Year End Review (or is it Rear End View?)

Photo credit: Heather Cowper

Photo credit: Heather Cowper

The end of the year calls for a review of the second year of this blog. Since last April, when I did my rather tardy year-end review for 2013, the number of my followers and views has grown, which is heartening. It’s always nice to know that the effort is worth it. Marie’s Meanderings received 3,000 views in 2014 (out of a total of 5,100 views), and has 126 followers.

I continue to receive the most feedback by sharing my blog stories with my Facebook friends. Between them and my followers, each story has the potential to reach almost 300 people.

The most popular post that I wrote since April was my social commentary on our local Christmas City of the North Parade. The story was shared among several of my Facebook friends who perhaps feel the same way – that sending our kids parading down the street in the dead of winter is a form of socially sanctioned child abuse. (Smirk.) And I can’t forget to say it was mentioned by fellow blogger Colette on her blog, WriterInSoul. Her humor is even quirkier than mine. I especially enjoy her “Things Men Have Said to Me” postings. Check it out!

Next comes “Why I am a Zumba Failure,” perhaps because there are many others out there who do not like to gyrate their hips in public.

Finally, is “The Planet Where They Don’t Give Christmas Presents” poem. My guess is its popularity has to do with the appeal of mild profanity among my Facebook friends.

But (or I should say, Butt) the most amusing aspect of my blog continues to be the international appeal and usefulness of the image that conveys the message “don’t flush toilet paper down the toilet.” It accompanied a post about my temporary roommate who had an obsession with toilet paper. That’s why I’ve chosen the image to decorate this post. It has received 69 clicks and downloads this year from many a country that must have sub-standard plumbing, including: Greece, the United Arab Emirates, India, Turkey, Romania, Pakistan, Cambodia, Kuwait, Malaysia, and the Philippines. I am proud that my blog serves such a purpose to the world, and hope to continue to be similarly useful in 2015.

Thank you, my friends, for reading!

If You Build a Seventy-Foot-Tall Hunk of Ice, Will They Come?

Photo by Josh Parsons

Photo by Josh Parsons

So this winter, as a tourist attraction, someone wants to create a seven-million-pound, seventy-foot-tall block of ice right near the building where I work. What could possibly go wrong?

Said person is Roger Hanson, a computer software developer who hails from Big Lake, Minn. He’s been forming huge hunks of ice in his back yard since 2007.

Perhaps hearing that we were nervous, Roger recently came to our office bearing donuts and information. He said he started his hobby because he’s a hoarder. He has a geothermal heating system at his house that creates wastewater. He didn’t want to just dump the water into the river that runs nearby, so he got the idea of using his computer and technical skills to build an ice formation with it. He’s built some impressive ones that have garnered local and national media attention.

He uses a computer-controlled robotic water sprayer and metal cables to create the structures. And like any good hoarder, his piles of ice keep getting bigger every year. I think he reached 64 feet last year.

This year, he’s moving outside of his back yard for the first time, onto Barker’s Island in Superior, Wis. The island is man-made, composed of sand and soil dredged from the harbor in the late 1800s. The City of Superior, inspired by the unprecedented popularity of the natural ice caves at the Apostle Islands in Lake Superior last year, thinks Roger’s artificial ice formation will make a good tourist attraction. Roger explained that he wasn’t the city’s first choice – they wanted an ice castle builder instead. But those folks had scheduling conflicts. The city has committed Roger to a three-year, $135,000 contract and is advertising for vendors to provide hot chocolate and the like for the masses it hopes the ice will draw.

One of Roger's previous creations by his house.

One of Roger’s previous creations by his house. Photo by Roger Hanson

Roger plans to build his largest formation yet at ninety feet wide and seventy feet tall. Already, he’s learning things and overcoming obstacles. For this endeavor, which he calls the Lake Superior Ice Project, Roger is pumping water out of the Superior Harbor. Although he thought he’d only have to lay one hundred fifty feet of tubing, he laid two hundred fifty feet out into the harbor in order to reach an eight-foot depth of water to be safe from a deep freeze. In the process, he ended up tripping on the tubing and got the cold shock of a dunk in the harbor.

He’s spent the past month setting up. Now the wind and the weather just need to cooperate. He explained that he designed the computer system for the prevailing wind direction for this area. Darn wind has been blowing from elsewhere, and the air temperatures have been too warm for him to begin spraying water for ice.

