Just got back from a private showing of the hottest movie in the country, “Star Trek Into Darkness.” Well, practically private. I think there were about three others at the Tuesday 1pm matinee at Century theaters East.   I know it’s typical for me to pee and moan about the movies I see; too expensive, too blaringly loud, too peppered with pointless profanity, or too far away from the toilet but none of that this time. Let’s talk about this movie in particular and why I was kind of disappointed in how it played too fast and loose with reality. Wait a minute, Lund, you’re watching a film about science fiction where humans and aliens hop around the universe at warp speed armed with phasers  and photon torpedoes..and you’re questioning the “reality” of it all? Now, before you trekkies write me off as someone who just “doesn’t get it” let me explain that, while I’ve never attended a Star Trek convention and don’t have even one piece of Star Trek memorabilia, I have seen every TV show and theatrical production of the franchise since it began in 1966. I’ve bought in to every one of them..save the last two. Now don’t get excited I’m not going to spoil anything if you haven’t seen it or comment beyond what you’ve already noted in the trailers. My beef, I guess, is that when the late Gene Roddenberry created Star Trek his ideas about zipping around the galaxies in a star ship..encountering strange new worlds, always seemed believable to me. It’s just that technology hadn’t yet caught up with his wonderful imagination.   What Roddenberry didn’t do was allow his human characters to somehow become super human which is what’s happened in the latest films. Kirk, Spock and Scotty leaping from dizzying heights onto moving platforms  a hundred yards below without so much as a bruise much less ending up in a crumpled heap of broken bones. Speaking of Bones, Dr. McCoy’s character has been annoyingly dumbed down in this installment and there are so many inside references to past and popular Star Trek stories that it’s like the crew stops and breaks character long enough to wink at the audience.

I haven’t  seen a movie in 3D since Avatar and, am still not sold on it. I’m not sure that having space junk appear to fly right over my head is enough to justify the extra cost or the murkiness of images on screen due to the special dark glasses you must wear for the desired effect.

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I was pleased that photographer, Paul Horsted, became a Facebook  friend of mine this week. I’ve long admired his talents..especially when he seeks out a location in the Black Hills where a picture was taken a century ago. He then shoots a new image and displays the two side by side revealing how much..or how little..the landscape has changed in the last one hundred years or so. He’s published several books that illustrate his technique.

Horsted was able to locate the exact spot where George Armstrong Custer posed with a bear he’d shot while exploring the Black Hills in 1874.

Check out his website. It is..as Spock would say, “fascinating.”  http://www.dakotaphoto.com/#/11

I thought of Paul today as I took a look out our French door to see green grass and lilacs in bloom..a far cry from a few short weeks ago when it sounded like the world was crashing down on us.

I was so proud of my Keloland colleagues who produced this week’s Keloland 60^th Anniversary Special. (Still available to see at Keloland.com) It was a terrific program and demonstrates that the TV station’s legacy is in good and caring hands. May Keloland and the talented crew who make our starship keep functioning on all thrusters, “Live long and prosper.”

It’s been interesting, this week, to see the cherry tree outside my window fill up with buds and birds, keeping a stiff upper limb pretending that last month’s devastating ice storm never happened. I made a rather feeble attempt to trim back some of the surviving branches to help it regain a sense of symmetry but, I’m afraid, it looks like a bad haircut that’s just going to have to grow out on its own. After a week that has gone from shivering cold to sweltering heat in a matter of hours, the dandelions have finally decided it was safe to come out and have been pushing their little yellow heads up from the dirt. They’re either really tough buggers this year or the weed killer I bought last summer has lost considerable potency because one spray ain’t cuttin’ it.

I’ve really been clomping down nostalgia lane lately as Keloland Television approaches its 60^th anniversary May 19^th.

My first shot at anchor in 1975 with Jim Burt, Steve Hemmingsen and Dave Dedrick.

I’ve done a couple interviews with Angela Kennecke recalling memories of my 32 years working there. I’ve always felt a bit guilty using that term because being part of Keloland TV has never been what I think of as “work.”  When I sacked oat hulls at Cotton Elevator in Volga or picked rocks on my Uncle Johnny’s farm; that was work. For the most part, employment at Keloland was more of a joy than a job.

