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Ten ways to beat the heat

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Ugh. It’s hot.

I’ll try to remind myself this weekend about how much I dislike winter — enduring practically frozen eye balls from walks in the bitter cold, chopping hard-packed snow at the end of my driveway and spending weekends cooped up at home during a snowstorm when all I wanted to do was roam.

I need to remind myself of those days to get through the scorching heat and humidity these days.

I’m a fair weather Minnesotan. My made-to-order day would be somewhere between 68 and 72 degrees with a gentle breeze. This year, those days have been few and far between.

What does one do when it is so miserably hot outside that you can fry an egg on your driveway in less than a minute?

Well, here’s my Top 10 list:

10. Actually try frying an egg on the driveway to see how long it will take. Then, so as not to waste the protein, leave it there to feed some poor, hungry feral cat roaming my neighborhood.

9. Rent a stack of movies from the local video store. Might I suggest Cool Runnings, New in Town or Grumpy Old Men — all flicks that feature the snow and cold we in Minnesota are forced to live with for about half of the year.

8. Make an ice cream cake … or root beer floats.

7. Read a book. Straying from my “keeping cool” theme, I’ll suggest reading Laura Hillenbrand’s “Unbroken,” which tells the true story of a World War II bombardier who survived a plane crash into the Pacific Ocean, floated at sea for more than 40 days and was captured by the Japanese and held prisoner until the war ended in 1945. I finished my copy last weekend, and it was an amazing story.

6. Lay on the couch with the fan blowing cool air from the air conditioner vents while multi-tasking by watching movies or reading a book.

5. Drink lots of water … and other liquids in moderation.

4. Dig out the blender (mine hasn’t been used since I moved to Worthington nearly eight years ago) and make shaved ice.

3. Dress in your coolest clothes and take a drive to one of the many community festivals in the area this weekend.

2. While you’re in your car — with the air conditioner cranked up as high as it will go, obviously — steer in the direction of Luverne. I’ll be there Saturday afternoon to help judge the barbecued rib cook-off fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity, and I’m a little nervous about the so-called “spicy” ribs I’ve been told a couple of the chefs are grilling.  I might need some moral support!

1. Only because it is my No. 1 priority this weekend: Spend some quality time in my basement, cleaning up the remnants of Mother Nature’s deluge. I’m thankful for risers and Shop Vacs and the invention of the broom. I’m also thankful I live in southwest Minnesota. For all of the snow and cold, heat and humidity we love to complain about, I think we all know it could be worse.

Farm visits and fish wishes

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By the time I’d started my fifth load of laundry on Saturday, I began to reflect on what led up to such a monumental pile of one person’s dirty clothes.

Three times last week I had to drive home in the middle of the day to change clothes — once in preparation for a walk through a field, once after walking through fields and getting my jeans caked in mud (no, I didn’t fall!), and once to change shoes and socks after sinking through a crust of manure-tinged soil.

Memories of all three of the excursions still bring a smile to my face — especially that last one. That was the day I left my boots in the hatchback and nearly lost a shoe on the Feikema farm north of Luverne. Cattle farmer Mike graciously smiled … there was no ridicule about wearing “girly shoes” on a farm in springtime, which I appreciated immensely!

In what had to be the best stretch of days all spring, I was glad to get away from behind my office desk and take off in my mobile office, equipped with Greta Garmin, a camera with two lenses, notebooks, pens and my cell phone.

The cell phone came in handy when Greta Garmin claimed 170th Street at Luverne didn’t exist. (I’d say something about technology here, but since the cell phone came to my rescue, I’d better not.)

It wasn’t the first time Greta failed me — and it probably won’t be the last.

Little more than a week ago, Greta tried to direct me and my carload of passengers into a lake somewhere outside of Park Rapids. Certainly, it wasn’t the address to the hostel at Itasca State Park, where our latest U-Lead Advisory Academy session was to be.

Greta wasn’t the only one leading members of our group astray. At least three other drivers of carpools were taken down the same beautiful back-country road. Somewhere, a GPS programmer is snickering, I’m sure.

Anyway, I haven’t had time to blog about my excursion with U-Lead to the headwaters of the Mississippi River — apparently because I’m too busy changing clothes and doing laundry!

The three-day adventure, our last lengthier U-Lead session, included two nights at the Headwaters Hostel in Itasca State Park, multiple leadership sessions at the Jacob Brower Visitor Center and a trip to the Red Lake Nation.

While I had visited Itasca State Park once before, the trip to Red Lake was a new adventure. We visited the town of Red Lake (home to the basketball team that has faced the maroon and gold of Ellsworth in state playoffs in recent years), and toured a wild rice packaging facility, spoke with community leaders about health and nutrition on the reservation, and visited the Red Lake Nation Fisheries.

