We Do It All! Master Technicians
Hwy. 34 West - Park Rapids
Certified Service
(218)732-3347 or 800-457-2438 Hwy. 34 E., Park Rapids
Try a Faster Speed Today!
Announcing the all new 1 Gigabit Fiber Optic Internet. That’s 1000 Mbps....100x FASTER than regular broadband.
That’s the Giglife. www.wcta.net/giglife
800-945-2163 | 218-837-5151 | www.wcta.net
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License# PM63832
www.thielenmotors.com
serving the area since 1976
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www.ulvinplumbing.com
Total car care
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801 S. Park Ave. (S. Hwy. 71) • 732-1431
COMMERCIAL, RESIDENTIAL, REMODELING
807 1st St. East • Park Rapids, MN 56470
218-732-4274
218-751-4023