Anyway, the Keloland News and Production departments have really been busy digging through the archives rounding up fascinating images; photos, films and video tapes..some of  which you’ve been seeing recently during newscasts and on Keloland.com. It all comes together for an ambitious hour-long special on Monday May 20^th at 6:30 pm.

In 8 years of doing the Lund at Large blog, I’ve shared a lot of personal memories posting, at one time or another, most every picture and plaque I have from my career in TV.

So, some of these included below have been here before but am sharing again for those who may not have seen them, don’t mind seeing them again or simply enjoy watching the physical deterioration of an anchorman through the ages.

Steve, Me and Burt aboard the Kelo plane heading to Huron and the State Fair

Once in Huron, we’d stroll around the fairgrounds handing out Keloland program schedules.

Sometime later, I had the bright idea to cut down on the walking and autograph the sun visors Kelo was giving away outside our mobile home on the fairgrounds. A  gesture of vanity, I suppose, but people stood in long lines for them. We eventually got a table and chairs so we could sit down as we signed. Both Steve and I wish we could slip into those pants again.

Every once in a while, one of those Keloland visors shows up..like this one at a rummage sale for a quarter.

What an honor to be associated with this bunch of guys for so long.

And, what a treat it is to STILL be part of the Keloland team as the Voice of Keloland. Here’s a quick look at what my current duties entail.

I usually go in a couple times a week for a recording session and have the chance to greet folks in the newsroom, like producers, Anna Peters and Andy Graning (both seated) Along with Ben Dunsmoor and Perry Groten checking over the rundown.

Chief photographer, Kevin Kjergaard on his way to shoot another award winner story.

My boss, Paul Farmer sets up to record my voice. Tapes..even discs are things of the past. It’s all digital now.

“Keloland News, brought to you by Grand Falls Casino.”

At home, I have loads of reminders about my long association with Keloland Television on the walls of our basement and my man cave.

Just a few photos and items from my basement shrine.

Among my proud possessions is the glass circle from Captain 11′s original time converter and,below, a lovely sentiment from Angela given when I retired.

One day, Linda surprised me with a collection of awards and special memorabilia arranged on the wall of my man cave. What a wonderful little wifey she is.

It’s as cliche as can be but it really does seem like yesterday when it was me spending the better part of a year assembling photographs, films and interviews after being assigned to produce  Keloland TV’s 25th anniversary special. It wound up running two hours during prime time in May of 1978.  And now..look here..we’re still around and taking part in the 60th!  The “60 Years In Keloland” hour long special can be seen Monday evening, May 20th at 5:30 pm Central time.  Don’t you dare miss it.

First of all, HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY to all of you who qualify. The upcoming holiday got me to thinking about a couple of classy broads who played a significant role in my TV career and who’ve recently celebrated significant birthdays. I know some of you might think the term “ classy broads”  may not be very complimentary but I use it with the greatest amount of respect and, if you know either of them, you’d agree the description fits.

First, Sylvia Henkin has chalked up another year (her 92^nd) with no noticeable changes physically.. to her energy level..or commitment to projects and causes that extend well into the future and for which, she fully expects to be around.  

Sylvia and yours truly at her 90th birthday party.

She’s always been a tireless promoter of Sioux Falls ever since moving here from Sheldon, Iowa in 1944 and marrying KSOO Radio owner, Mort Henkin. Before long she was on the airwaves hosting programs like “Party Line” which was filled with information and events of interest to the listening audience. Sylvia, like WNAX’s Wynn Speece, (The Neighbor Lady, another classy broad) was unique throughout the region in that they provided a welcome women’s voice on the radio that housewives in town and on the farm really appreciated. When Mort added KSOO television to the fold in the early sixties, Sylvia became an even bigger celebrity as she and Ray Loftesness  brought Party Line to TV.  I was lucky enough to get my first television job at KSOO and, when Lofty left, some lunatic in charge decided to pair me up with Sylvia. I was as green as Kermit The Frog’s backside, but  was welcomed to the set with open arms, literally. That has always been Sylvia’s style and, thanks to her kindness and mentoring manner, I learned how to relax on the air and just go with the flow.

