A news reporter wearing colors that Marie approves of. Although they do clash a bit with the news van. Photo by cottonbro studio on Pexels.com.
As I walked down a long hallway in my local medical clinic, I analyzed the gaits of my fellow patients walking before me. “That person is walking on their instep. They need arch supports,” I thought. “That person is knock-kneed. I don’t know what they need, but they need something, or they will be facing problems later.”
Sometimes, I suspect I should have been a podiatrist or a psychiatrist in another life. I seem to have this talent for gait analysis and knowing what might help. But I am a science writer/podcaster/photographer by day and a novelist blogger by night. What do I know?
My other secret talent is as a fashion consultant to local television reporters. As I watch the local TV news almost every night, I think, “Why is that person wearing such dull colors, they’re obviously a “winter” in the color scheme! They need jewel tones. Look at that man’s suit sleeves! His arms have grown about four inches and he needs a new suit!”
These talents are a both a blessing and a curse. They’re not the kind of things one can just go and approach people about, unbidden. I would be laughed at, or worse, for offering such medical and fashion advice.
I guess I’ll just need to keep my thoughts to myself or risk another person’s ire. If I had my life to do over, perhaps I’d go to medical school or become a media fashion consultant.
When I was in the process proofreading my blog memoir, “Meander North,” before publication, I found myself laughing. “Hey, this book is pretty good,” I thought. “Who wrote it?”
Reading my book was like having an out-of-body experience. Finding pleasure in what I wrote was a good thing but it’s not a very Minnesota thing. We’re not supposed to think we’re that special! Well, it’s too late. I really did like what I wrote. That doesn’t happen often.
My book with its silver award seal.
I suspect most writers will agree there are several distinct and disparate phases they go through in completing a work. When you complete that first draft, you’re so relieved! You think it’s God’s gift to humankind. Then your writing group or beta readers get ahold of it and you begin to see its flaws. You fix those but by that time, you’re able to distance yourself from it enough that you see even more flaws. You hate the work. It’s awful. It should never see the light of day! There’s so much that needs fixing.
Some writers never get past this point. But if you take it slow, chunk by chunk, and are kind to yourself, and you remember what you were trying to say with your work, you can come out on the other side. You might even like it in the end – enough to think that maybe somebody else wrote it.
I recently attended the Midwest Book Awards Gala, held in Minneapolis for finalists in their awards program. It’s put on by the Midwest Independent Publishers Association, which serves indie publishers in 12 states. This year, the contest attracted 227 books from 122 publishers. “Meander North” was one of them. It ended up earning a silver award in the nature category.
Mary Ann Grossmann, keynote speaker.
The gala’s keynote speaker was Mary Ann Grossmann, retired book editor for the St. Paul Pioneer Press. She told tales from her long career, including when Pulitzer Prize-winning author Studs Terkel “kidnapped” her in his car because he wanted to keep talking, and when Grossmann convinced activist author Susan Sontag to go see the 5,000-pound boar at the Minnesota State Fair.
Grossmann’s main advice to authors was to “hire an editor!” In my case, I hired two of them, just to be sure. I was so close to the material that I felt like I was missing all the little nits that needed picking in the text.
At the end of the gala, authors were given the judges’ comments. I was heartened to see that they all thought the writing was very strong. The book was also judged on things like production quality and mechanics/organization. One judge said their favorite story was the one about the sensory deprivation tank. They said, “These essays are definitely something I would read again, and I intend on following this blog now, as well.” Thank you, whoever you are!
Another judge said they thought I had a “really appealing and charming voice, and I found the writing excellent.”
Do you see me over here, preening myself in a most non-Minnesotan way? Ha ha.
Cheri Johnson, who goes by the pen name Sigurd Brown, accepts her Midwest Book Award at the gala.
While at the gala, I got to meet some people from my past who turned into authors, one of them for the same publisher who produced my book (Nodin Press). I also met some people I have had interactions with online but had never seen in person. One of them was Sigurd Brown, the pen name for the author of the thriller, “The Girl in Duluth.” Her book won gold in its category. I have not read her book yet, but I have it on order.