Roger also mentioned he dropped one of the seismic sensors he brought along that helps him predict when the structure will break up in the spring. He described how huge chunks of ice fall off the formation when it starts to melt. The stress on the structure can be measured with seismic sensors, and when the time between fractures starts getting too short (like labor contractions), Roger knows the thing’s going to blow – something very useful when there may be onlookers who need to be moved away for safety. But never fear, Roger was able to fix the sensor with some ingenuity and PVC pipe.

What the ice formation on Barker's Island looks like now (because the weather is not cooperating).

What the ice formation on Barker’s Island looks like now (because the weather is not cooperating).

If nature cooperates, he hopes to have the formation built by mid-February. He will light it up at night and give periodic tours. The city has a traffic flow plan in place. And although the city is spending thousands of dollars on this project, a city staffer who visited us admitted they have no advertising budget. As was the case with the Apostle Islands ice caves, the city hopes that social and news media will do the advertising for them. Also, the ice formation will be visible from a nearby highway and the city hopes that people driving by will see it and be drawn to it.

So we have a new location, finicky weather, seven million pounds of pressure atop a sandy island, no ad budget, huge blocks of ice calving off the formation, and massive amounts of meltwater come spring: what could possibly go wrong? Nothing, I hope, but stay tuned . . . .

Two Poets in the Cereal Aisle

Image from Pulpconnection.

Image from Pulpconnection.

I attended a reading last night by Duluth’s Poet Laureate Jim Johnson. (Yes, Duluth sports its own official poet.) Superior writer Tony Bukoski also read from his essays. It was hosted by Holy Cow Press – a local publisher that’s been in business for 37 years. Both Jim and Tony write from their ethnic roots (Finnish and Polish, respectively), providing for many laughs and some sighs. Topics included accordions, cows, gravel roads, railroads, and tractors. No saunas, though. Maybe next time.

The reading inspired me to uncover a poem that’s been incubating within me for several years. The reading must have made me think about local poets. Hot off the brain press – enjoy!

Two Poets in the Cereal Aisle

He stands, head bowed toward boxes
on the Captain Crunch shelf.
Bearded and barrel-chested,
if Hemingway had been a poet,
this is him.
The local Old Man and the Sea
is in my grocery store.

I slide over
pushing my cart softly, carefully.
Not wanting to disturb.
Will I see in his next book
a poem about golden wheat?
About waves and ships?
Short men in blue uniforms with
shiny gold buttons, and wearing
large hats?

Eyes still closed,
he reaches out his hand,
steadies himself against the shelf —
inspiration rocking and
pulling him
away from shore.

©2014 Marie Zhuikov

I had the privilege of spending some time on Lake Huron not long ago. After spending five days in meetings, my co-workers and I were primed to run amok along the shore at Tawas Point State Park in Michigan. The deserted lighthouse was decorated for Christmas — we felt like it was waiting just for us!

Tawas Point State Park Lighthouse, MI.

Tawas Point State Park Lighthouse, MI.

Here’s my favorite view:

DSC01907

I guess it makes sense to keep the flammable oil for the lighthouse light in a separate building:

The oil building.

The oil building.

Happy holidays, everyone!

Lake Huron imitates an infinity pool.

Lake Huron in December.

Lake Huron

Challenge: Describe Your Community in One Word

Duluth city lights as seen from the water at night.

Duluth city lights as seen from the water at night.

In a short chapter in Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love, (Chapter 33) Gilbert and her friend discuss how every city and its inhabitants can be defined in a single word, and that each community is different. For instance, their word for New York City was ACHIEVE. Their word for Stockholm, Sweden, was CONFORM. For Naples, Italy, it was FIGHT.

During a lunch outing a few years ago, my girlfriend and I decided that the word REMOTE fit our city of Duluth, Minn., not only for geography but for the people. Duluth is often the butt of jokes from the rest of civilization as being at the end of the world. This since it is so far north, and it serves as the end of the line (or beginning?) for highways, railroads, and shipping routes. If traveling north, we are a last bastion of goods and services before one reaches our friends in Canada.

As for the people, although we are “Minnesota Nice,” we can be hard to get to know. Some of us have lived here for several generations and we have our own cliques – like in the state of Maine, there are those from “here” and those from “away.” And you’re not really from “here” unless your grandparents were born here.