My mom, God rest her soul, had put together a scrapbook of my life which she gave me shortly before she passed away in 1995. Among the special things inside was this picture; the only one I have showing Sylvia and me on the set of Party Line in 1972.

Also on that image is another grand lady who meant so much to my early career in broadcasting; Gena Hartig.

I’d known of Gena after years of watching her on Keloland Television doing commercials for kitchen appliances and other products as well as hosting shows of special interest to women viewers. When I joined Keloland TV in 1974, Gena and her husband Leo Hartig co-anchored the Noon show.

 When Leo was on assignment one day, I was tapped to be his replacement. I got to be nervous all over again. But, like Sylvia two years earlier, Gena put me instantly at east and even called me “Sweety.” 

Leo and Gena Harting taking a quick lunch break while working at the Keloland Gold Rush in 1961.

After Leo died a few years ago, Gena..a wonderful singer and musician..moved to Omaha to be closer to her sons, Geoffrey, Michael and Tom who’ve carried on their parent’s show business tradition; working in video/audio and music production. Tom is a world class jazz saxophonist with loads of credits including “Mannheim Steam Roller”

I haven’t seen Gena for several years now, but we keep in touch. She now lives in a retirement home but tells me it’s pretty boring; too many old people, she says. She also keeps asking if I’m still married..heh, heh.

Gena just turned 90 herself  but, like Sylvia, doesn’t look or act her age..thank goodness. The Omaha World Herald recently featured a fascinating article about Gena’s remarkable life which included a whole lot more than being one of the first women on television in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

If you’d like to read the story just CLICK HERE.

On their 90th birthday, Gena and her twin sister sat down to the piano to entertain the guests with a classy classical. Want to see and hear it? Okay. CLICK HERE.

Let’s see..I was going to write some other stuff but it will have to wait until Tuesday. As you may have heard, Keloland TV is celebrating its 60^th anniversary which will culminate with an hour long special May 20^th.  In my next few blogs leading up to the special, I’ll be sharing some personal memories and images from my years with Keloland; “First with the best in the upper Midwest.”

Believe me, I’m as sick and tired of showing you pictures of my back yard as you are seeing them but, since you’ve followed our sad saga thus far I figured you should see the final (at least I hope it’s the final) insult. Sometime during the night I was awakened by the familiar ticking sound of ice pellets hitting the roof followed by a a crunching crash out back.

Hip hip hurray for the month of May

Just when you thought the old maple tree had been stripped of all her vulnerable branches by the last storm, another large one couldn’t stand the strain and lost its grip in the darkness narrowly missing the same powerline that got snapped two weeks ago. It will now, I suppose, end up in a humiliating mountain of mulch rather than fulfilling its noble calling of providing oxygen for the atmosphere, a roost for robins and sparrows and squirrels, beautifying the neighborhood and rendering a bit of shade from the hot summer sun for the old couple who dwell below.

It’s May Day. In my youth, I remember giving and receiving little packages of goodies delivered to and by special friends. It was my first experience with the power of passion..especially if the Anundson or Eggebratten girls came to our door with a tray of May baskets.

I don’t think they do May baskets much anymore do they?

A lot of other images come to mind when pondering past May firsts; the aroma of freshly turned dirt for the garden; the sight of tulips reaching  up from their subterranean slumber  and riding into the blue sky aboard a single green stem; the sound of lawn mowers roaring to life and the curses of men whose machines refused to respond to dozens of tiring tugs on the starter rope.

I also have vivid memories of watching the annual May Day show of Russian military might on TV. Miles of missiles and synchronized Soviet soldiers passing in review before stern-faced old fat guys in medal-laden uniforms. I always figured it was only a matter of time before one of those ICBM’s would be launched..intentionally or accidentally..at us and that would be that.