She was nice enough to read “Meander North,” and she posted this review on Goodreads:
I enjoyed this book very much. Zhuikov’s personal stories of everyday life in northern Minnesota—which include subjects as varied as solving the mystery of headless rabbits on a trail near her house to her discovery, twenty-five years after the fact, that the UPS delivery driver at her new job is the boy she kissed in the coat room of her first-grade classroom—are both frank and charming, and in total they tell not only the story of a life but describe the fabric of a town (the port city of Duluth on Lake Superior, where Zhuikov lives). This is a friendly and calming book, with a narrator who is pleasant to spend time with. Reading one or two of the short essays that make up the book every night before bed, I often had the feeling that I was out on my porch in the evening, exchanging a few words with the neighbor I’m always glad to run into. The writing is also very nice; her sentences are as neat and luminous as pearls. The book is a silver winner of a 2023 Midwest Book Award and I can see why.
The gala audience.
I reread, “Her sentences are as neat and luminous as pearls,” several times. That’s what having two editors will do. Lord knows I don’t have that many editors for my blog! (From which the stories are derived.) Needless to say, I’m feeling a bit of pressure to write a similar glowing review of her book. But I’m sure that won’t be hard since it’s a gold winner already.
“Meander North” was also recently featured on the National Science Writers Association website. They offer a column that describes new books written by association members, and they were good enough to list mine, even though it’s been out for a while. Although my book is mostly personal reflections, there is some overlap with my day job as a science writer, so those things are highlighted in the column.
There, enough bragging. In ending, I’d like to point out that I probably never would have had enough content for a book based on this blog without the feedback and continued readership over the years from all my blogger buddies. So, you can consider this your accomplishment, as well. Thank you!!
Marguerite and her brother (my father) on the Minnesota-Canada border, 1936.
A few weeks ago, I had the chance to speak with my Aunt Marguerite over the phone. She was in a hospital in Minneapolis and it was pretty clear she was dying. She’d gone in for a urinary tract infection, which should be easy enough to treat, but she wasn’t doing well. After a few days, she was on hospice care.
My cousin Priscilla was with her and said that Marguerite got a big smile on her face when she heard it was me on the phone. My aunt and I exchanged hellos. I said I hoped she felt better soon. I think we both understood that could be taken several ways. Then we said goodbye. Those were the last words she spoke. She died peacefully two days later with Priscilla at her side.
Although I live 150 miles away, the morning Marguerite died, I felt it as did one of my other relatives. We had a connection to this woman, my father’s sister and the last of her generation. I’m not sure how to explain the feeling except that it’s one of absence. A grand and stubborn spirit is gone from this world, into the next.
Russ and I felt lucky to have seen Marguerite in person a couple of weeks before when we made a trip to St. Paul. We felt like we said our goodbyes to her then.
Like me, my aunt loved meandering around. She attended at least 28 Elderhostels (when they still used to be called that) all over the world. If she had a blog, I bet she would have named it “Marguerite’s Meanderings!” We also both played the French horn in school. When I chose it, I did not know that she had played it, too. I just liked the mellow sound of it.
Marguerite never married and had no children of her own, but one special thing she did was take each of her nieces and nephews on a trip. My outing with her was in the 1970s in her Volkswagon camper van she nicknamed Pokey. We camped along Lake Superior’s North Shore. One destination I particularly recall was Finland. I was confused about how we could go there because I thought Finland was a country overseas, but I soon discovered that Minnesota had its own small town by that same name.
She was also very generous with her home. In 2005, when I was commuting to Minneapolis for graduate school, she let me stay overnight at her place on a regular basis. Money was tight for my family at this time, so I was thankful for this free lodging, plus I got to know her better.
I seem to be the family obituary writer, so that has been my contribution so far to all the tasks that need completing when someone dies. You can find Marguerite’s here.
As people like to say, she lived a good long life, but that doesn’t make her passing any easier.
Last week, I gave a presentation about blogging for my local writers’ group. It was a first for me, so I needed to research the topic. Thankfully, there’s a lot of info out there about blogging, much of it from Word Press. I thought I’d share some of what I learned with you since I am now this font of knowledge.
There are 600 million blogs out there in the world. This is so many that they make up one-third of the web!
Most people read blogs to learn something new.
80% of new blogs last only for 18 months. Most quit after 3 years.
22% of Word Press bloggers write once per week. 2% post daily.
Word Press is the most popular blogging platform, hosting 43% of blogs.
The highest recorded salary for a blogger in the U.S. in 2022 was $104,000.
It takes an average of 20 months to start making money with a blog, but 27% of bloggers start earning money within 6 months and 38% are making a full-time income within 2 years.
Posts that have “how-to” or “guide” in their titles are the most popular in general. (I am testing this with the title of this post!)