The harshness of the long winter can also make Duluthians seem remote – it’s too damn cold to shoot the breeze when you meet someone on the sidewalk, or we’re too tired from shoveling snow to have energy to socialize. It can take time for new residents to break through and find connections.

Imagine my interest when I saw an article, “Remote Minnesota: Where is the most far-away spot in Minnesota?” in the latest Minnesota Conservation Volunteer magazine (produced by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources). The author describes his quest to find the most remote and primitive spots in the state. He defined remote as a place farthest from any type of road, including Forest Service roads and private driveways.

Of course, with so many roads and driveways, it wasn’t Duluth. With the help of a Geographic Information System specialist, the author finds the spot on the shores of Knife Lake in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness in northern Minnesota — twelve miles from a road.

The most primitive spot in the state is the bog country north of Red Lake. The author and his wife visited both places and described their experience. They found these wild spots “places where our imaginations can simmer.”

Now that the most-remote place in the state is official and it’s not Duluth, maybe I should change the defining word for the city. Also, several years have passed since my girlfriend and I defined it, and in the meantime, Duluth has earned national accolades, such as “Best Outdoors City” to live in. Not to mention all the microbreweries popping up everywhere. Perhaps we are getting too hip for REMOTE.

Duluthians, what do you think our defining word should be now? Readers outside of Duluth, what word would you use to define your community? I’d be interested to hear!

The Christmas City of the North Parade: Socially Sanctioned Child Abuse or Festive Community Event?

Huddled masses watch the Christmas City of the North Parade.

Huddled masses watch the Christmas City of the North Parade.

It only took me fifty years to figure out how to stay warm while watching Duluth’s local winter parade in person. One could watch it on the television and stay warm, but that doesn’t count. I needed to watch the parade in-person because my son was marching in it for the first time as part of the high school band. This Northland rite of passage requires parental attendance. I did so for my oldest son, thus for my youngest, too.

It’s almost always below freezing for the parade, which challenges both marchers and spectators. I marched in the parade myself for at least four years for various school bands, and due to this, have little love for it. I recall the numbness of cold appendages, frozen valves on my French horn (which my boyfriend thought could be solved by pushing down hard on all the keys, thus breaking the strings and rendering the instrument tuneless) miserable school bus rides to and from the staging area, and the pain of thawing fingers and toes. (This was before the time of hand warmers.)

But we band rats didn’t have it as bad as the cheerleaders. Back then, before someone got wise and invented flesh-colored thermal tights, they danced in short skirts and skimpy nylons. I am half serious when I say that I thought then and still think now that the Christmas City of the North Parade, far from being an event that brings the community together, is just a case of socially sanctioned child abuse.

Truly, most of the participants are children — from dance schools, high schools, and community groups. Only in Duluth does it seem like a good idea to make our progeny travel a mile-and-a-half down a frozen road, performing for our amusement and joy. Even the television anchors from the station sponsoring the event stay indoors now, much to the disgust of the hardy spectators.

Pleasant parade memories aside, this year, I did it right. The parade route changed so that it passed several eating establishments. I met some friends (thanks Charlotte and Katie!) at an arts café over an hour before the parade began. That way there was still plenty of parking (found a nearby free spot on my first try) and ample time to eat before the parade. I had eaten at home, so I just drank some wine.

Wine! Silly me. Why had I never thought of combining alcohol with parade watching before? The beverage filled me with warmth and goodwill toward this thinly veiled community child abuse event.

Our kids are in there somewhere . . . .

Our kids are in there somewhere . . . .

When the parade started, we stood outside on the curb, waving to the passing floats, facing the cold wind blowing down the street. When we got chilled, we went inside the café lobby and watched the event on television and through the café windows, which fronted the street. All of us had sons in the same band, so once we saw the band approaching on the television, we worked our way to the curb to see it pass by in person, and to wave vigorously to our sons.

Then I headed for my car. Why stay and watch the whole event if I didn’t have to? As I passed the café windows, I noticed an empty table in a prime parade viewing spot. I thought, “Next year, that’s where I will sit.” Although my son will be in the parade then, too, since his maiden voyage is over, I can get by with even more comfortable viewing arrangements in the future. Just look for me and my friends at the center table, sipping our wine and staying warm, while the rest of the world marches by.

Yooper Duane

My friend Duane.

