After skiing the Lester, I was pretty cold and a little wet, but decided to go down and check the ice structures at Brighton Beach anyway. The few people there sat in their cars but I walked out and gave them something to look at — a guy walking around looking at the lake. Then I witnessed an improperly dressed dude walking his Labrador turn back abruptly to the safety of his car. Black Lab you ask? Hell no! The cold didn’t bother him one god damned second. He was living in the moment. Happy as can be.
On this chilly morn, the blue light of the moon reveals the carnage left on the battlefield of the War on Xmas. Last year’s Apple product, the old tube television, and mounds of torn wrapping paper clutter the otherwise barren landscape. Though the media pundit generals have refused to sign the Declaration of Armistice, the conflict is over. The body count was surprisingly low- a Christmas miracle, one might even say. According to official reports, there was only a single casualty. Ironically, it was a Salvation Army bell-ringer who was assaulted by a “true believer” who was so insulted by the charity worker’s exhortation of “Happy Holidays,” that they had no other choice but to punch them in the face. We can only pray that the Peace holds — and that cooler heads will prevail. In closing, let us wish a Happy Birthday to Albino Jesus.
A job opportunity is taking us to (much) warmer climes. We moved to Duluth in 2005, got engaged on the beach at 22nd, were married at the Beach House (while Beach House played in the background), and gave birth to a daughter who’s eyes are the color of Lake Superior. I’m glad she’ll be able to say she’s a native Duluthian.
Some things I’ll miss:
Crisp fall mornings
The greening of the landscape in May/June
The view from our front deck
The fog horn
We will miss our friends the most. And the delicious beer.
On this 10th anniversary of the first PDD post, I would like to thank the original members of Perfect Duluth Day who were there at the start, helping to transform this site from a mere idea to what it’s become today:
I was running the trail in Lower Chester this morning when I glimpsed something odd out of the corner of my eye . Looking down, I beheld this bewildering loose sprig laying right in the middle of the trail. Quite real, and I can’t even begin to explain it. But at this moment, in the latter half of April, as winter is pumping yet another shell into the chamber, I offer it that it might elicit the same emotion it stirred in me: hope.