Before Hell decided to freeze over, Linda and I along with our friends Denny and Joan, took advantage of our faux spring a few days ago to have a picnic in the park. Our park of choice is the Perry Nature Area just east of Sioux Falls. In fact, the area used to “be” the community of East Sioux Falls. It’s a lovely spot where families who worked the Sioux Quartzite quarries in the early 20^th century used to live. The only remnants of their existence, though, are a few cement foundations and flowers; all varieties of flowers, planted in backyard gardens by women in bonnets nearly a century ago that still pop up every spring. The poor trees that give Perry Nature Area it’s charm also took a beating from the ice storm but the mighty Bur Oak, believed to be the oldest in South Dakota, still stands straight and tall; too tough to be intimidated by a little ice.  The four of us were all smiles as we sat at our usual table under the park shelter; commenting on what a joy it was to finally have seemingly awakened from our long winter nightmare. We offered up toast after toast with our glasses full of wine. We don’t bring cold chicken and potato salad to these picnics; it’s wine and cheese and warm biscuits and butter. It was while opening our second bottle of Pinot Noir that we began to wonder if Perry Nature Area was among the parks to ban booze. The thought was a bit unnerving but not enough to pack up and leave. I had a plan in mind if the park manager would have pulled up in his pick-up to give us a talking to. “We’re having a church service,” I’d say. “You’ve come just in time for communion and a prayer of thanksgiving for this beautiful day.”  He’d retreat in shame, of course. “Ha, ha ha..we sure fooled him,” I’d say while popping the cork on the last Merlot. “I sure hope God has a sense of humor,” Joanie said while looking up at the blue sky and sunshine.

“Of course He does,” I replied, “What do you think He’d do..make it snow in May?”

GOING..

 GOING..

GONE…..SORT OF..

  The trillions of twigs that remain still need to be raked up and hauled away. I was just about to call the guy back to finish the job (which he couldn’t do then because of snow on the ground) but I better wait BECAUSE IT’S SNOWING AGAIN!  

Like a January blizzard, it’s coming down sideways riding along on 30 mile an hour gusts of wind. High today and tomorrow..mid 30’s. Normal high this time of year; low 60’s.  I don’t ever recall a winter so determined to overstay its welcome. I had high hopes Easter weekend when it was nice enough for a family outing at the Falls. Jackets replaced parkas. The sun felt warm on the face, cardinals were holding concerts in the trees and golf courses were opening. Then, winter gave us one of those slow-motion Rocky Balboa punches to the face, You know..so hard that the sweat goes flying and your jaw becomes distorted.  That was just the early rounds; we’ve been getting pummeled ever since. Some have thrown in the towel and got the hell out of town seeking warmth and sanity in places far south from here with Spanish names. Good for you. We’re all jealous but please stop posting pictures of your feet resting upon soft white sands pointing toward the warm emerald waters of some distant ocean. We’re not in the mood. We are cranky and, even though the extended forecast again shows gradually warming temperatures this week, we  have heard those ducks fart in the water before. Optimistic forecasts from well meaning meteorologists  get trumped by some big low pressure system that forms up in Canada and descends with a fury to us unsuspecting souls across the border. We have become calloused and tend to believe that forecasters may actually be intentionally flinging folly  in order to keep us from knowing the truth; that another savage storm is heading our way..knowing that such news will send many, ravaged with cabin fever, off the deep end charging into the streets screaming and scaring the children.   Poor Linda is almost beyond consoling. Her normally affable attitude and Pollyanna personality has descended into a state of frustration and disappointment. Like many of you, she’s been so anxious to be outside; to get her hands in the dirt planting flowers and enjoying a nice glass of wine on our deck. It also can’t be easy for her to be stuck in perpetuial close proximity with me all the time when normally I’d be out of the house and her hair playing golf a couple days a week by now.

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I’m glad they got the 2^nd Boston bombing suspect ..and they got him alive.. but I’m still not clear on the circumstances surrounding his capture inside a covered boat in some guy’s backyard. Police say they opened fire after hearing a shot come from the boat. Luckily, I guess, the suspect survived and was pulled out an hour later and sent to the hospital for treatment of two wounds; one to the leg (believed to have been from the shootout the night before) and another to the mouth and throat.

Dzhokhar Tsarnaey being taken into custody.

It’s that throat wound, which we’re not hearing much about, that has led some..including me..to wonder if the shot from the boat, which led to the volley by police, was actually Tsarnaey lifting the cover up and firing at his pursuers or a botched attempt to commit suicide.  Don’t get me wrong, law enforcement officers..thousands of them..deserve credit for bringing these two evil brothers down but do they deserve praise for taking Dzhokhar alive..or were they just lucky that none of their bullets, which, according to its owner, left his boat looking like Swiss cheese, found their mark?  Does it matter? Yeah, I think it does; full disclosure and all that.

