Duluth reference in Sarah Cooper’s “Everything’s Fine”
Fourteen minutes into the Netflix comedy special, Aubrey Plaza, playing a shopping channel host, takes a call from a QAnon follower in Duluth who wants to know what her naan order really means.
Fourteen minutes into the Netflix comedy special, Aubrey Plaza, playing a shopping channel host, takes a call from a QAnon follower in Duluth who wants to know what her naan order really means.
Growing up in Alaska, the wild space around me was something invisible. I had no awareness that the world was something other than myself. My friends and I perambulated the wilderness with the careless disregard of youth, clambering to the peaks of 100-foot-high pine trees and swinging from the soft tops on dares.
There was a tree fort out in the woods that was 25 feet in the air — not even halfway up the tree. The way up was almost entirely crumbling chunks of boards nailed erratically into the trunk to form rungs. At the top, one had to stretch out and grab the floor of the fort and sort of clamber up over the lip of the platform. Conveniently, the platform was disintegrating, so the edge was rougher and shallower than it once had been, making it less a switchback climbing maneuver to swing to the platform than a lean of faith. I wonder if the kids who live in those houses now even know it’s there — some aeriform retreat hovering above the houses like a mossy cloud.
This wholesome little scene is circa a century ago. The postmark on the back appears to be Oct. 31, 1915, though the year is not easy to make out. The card was sent to Miss Gertrude Fischer of Chicago.
Printmaker Nan Onkka makes images inspired by scenes on the North Shore. She starts with a wood block, and step by step, removes material from the block in order to add more color to the images she prints. It’s a time consuming process, and she says it’s a lot of backward planning, but a process where you can’t step backward to change something. That challenge and risk is what draws her to the process.
NO: I am a printmaking artist who specializes in reductive woodblock printmaking. This form of printmaking involves hand carving an image into a woodblock and then printing it onto paper one layer of color at a time. I add multiple colors to the image by carving away more of the woodblock and printing the next layer of color on top.
Avesa Rockwell and Jeremy Kershaw have been consulted as experts on bicycling in Shape Magazine. Kershaw and Rockwell lead Heck of the North, a company that plans events for adventuresome bicyclists, such as Le Grand du Nord, Heck Bikepacking Race and Heck of the North.
This manipulated photo from the Detroit Publishing Company is filed by the Library of Congress as “Ship canal looking in, Duluth, Minn.,” and is roughly dated 1906. The summary of the item describes the manipulation:
Photo shows a ship with the words “North West. Northern Steamship Co.” The ship appears to be pasted into the canal scene, with hand-drawn smoke and mast — a composite photograph.
Four Minnesota Governors got together to encourage Minnesotans to set a good example and vote.
Because nothing says physical fitness like a box of stogies.
The Lighthouse at Lighthouse Bed and Breakfast in Two Harbors gets a little eerie on stormy days near Halloween.
In its series The Slice, WDSE-TV presents short “slices of life” that capture the events and experiences that bring people together and speak to what it means to live up north.
Postcard images of the St. Louis Hotel probably don’t do justice to its original splendor. The first of its two buildings went up in 1882 and was considered Duluth’s finest hotel. It was destroyed by fire on the morning of Jan. 13, 1893 and was replaced in 1895 by the Providence Building, which still stands at 332 W. Superior St.
The building shown in the postcard above was originally the Brighton Hotel, built next to the St. Louis in 1887. After the original St. Louis went up in smoke, the Brighton became the new St. Louis Hotel. The building was demolished in the early 1930s and replaced by the Medical Arts Building, which remains today at 324 W. Superior St.
Duluth musician and pilot Israel Malachi experimented this past spring with attaching a Go-Pro to the wing of his plane, flying over locations in Duluth and Superior. He also composed music to go with the videos. Above is his flight over Thomson Dam. Malachi’s other videos are on his Israelaeon YouTube channel.
Use the link below for a printable PDF for your puzzle solving pleasure.
Duluth You & Me: Lake Superior Word Find
Follow the Duluth You & Me subject tag to see additional pages. For background on the book see the original post on the topic.
Test your memory of October 2020 headlines with this edition of the PDD Quiz.
The next PDD quiz will focus on Superior’s Central High School; it will be published on Nov. 15. Submit question suggestions to Alison Moffat at [email protected] by Nov. 11.
Democracy has been a tricky thing these days. Used to be I would occasionally post on Facebook about my candidate of choice, proudly display a sign in my yard and make a fuss about donning my sticker on Election Day. Now, it’s fair to say, “it’s complicated.”
Not that I don’t have a candidate of choice — I do. But I’ve rather ghosted off social media where I’d display my virtual heart on my cyber sleeve. These days, I pop in just enough to spin my social plate as it bobbles on the stick of my outward-facing life. After a friend was criticized for being “too happy” in pictures with his young children during these troubled times, I found myself going dark, getting insular. That’s saying something for someone who wrote a memoir. I’m not sure I could write that book today. Actually, I’m sure I couldn’t.
However, there’s been some amazing shifts in my household. While typically forward-leaning me has reclined into quietude, my less demonstrative husband has found his voice. And it’s not an electronic one. Sickened by watching the political battle waged behind screens, he decided to literally “put himself out there,” standing at a popular Duluth intersection holding a political sign. With a small parcel of like-minded friends (which only occasionally includes me), he’s there, every day, for 30 days.