Images are helpful in garnering interest. Post with up to 7 images get 116% more organic traffic compared to posts with no images.
In 2021, the average length of a blog post was 1,416 words.
The average blog post length has increased 57% since 2014.
The trend is for increasing word count for posts. Posts with over 3,000 words get 138% more visitors than posts with fewer than 500 words.
Do any of these stats surprise you? I’m surprised by the trend toward longer posts, but perhaps that makes sense because there more words and more topics for search engines to find. But I would think that people don’t have that much time to read. Maybe they find the posts but don’t read all of them?
Okay, now I need to find an image for this post. And I should probably make it longer, but I am out of time!
An angry raccoon. This image is from a Fox News story about a Florida couple who thought they were attacked by a bobcat, but after DNA analysis, it turned out to be a raccoon.
In his “Recollections of L. E. Potter,” my great-grandfather Laforest, who was a young settler in Minnesota tells a cute story that I didn’t have time to include in an earlier post about him.
The year was 1865. The family of 12 had moved from Wisconsin to Minnesota, settling for a time on the banks of the Watonwan River a few miles south of Madelia. One spring day, Laforest’s father John was mowing hay with a scythe about 80 rods from the house they were renting. Laforest writes (edited for clarity):
*
I was sent to take him a drink of water, also a watermelon. We got our water from a spring on the riverbank back from the house. I took my pail and melon to the top of the bank or bluff, laid the melon down by the side of the path and went down the path through the brush after the water. When coming back up the bluff, I heard something going through the bushes straight down to the river. This was rather startling to an eight-year-old.
Laforest Potterin his later years.
When I got to the top of the bluff and my melon was gone, boy-fashion, I did not stop to reason, but let my imagination run wild. I thought some animal had carried it off and that was what I heard going through the bushes.
I took the water to father and told him about the melon and the animal that carried it off. The more I talked about it, the better my imagination worked until I could tell what the animal looked like – what color he was, bigger than a dog. In my mind it was something terrible!
Father asked what I thought it was. I couldn’t tell him. So, he said he thought it must be a Racorebob.
Father told folks about my Racorebob for years after. Whenever my imagination would get the best of reason, I was reminded about my Racorebob. I believe it has always had a good effect on my life.
Father found the melon at the foot of the bluff, smashed against a tree. Somehow, it had started rolling down the bluff and that was what I heard.
*
(Marie here – I’m not sure what the word amalgam Racorebob means. Laforest never explained it, but my guess would be a “raccoon or bobcat?” Any other interpretations are welcome!)
When Russ and I travel, we usually do many “outward-looking” things like hiking, biking, seeing the sights, etc. For our recent trip to Arizona, we decided to go on a more inward adventure. We contacted a local psychic for past life regression sessions.
I’ve never shopped for a psychic before, but I figured the internet was a good start. A search of psychics in the Prescott area came up with three hits. The one that looked the most legit to me was “Psychic Readings by Deva.” Deva does readings by appointment only. She lives in a lovely home on the outskirts of Prescott.
We corresponded by email to set up the appointment. That went fine, except on my end. I was so distracted by dealing with the details of our impending trip that I sent Deva the incorrect dates of our visit. I thought I was setting our sessions up for the end of February and she thought they were going to be at the end of March!
When we showed up a month early, of course, she wasn’t home. Her husband was, though, and we were able to set up a session with Deva for the following day. Deva was very accommodating about this and I am forever grateful. I’m usually not such a scatterbrain. Was I unconsciously trying to sabotage the experience? Only Carl Jung can answer that!! (Get it? The famous Swiss psychoanalyst? Anyway…)
Besides past life regressions, Deva does tarot card readings, hypnosis, and energy work. She’s originally from Germany and has an accent that fits a session on a couch, which is where we laid during our separate hour-long regressions in her basement.
But first, while we were still sitting upright, Deva asked why we wanted the sessions. We basically just said we wanted a different vacation experience. Deva explained that in past lives, we could be different genders and races. There could be some violence involved since human history is so full of wars and conflict.
Russ went on the couch first while I waited upstairs, reading a book.
I was looking forward to the experience. I can’t say that I’m a true “believer” in past lives, but I am open and curious. I was bummed when I feared I had messed up our opportunity with the date snafu and was so glad that it worked out, after all.
A past-life regression is definitely not something I would have ever considered doing at home, where life is so busy. However, years ago, I bumped into a group past life session that was going on once down the hall from a meeting I had in the same building. A bunch of handouts entitled, “Tips for a Group-Guided Past Life Regression Experience” lay on a table, beckoning me. I picked one up.