Well, it’s stopped snowing for now. Better check and see if I have enough gas for the snowblower..not just for today but this weekend when it’s supposed to hit 70.

P.S. Here’s an interesting and timely tidbit from the Keloland memory banks:  Keloland founder, Joe L. Floyd was good friends with Wisconsin Senator, Gaylord Nelson. In 1969 the two of them were in Florida together when Nelson mentioned his deep concerns about environmental issues facing America. Nelson said he wanted to organize some major event to call attention to the worsening condition. He had the idea but was stuck for a catchy title. That’s when Joe Floyd said, “Why don’t you just call it Earth Day?” And that’s what Nelson did..promoting it from his Senate office before the concept caught on nationally. Now, as the late great Paul Harvey used to say, you know the rest of the story.

Nothing more I can add to what everyone already knows about this modern day version of the Boston Massacre.

ABC photo

Since the savages that commit these acts of insanity care nothing about life, including their own, there isn’t a whole lot of satisfaction when they’re eventually taken down like the dogs they are. But we owe it to the victims and all freedom loving people to begin again the task of lifting up rocks seeking out the scum that have scurried into the darkness and squash them like  bugs.

I was quite shocked Monday morning as I headed to the Hudson, South Dakota locker plant to pick up meat we had processed there. Sioux Falls came within a whisker of missing the snow and ice that brought such devastation to the city last week. Five miles South of town the snow disappears. Canton has very little tree damage. Hudson had none.

The branches, large and small, which came crashing down on our house and yard..snagging a powerline on the way..now make up a five foot high windrow that extends along the entire length of our boulevard. After passing through the neighborhood several times, the electrical linemen finally stopped at the Lund residence. I’ve gotta hand it to them, they had us up and running at full power in short order. One of them told Linda that it’s a good thing we didn’t go out and try move any branches ourselves since one of the wires was still hot and very dangerous.

Sunday afternoon, a young man who attends our daughter’s church and operates Yard Dogs lawn care service came over and within a couple hours had our place cleaned up. Now, we’ll have to wait until the city’s branch removal brigade, made up of  guys in the orange jumpsuits with “INMATE” printed on the pant leg, to stop by and somehow clear all the boulevard hedge rows.

The Yard Dog bill was 400 bucks. For another 60, he’ll come back and rake up the million little twigs that remain. I think I still have a rake or two that Linda can handle. (Kidding)

On the brighter side, The South Dakota Rock and Roll Music Association Hall of Fame ceremony and concert at the Ramkota Exhibit Hall on Saturday afternoon and evening was another sell-out and an absolutely fantastic show. All ten bands being inducted into the Hall of Fame performed and were just great..especially considering many of the musicians hadn’t played in years.

This marked the Music Association’s fifth year for the event and plans are already underway for 2014. If you love old time rock and roll and have fond memories of going to ballrooms to see and hear your favorite bands..you simply must take in this show.

The Roselles Brothers

An update on my latest diet which involves fasting two days a week. If you’re one of my fellow geezers who believes time flies by way too fast when you get older. Try not eating anything for 24 hours at a crack. Minutes are like hours.

As for noticing any difference after a week. Well, I don’t weigh. (Numbers on the scale don’t go that high.) I can usually mark progress or failure by how my dress slacks fit. On stage, Saturday night, they were so tight I was afraid a button might explode off my pants and put somebody’s eye out. And so it goes.

It’s sorta fun, I guess, to see pictures on Facebook of people’s kids innocently and gleefully playing in the new fallen snow; oblivious to the disaster that has befallen the entire city of Sioux Falls and surrounding area in the form of an unprecedented downpour of ice from the heavens. Like waves of honey it kept coming down sticking to everything. The sheer weight of it exposed the weak spots of even the most stately trees causing huge branches to rip from their moorings and come cascading onto rooftops, vehicles and power lines. Some remain attached and aloft but broken and mortally wounded waiting for the final insult; a gust of wind to send them crashing below to join the others. When I look outside, especially our property, I can’t help but think of how the Ardennes Forest looked during the Battle of the Bulge when a relentless barrage of German artillery caused the pine trees to explode while trying to blast our boys out of their fox holes.