The fisheries stop was my favorite. We saw hundreds of fish — perch, whitefish, walleye and northern pike — being filleted, packed in ice and prepped for shipping. It’s one of the largest industries on the reservation, with all of the fish netted from Lower Red Lake.

The daily catch for the fisheries averages about 4,000 perch, 2,000 walleye and 2,000 northern pike. Fishing on Lower Red Lake reopened two years ago after it had been closed for a decade.

As you can imagine, I was ogling the walleyes and wishing I could be so lucky as to catch just one this fishing season. That’s all I ask for — just one good keeper.

I wonder if Greta Garmin could help direct me to the appropriate lake … when I’m finished with my laundry.

You can’t take it with you

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Since my Grandma Elizabeth moved into a new, smaller apartment a couple of months ago, my mom has slowly been bringing home more and more of the items saved from a life long lived.

In one car load came 10 complete sets of embroidered dish towels – enough for each one of Grandma’s great-grandchildren on the Buntjer side – along with several small pieces of glassware and a pocket watch that once belonged to Grandpa. In all, Grandma had 31 completed sets of dish towels she’d embroidered – more than enough to distribute among all of her great-grandkids.

A framed hardanger piece I made several years ago was also brought home, along with the cross-stitched Footprints in the Sand piece I gave Grandma when she moved into Willmar from the farm a dozen years ago. Both have since found a place on my walls to enjoy.

Mom and I spent a couple of days with Grandma last weekend, reminiscing with her about the “good old days” as we sorted through three large boxes of family photographs. I finally saw a picture of my Great-Grandpa Miller – his wedding photo no less – and decided a couple of my Kohls cousins carried his resemblance.

On Sunday, Mom and her brothers divided up the images and carried them off to their own homes. We brought a box back with us, along with a bag filled with letters Grandma had saved from family and friends over the years.

Though Mom was determined to toss the letters, I was more reluctant. This is Grandma’s life … we just can’t toss these things away.

Then again, I’m not quite the saver my Grandma – or my mom – are, for that matter. I keep Christmas cards for one year. When Christmas rolls around, I pull my card holder out of the closet, empty its contents into the recycling bin and start my collection over.

Birthday cards have a much shorter life span in my house, though I’m pretty sure I’ve never tossed a thank-you note.

All of the purging of Grandma’s things has pushed my parents into a purging mode of their own. The day before I left on Honor Flight, they hauled a pick-up load of stuff into town that belonged to me … an entire pick-up load. By the time I met them at my house over my lunch hour, they had already unloaded everything – splitting up the items between my basement and living room. (I think they were afraid I wouldn’t let them unload some of the items!)

I had no time to sort through the mess before the trip, and for the week after I got back home, I was still too busy to deal with it. My house was an absolute disaster area and I got real tired of seeing bags of dolls, stepping around my Barbie Jeep (although I was glad to see it still existed!) and wondering what in the world to do with the 4-foot-tall metal child’s stove dropped off on my basement floor. More than likely they will all end up on a garage sale since I have no children of my own to pass them on to.

Aside from the dolls, stuffed animals, kitchen set and child’s dishes, my folks dropped off a bag filled with school papers Mom apparently couldn’t bear to part with.

There were writing tests (my teacher was quite the stickler for penmanship), spelling tests, math quizzes and just general school work. It was evident that at one time, my life revolved around Cs, Ss and Ns … commendable, satisfactory and non-satisfactory.

I haven’t found enough time to go through the whole stash yet, but you can imagine where those papers are going once I’ve finished looking through them. Yes, Mom will probably be disappointed that she hung onto them for 30-plus years, only to see me toss them into the recycling bin in one swift move.

While it was an easy decision to sell the toys and toss the papers, another “gift” the folks delivered that day was a baggie filled with all of the cards they received congratulating them on the arrival of their baby girl. Oh boy, now I’m in a quandary … do I keep them, or toss them.

Mom said I should keep them, considering I lost my baby book (Misplaced would be a better word, but until I dig through all my totes and tear the house apart, Mom will say I lost it.)

Alright, so I’ll hang onto the cards until I find the book. What good will it do anyway? Some day when I’m gone, some poor niece or nephew is going to look through it and toss it in the garbage and I won’t mind. Now, if one of my treasured, hand-stitched needlework pieces to be passed on to the kids ever ends up on a household sale, I might just roll over in my grave.

With Honor

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Awesome. Amazing. Wonderful. Outstanding.

I feel like I’ve been saying those words a lot these past few days as friends, family and co-workers have asked me about my travels with the World War II veterans last Friday and Saturday on Honor Flight Southwest Minnesota’s third flight.