One of the tips was to ignore your critical thinking so you can be fully present in the experience. This is very hard for me because I’m judgmental and critical by nature. Another was to trust that the information that drops into your mind during the regression is exactly what you’re supposed to see, even if it feels like you’re making it up.
When it was my turn, Deva spent about 20 minutes of the session on relaxation – taking me from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. Then came some imagery work that prepared me for exploring my past life/lives.
I ended up describing three lives. I really did feel like I was just making it all up, but thanks to that handy stolen tip sheet, I realized that was okay. I was male in two of the past lives, and female in one. One of the lives had a lot of violence and loss, but the other two were rather tame, except for a prairie fire and an absent husband.
In each life, I learned a lesson. None of the lessons were things that particularly resonated with me currently, and I didn’t really see anyone in my past lives that is in my current life. But I did end the session with a deep feeling of loss. Tears welled into my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. Deva found some tissues for me. 😊
I felt like I’d been through a ringer afterwards. It felt like one of those vacation experiences I often tend to get myself into — like a trail that’s way more difficult than the guidebook described.
On our way back to our hotel afterwards, Russ and I exchanged notes. He explored one life during his session. It seemed like it was in greater detail than my lives. But there were many similarities in it to the life of mine that had a lot of violence and loss. We were even the same ethnicity, although we were in different time periods. The lessons learned in these separate lives were eerily the same.
The session helped me understand some of my passions and dislikes and why I seem to have lost my green thumb.
In summary, Deva was great. The experience was unique, but if you do a past life regression, don’t expect a flippant jaunt down a flat trail, even if the guidebook classifies it as “easy.”
It took longer than the 16 months predicted to get my Invisaligns off (see My Mouth is Full of Plastic), but I am happy to say they’re gone now. That only took 23 months of my life.
If you have a superb memory, you may recall that I found in my late 50s I was having a hard time chewing food with my back teeth. My front teeth were doing more work than they were supposed to, which led to chipping and general stress on them.
After a rocky start, I was fitted with plastic aligners. I was so relieved not to have to wear metal braces. I dutifully followed all the instructions and kept my orthodontist appointments. I saw improvement right away. However, gradually, I noticed I couldn’t bite off things like noodles and pizza crusts with my front teeth.
By the end of the two years, my problem had reversed itself. Instead of not being able to chew with my back teeth, that’s all I could chew with now. My front teeth weren’t working properly.
Of course, I relayed these concerns along the way to my orthodontic technician, who assured me that the fine-tuning by the last batch of aligners would take care of it. They didn’t.
You’d think, with all the computer-assisted measuring they do of your teeth during the process of fitting aligners, that things like this wouldn’t happen. I asked my orthodontist why, and he said something about jawbone structure and this and that.
To help my front teeth meet like they’re supposed to, he would need to shave off thin bits from my back teeth. I was not too thrilled about this, but he assured me the shavings were only the thickness of a fingernail and that it wouldn’t impact any of the fillings I have back there. If he didn’t do this, I would need to wear yet more aligners for more months.
At this point, I was willing to do just about anything to get my teeth free from all this plastic. I knew I’d have to wear a retainer afterward, but assumed that would only be at night, similar to my sons’ experiences with braces.
So, after much grinding and then additional grinding to take the aligner anchors off the rest of my mouth, my teeth are now free!!! They felt great and I could bite stuff with my front teeth!
I had a few minutes to rejoice before the hammer dropped.
The technician informed me I was going to be fitted for a plastic retainer (which looks much like a set of Invisaligns). This, I expected. What I didn’t expect was that I was going to have to wear it DAY and night for three months.
Alas, my mouth remains full of plastic. I gained freedom, but not all that much.
I once planted poems throughout my town (Duluth, MN) when I contributed to a Local Free Poetry project. Our poet laureate at the time scattered hard copies of poems by local poets in area businesses. I submitted four poems. One of them was entitled, “Perfunctory Kisses.” The short (8-line) poem detailed how I dislike kisses that don’t mean anything. I might want to publish it somewhere in the future, so I won’t share the whole thing here, but just let me say that the first line is: Perfunctory kisses suck.
I know, not exactly subtle, but I like my poetry to be accessible. 😊
Last summer, I received an email through my author website from a woman who lives in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. She said my poem captivated her when she found it. She used it as a reading at her recent wedding – her groom read it to her before they exchanged vows.