This street shot of our house more than any other illustrates the degree of destruction and clean up work ahead.

As I write this, a utility truck that was stopped in our neighborhood, has disappeared without checking our backyard and removing the big branch that fell across our power lines so they look like two big “V’s” inches off the ground. We have a “partial” outage..meaning electricity works in about half the house which does include the furnace, refrigerator, TV and internet but not the stove, microwave, washer, dryer and half the lights. I’m told, this is either not that unusual in situations like this or an extreme fire hazard and we should unplug everything and get the hell out.  Like that old guy, (Truman..in think his name was) who lived in the shadow of Mt. St. Helens, we’re not leaving. I hope our outcome is better than poor Mr. Truman who ended up buried under a pile of forest trees sent flying for miles by the velocity of Saint Helen’s eruption.

There now, I’ve compared our situation to deadly volcanoes and big World War II battles which isn’t fair, I suppose, but illustrates not only the exasperation I feel about what has happened but the frustration and apprehension I..and thousands of others.. .have about how were going to deal with the aftermath. There’s no way Linda and I can move these big branches off the roof and yard..which will have to wait anyway since there’s a danger of electrocution until somebody shows up from Xcel.  I’m still not clear on what the mayor meant by the city disaster declaration?  If it’s nothing more than the city picking up branches that you’re responsible for dragging to the boulevard..well, that’s not much comfort to the widow lady sitting alone in the cold and dark waiting for help.

I just wonder how this is all going to play out.  How long is the tree trimmer’s list of desperate customers?  Will our majestic trees survive or need to be leveled? Will my insurance cover the roof repair?

Hopefully, I’ll have some answers when I join you again next Tuesday unless I was wrong about defying the home evacuation warning and learned a fiery fatal lesson about the hazards of partial power.

Unlike this bear barreling out of his den following a deep winter’s sleep..skinny as a rail and hungry as a ..well..a bear, I have emerged from hibernation this spring even fatter than when I ducked into my man cave after last fall’s final round of golf only to poke my head out long enough to fulfill occasional obligations.

 It’s become an annual ritual for me; being unable to stand the site of my own reflection, to vow to do something about it. Over the decades I’ve tried about every diet out there with varying degrees of success, only to slip back into old habits and pack the lard back on; crushing my self confidence a little more with each failure. Now, I’m a reasonably intelligent guy (maybe not, I just had to use spell check on the word intelligent) and am absolutely aware that the only lasting solution to my problem of achieving and maintaining weight loss is to change the lifestyle that led me down this long sad path in the first place to the town of obesity where I have lived since childhood. Sure, it’s easy for you strong willed people or those with the metabolism of  hummingbirds to dish out advice to us fatties about simply eating less and exercising more and..bingo, problem solved.

But I maintain that some of us were genetically predisposed to be fat and our battle to lose is never ending and not the same as those who need to shed a few pounds gained while grazing the buffets aboard ship on that Caribbean cruise. But lose I must and here’s this Spring’s plan of attack which comes from an actual Doctor recently featured on Public Television no less so it must be more factual than faddish. At least that’s going to be my approach. His name is Dr. Michael Mosley a British journalist and physician who set an ambitious goal for himself to become healthier and lose weight. Here’s the kicker that got my attention, he wanted to make as few changes as possible to his lifestyle! And HE DID IT.

Dr. Michael Mosley at final weigh-in.

 In working toward these goals, Dr. Mosely rediscovered the old idea of fasting as part of a program that still allows him to enjoy his favorite foods. Huh..doesn’t that sound good?

You can read more about it here or just Google his name and you can watch the entire TV program in which, by fasting two days a week, he managed to drop over ten pounds a month. There’s nothing much more to it than that.

I started this morning and will let you know how things go along the way. I know that I can make myself go without food for a day at a time…it’s the fear of being perpetually hungry that kills my willpower and will to live. My friend, John Mogen, has been fasting one day a week for over thirty years. It began as a spiritual experience to literally practice what the Bible preaches to fast and pray. I’m afraid my motivation is not quite so lofty but I have spent a lot of time in fervent prayer seeking divine guidance to rid His temple..my body..of all this abundant flab which threatens not only my lifestyle but life itself.  I’m sure He has more important things on His plate (pardon the pun) than my food intake but, I seem to recall some preacher’s message about no request being too small. I’ve got a long way to go so I’m going to try fasting three days a week instead of two and not to gorge on eating days. If nothing else, my gut and guts probably deserve a rest.