To put into words what this trip has meant to them — and what it has meant to me to see it through their eyes — is difficult, even for a writer!

If I’m not getting goose bumps about the memories, I’m getting choked up because I miss the smiles, the hugs and the stories from my World War II heroes.

After returning from the inaugural flight a year ago, I called the experience the trip of a lifetime. Now I’m wondering if it’s OK for me to say I’ve had two trips of a lifetime.

Since returning from our journey, Aaron Hagen has been busy editing photos and my fingers have been tapping away at the keyboard, writing stories for our special 16-page, full-color Honor Flight edition that will be published with Saturday’s Daily Globe.

I’m excited for our readers to finally get a chance to learn more about some of the wonderful men and women who were our honored guests on this flight. The trip would not have been possible without the generosity of people across southwest Minnesota.

When you stand face to face with a veteran and see the tears in their eyes and the bounce in their step — all because of two full days of touring war memorials, getting countless hugs, handshakes and accolades — it makes any donation you can give to Honor Flight well worth it.

Even before the third flight became a reality, there was talk of possibly taking a fourth flight of World War II veterans out to Washington, D.C., to view their memorial.

At this time, it’s uncertain whether that will happen. In reality, we need to get more buy-in from communities outside of our immediate area to help sponsor veterans for the flight.

We also need to know if there are still World War II veterans here in southwest Minnesota and northwest Iowa who want to make the trip.

I know of at least two veterans — from communities just 20 minutes down the road — who are still hoping to go on Honor Flight.

I would encourage any World War II veteran who would be interested in experiencing your own “trip of a lifetime” to call and request an application or more information.

At the same time, any veteran who has a child, grandchild or other relative who wants to accompany them on the flight as a guardian, they need to get their name on the list. Approximately 50 guardians are needed for each flight, and the first to apply get first choice if and when a fourth flight is scheduled.

“You aren’t committing yourself by submitting an application,” said Jane Lanphere, Luverne Area Chamber director and coordinator of the Honor Flight applications for veterans and guardians. Jane is available to help answer your questions and send you an application. Just give her a call at (507) 283-4061.

The excitement, anticipation builds

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I had intended to write a few online blogs this week about my recent experiences in Washington, D.C., but aside from sharing a story and several photos of the cherry blossoms, I simply ran out of time and energy.

My sleep schedule is still out of whack, and I feel like a little old lady when I’ve crawled into bed by 8:30 p.m. a few days this week. On the flip side, I’m wide awake at 5:30 in the morning, and I’ve discovered I can be productive at that horrible hour despite sitting in front of my home computer in my PJ’s.

Now that you have a mental picture of my disheveled morning appearance, please erase it for your own well-being!

While I may get around to writing more about the D.C. experience sooner or later, I want to share with you my most treasured experience of the trip. It wasn’t even on our itinerary — it just presented itself out of the blue … at the airport, no less.

The 20-plus U-Lead participants had gathered at Gate 1 at Reagan National Airport for our Thursday morning departure last week when, over the loudspeaker, it was announced that an Honor Flight had just landed and a plane filled with World War II veterans was about to be unloaded at our gate.

I was so excited I hurried to a spot toward the front of the welcome line, and joined the “D.C. Honor Flight Crew” in cheering on the arrival of a group of men and women from the Appleton and Green Bay areas of Wisconsin.

At the sight of that first veteran coming off the jetway at Gate 1, I began to clap and the tears started to roll down my cheeks … it’s a woman thing!

One by one, the veterans — many of them with a look of disbelief on their faces — looked at the gathering of cheering people. Many of them smiled, some were moved to tears and others, well, I think they still may have been in a state of shock by the time they boarded their buses to depart on the trip to view their World War II Memorial.

I shook each veteran’s hand, thanked him or her for serving our country and gave into hugs for those men with their open arms. One man slipped in a kiss on my neck. If he did that to every woman who gave him a hug on his Honor Flight excursion, I would imagine he returned home as one happy man.

At one point during the welcome, a fellow U-Lead participant turned to me and asked why I wasn’t taking pictures. My response was quick … this is my vacation. On the inaugural flight, and on the third flight I’m traveling with in just two weeks, I’ll be so busy snapping photos and getting quotes that I won’t be able to simply enjoy the looks on the faces of the veterans as they are cheered, thanked and celebrated.

Daily Globe sports editor Aaron Hagen will be the official photographer on this next journey, and I will be toting a notebook, audio recorder, camera and laptop to chronicle the trip for the 110 World War II veterans we will travel with.

I have just two more veteran features to write before this next journey, and if the wit of some of the veterans I’ve interviewed thus far is any indication, I know we all will have a fabulous time.