My friend Duane

My meanderings last week took me Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, also known as “da UP.” Residents of the U.P. are affectionately known as Yoopers, and I visited a long-time Yooper friend, Duane.

Duane and I met thirty years ago on Isle Royale National Park (abbreviated in Park Service talk as ISRO). The island is one of the most isolated national parks in the country – only accessible by boat or sea plane. Duane was a carpenter for the park service and we became friends over coffee and doughnuts in the snack bar when I was a waitress on ISRO.

I’ve kept in touch with only a few people from my time on the island. Even Duane and I had long stretches where we lost track of each other. I managed to track him down a few years ago when I knew I’d be driving by his town for a book tour.

During my trip last week, we only had time for lunch. I wish our visit was longer, but I had to press home to a long list of responsibilities. But the time we were able to spend was vintage Yooper. Duane took me to Buck’s Café in downtown Ishpeming, and he wore the requisite Yooper regalia (see photo).

I expected to reach home by nightfall, but car issues forced an overnight stay at the edge of Yooperland (the MI/WI border). I found a mom and pop hotel complete with mouse droppings on the bedspread. But the mice stayed hidden, I slept well, and was able to successfully continue my journey home the next day.

Anyway, I just wanted to say thanks for the short taste of Yooper heaven, Duane!

Something Pumpkin-y This Way Comes

A river of jack-o-lanterns on the grounds of Glensheen Mansion in Duluth, MN.

A river of jack-o-lanterns on the grounds of Glensheen Mansion in Duluth, MN.

Dozens of volunteers carve what must be hundreds of pumpkins that decorate the grounds of a local mansion on the shores of Lake Superior that is open for public tours. I checked it out last night and brought my camera along. Happy Halloween!

Glensheen Mansion.

Glensheen Mansion.

 

An eerie blue light illuminates the room where the murder of the last owner occurred in the mansion.

An eerie blue light illuminates the room where the murder occurred of the last owner of the mansion.

 

I don't think this was part of the  tour, but I thought it was spooky: looking into a tunnel that runs under the road. Who is the bench for?

I don’t think this was part of the tour, but I thought it was spooky: looking into a tunnel that runs under the road. Who is that bench for?

Ghosts making s'mores.

Ghosts making s’mores.

The Book Signing and the Viola Player

This weekend I had my first book-signing events in the metropolises of Minneapolis and Maple Grove, Minn. One was a reading at a small indie bookstore; the other was a signing event with a bunch of other authors at a big box chain bookstore.

Moon Palace Books in south Minneapolis.

Moon Palace Books in south Minneapolis.

I did the indie bookstore reading first, at Moon Palace Books in south Minneapolis. The audience was intimate and mostly genetically related to myself. (Grin.) But it was fun and I sold a few books. The owner was wonderful and, with thirty bookcases that were only two years old, the place smelled good — like freshly cut lumber.

We were just wrapping up when the Viola Player arrived. Or rather, she swooped in. Judy with the Duluth-Superior Symphony Orchestra (DSSO), is not the type to enter any other way. I experienced her vivaciousness first-hand when I had lunch with her as research for my novel “Plover Landing.” A viola player figures prominently in the story, but I needed to learn more about the life of this type of musician. I brought my plight to the DSSO and they hooked me up with Judy.

I chose the instrument because it’s the one I would have wanted to play if I hadn’t already been a French horn player in the high school band. I just love how it sounds, and the introvert in me loves how it’s a background instrument. From Judy, I learned about the underdog, scrappy culture of violists.

Judy, the vivacious violist.

Judy, the vivacious violist.

I didn’t know she was planning on attending my reading, so her swooping entrance was a surprise. A nice one, however! She even had her viola strapped to her back, and with little coaxing, treated us to several tunes. That’s one reading I won’t soon forget, and I’m sure the bookstore owners will remember it, too.

The big box chain bookstore event was a bust. Hardly anyone attended. If it had been my only event, I would have driven home in the dark of night feeling like the five-hour round trip was not worth it. I learned two lessons from this experience that I would like to share, especially with new authors who are responsible for their own marketing:

  1. If you’re traveling more than an hour or two from home, try to have more than one signing event scheduled to hedge your bets on feeling successful. In other words: Don’t put your book signing eggs all in one basket.
  2. The book signing ain’t over until the viola lady plays!