Whoa..I just heard a growling noise and looked down to see if our granddog, Brandy, who we’ve been dog sitting, needed to go out then realized she went home yesterday and that grrrring sound was coming from my ample abdomen. Now, I’ve got to turn off the  Food Network on TV and stop browsing Facebook since most of my friends have decided that this is the day to post pictures of all their favorite recipes.

This may not be so easy after all.

Anybody who reads these literary wanderings on a regular basis knows that I love history..all kinds of history but especially that of LOCAL people, places and events. When my daughters were little, they thought nothing of dad taking them to visit cemeteries..not for funerals or to decorate graves (Does anybody use that term anymore?) but just to stroll around looking at and reading headstones.

There’s a lot of history to be found there even if you have to fill in some of the blanks yourself.,  For example, we’d see a child’s grave with the date of death 1888..and you wonder if they were one of those kids who died in the tragic Children’s Blizzard of that year when hundreds perished trying to get home from school.  Whenever I see a marker with the DOD from 1918 to 1920, I can’t help but wonder if they perished on the battlefields of France in World War I or were they one of the 700 thousand Americans who succumbed to the world wide flu pandemic.

I’ve also been interested in the history of this town I’ve called home for the last 44 years. I love driving around the historic district to see all the large old houses that date back to the late 19^th century..many of them lovingly restored to their former glory. Several of those places as well as some of the most majestic buildings downtown were creations of the noted architect, Wallace Dow.

 Which brings me to this: My old pal and former Keloland colleague, Brad Dumke and his wife, Jennifer, have spent the better part of two years writing and filming a documentary about Wallace Dow. It was recently screened before a packed house at the Old Courthouse Museum. (Another structure designed by Dow.) It’s a brilliant production and you still have a chance to see the encore presentation at the museum on Sunday April 7th from 2 to 4. Fellow history buffs and experts will be on hand again to answer questions about this most interesting character whose legacy, thanks to Brad and Jen, is now as solid as the Sioux Quartzite Dow used for his construction material.

Speaking of fascinating characters..Sioux Falls historian, Eric Renshaw, whom I’ve mentioned here before, has recently written and published a wonderful book about his favorite subject; “Forgotten Sioux Falls.” It’s an extension of his web site   and his fabulous Facebook page of the same name. For the last ten years or so, Eric has been on a quest to find images..be they photos, postcards, pamphlets, newspapers or magazines..about Sioux Falls throughout its interesting history. He then posts his discoveries so that buffs like me can spend hours and hours drifting through the past at the computer. Unlike some publications where pictures can be hard to see, Eric makes it possible so that with a couple clicks of your mouse, the photos enlarge so you can really examine each photo in incredible detail.

I hope you’ll buy Eric’s book. I know it’s available at several local bookstores including Zanbroz. Plus you can order it online through Amazon or his website.

What I especially enjoy about Eric’s efforts is that he not only shows pictures and details about EARLY Sioux Falls but our more recent history too; stuff even I remember in my five decades here. How about Charlie’s Pizza on Minnesota Avenue, Geovoni’s Steak House on E. 10th, the Macomba Club on N. Main or the Pathfinder atomic power plant east of town?

I hope Eric doesn’t mind but I’ve pulled a few examples to show you. I’ll wager that..like me..seeing them will send a lot of you on the fast track back in time. I especially like split shots like this one showing Phillips Avenue in the 30′s and today. Remember the Nickle Plate? It’s the Touch of Europe now.

This is how I remember Phillips Avenue looking as I stood outside the front door of Johnson shoes where I worked for a couple years after coming to town in 1969. 

  But then, some of the brilliant minds at City Hall thought it would be a great idea to rip down old buildings and turn part of Phillips into a Walking Mall. Hello..is anybody out there?

 Speaking of bright ideas that didn’t pan out:

But when she got there, the Kupboard was bare.

Downtown is back on track. Well, part of it is.