“Your short poem offered a sharp and punchy contrast to some of the more traditional readings of the ceremony,” she said. “We heard gasps of delight as the first line was read aloud. Let’s say, it was well received, as we knew it would be.” She ended with, “Thanks for your contribution to making our ceremony unique and memorable.”
Receiving her note made my day, my year! I’m tickled and honored that my poem landed on fertile ground and was used in such a personal way.
After my book launch this winter for “Meander North,” I heard from our friend, Sailor Dave, who connected with one of the stories I read about bunnies. Unlike with my poem, you can read this one because the book is made up from posts from this blog. (Seeing Rabbits) It explores the thought that rabbits might be guardians of our sleep.
Dave lives in a tiny house at a local marina. He said, “I wanted to tell you that I had a “pandemic bunny” living under my house last winter, too. When listening to Marie read the story, I was anticipating a dark turn, with Russ finding a great “New York Times” rabbit stew recipe that he was dying to try. Of course, it took a more spiritual turn and I found myself wondering if my rabbit would return. I did leave veggies out now and then. And there were baby bunnies in the spring. After our last snow, I spotted fresh bunny tracks around the house. My guardian bunny has returned! Probably under the house right now, waiting for me to go to sleep.”
Then there was a note I received through my website right after Christmas. A reader from Marshall, Minnesota, thanked me for writing my first novel, “Eye of the Wolf,” which deals with the wolves on Isle Royale National Park. He said it was, “An enjoyable foray into their lives and possibilities.”
Since my novel is rather old now (12 years), I asked him where he found it and he said it was in the library there. I let him know that there’s a sequel (“Plover Landing”), which he also ended up reading, and appreciated. I planted those copies in the town when I participated in a local arts board event years ago. So nice to learn they also found fertile ground!
I love these connections and I love it when readers take the time to send me their comments.
Russ and I were just listening to the latest episode of NPR’s “Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me” show. Author George Saunders (“Lincoln in the Bardo”) was on it. During his interview he offered this thought on how to define a literary work: “Anything that connects people in a way that’s deeper than the usual way – habitual way we connect. That can be seen as literature.”
I’d also posit that literature connects through space and time. The good books will resonate into the future and across geography. I’m not really saying that my writing is great literature, but I’m always trying and am heartened by these little successes.
I recently attended a Zoom meeting for work where the presenter was wearing a bow tie. His tie was full of bright colors in contrast to his dark shirt. The speaker was a professed bow tie-aficionado. His tie was fun to look at, but it was crooked. I kept mentally straightening it during his whole presentation. It was distracting.
This reminded me that every bow tie I have ever seen someone wear has been crooked, which reminded me of an idea I had in 2010 when I worked for Mayo Clinic Public Affairs (where many of the doctors are also bow tie-aficionados) for an addition to a tip sheet for television interviews. This was a one-pager that we had on hand to advise doctors who weren’t familiar with being interviewed. It contained tips like women not wearing long, dangly earrings because they are distracting. (Although I suppose this could also apply to men!)
If I had continued working at Mayo Clinic longer and gained more “street cred” in the organization, I would have advocated for adding to the tip sheet: “Don’t wear a bow tie.”
Before I list the reasons why, I want to say that I think bow ties are fine for everyday life. I realize they are a way for the wearer to express their individuality and quirkiness, and I’m all for that. They are also convenient in many professions, allowing for a fashion statement that doesn’t drag in your soup bowl like a long necktie would. Also, according to a story on the WHYY public television station, for doctors, bow ties are more hygienic, collecting less bacteria than neckties. But I just don’t think they work for television interviews.
Here’s my reasoning, as if speaking to the interviewee:
No matter how hard you try, your bow tie will be crooked, which is distracting and dilutes the verbal message you’re trying to convey.
Yes, bow ties make the wearer look smart, but they also alienate you from the viewing audience. Historically, bow ties have been a marker of privilege and conservatism. Think of who you are trying to reach with your television interview message. For most health information, I would wager you want the widest possible audience.
During media interviews, you are representing your organization. This is not a time to get all individualist and fancy. You can put your bowtie back on afterward.
Despite straightening beforehand, your bowtie WILL become crooked during the interview.
Your bowtie will run askew. (I cannot stress this enough.) 😊
There, I’ve been carrying that inside for a long time. I feel better now! Feel free to comment with dissenting opinions or agreements below.
Marie's Meanderings 