Remember when theaters used to run big ads in the paper?

I remember this fine eating establishment as “The Normandy”..then “Godfathers”

See, isn’t that fun? There are scads more pictures plus interesting background info on the web site or Facebook page. 

Thanks Eric for “NOT” forgetting Sioux Falls!

Tim Johnson’s decision not to seek re-election must certainly go against every fiber of his being; after all there’s never been an election he hasn’t won. He clearly has enjoyed his time in congress and, for the most part, South Dakotans have appreciated his efforts on their behalf in dealing with the political quagmire that is Washington D.C.

Tim’s career and mine covered pretty much the same time period; from the mid 70’s up until 2006 and I wound up interviewing him more times than I can count. He was always accommodating and, I believe, genuinely dedicated to serving all his constituents; no small feat when most of those constituents belong to the other party. But there were times, lots of times, when he simply didn’t want to be diverted with media questions that deviated too far from his well rehearsed press releases. I’d often do that and could see him bristle a bit. It really ticked off his aides who preferred we would stick to the script. Tim Johnson, though, never wavered from his agenda or allowed himself to be compromised by some reporter back home. My only real issue with those conversations is that Tim, like most politicians, used the word “ought” a lot in his responses..such as, we ought to be doing more to help South Dakota farmers. We ought to make sure social security is sound for our seniors etc. Lots of promise-free rhetoric.

I always wished  that instead of saying we “ought”..he’d just once say, “Doug, I ‘AM’ going to introduce legislation to achieve that end and will be leaning hard on my fellow senators to get it passed.”

Has Tim Johnson been good for South Dakota? Well, his political record on all the issues is easy as pie to find on the internet..check for yourself. But I don’t think anyone can question the quality of his character both in his personal and professional life..especially in these last few years as he has defiantly confronted both prostate cancer and the brain bleed that left him with considerable limitations.

I join with thousands of other South Dakotans in saying, “Thanks, Tim.”  Now, will you tell us straight up, is your son, Brendan going to try keep the senate seat in the family? (I don’t know how to put that little smiley face with a wink icon here but would if I could.)

I also found former Senator Jim Abourezk’s comments on Johnson’s decision rather interesting. Abourezk, who chose not to seek re-election to the senate in 1978 told Keloland’s Don Jorgenson that the reason for his decision was he wanted to spend more time with his family. But, in actuality, there was a little more to it than that. Abourezk’s folks came here from Lebanon and, although James was born and raised in South Dakota, he has never let anybody forget his Arab roots..including and especially those members of congress who took exception to his  constant tirades against Israel and claims that members of congress were too scared and intimidated by Zionists to challenge U.S. Mideast foreign policy. (The same song he continues to sing to this day even more zealously) I remember well, Hemmingsen and me watching the TV monitor in the newsroom when Abourezk gave this response on national television as to why he wasn’t running;  “I can’t wait to get out of this chicken sh-t outfit” he said.

Another factor in Abourezk’s decision might have been polls that showed him well behind a dashing young republican named Larry Pressler who had an eye on his job.

Last..and certainly least. The Sioux Falls Fighting Pheasants local baseball team are the Canaries again. I remember questioning the wisdom of the name change three years ago and now the new boss of the team, Tom Garrity, has yielded to community pressure and brought the yellow birds back.

It’s nice to respect and appreciate Canary history but I’m afraid a name change isn’t the main reason for a lack of butts in the bleachers.

I think it has more to do with fielding teams that can win..even rounding up some former big leaguers who may have lost a step but still have the desire to play. Remember how we went out to see guys like Pedro Guraro, Steve Howe, Pat Mahomes, Kim Batiste and others?

I am glad about one thing, though. I can now continue to wear my old Sioux Falls Canaries baseball cap without having to answer a lot of questions.

UPDATE: My pal and longtime Canaries owner, Gary Weckwerth makes a good point in the comments below.  So how about this? 

Did you used to go to Canaries/Pheasants games but don’t so much anymore?

Why?  Did the name change stop you from attending games?

What should the organization do to fill up the stands?

I really hope the public responds to whatever effort the Canaries organization puts forth. The stadium is top notch and there’s nothing like a warm summer night at the ballpark with peanuts and a cold one.