A Month in Istanbul!!!

Posted on May 5, 2024 by sheilawill

Walking around Lake Harriet I happened upon a pop-up yoga class this morning. I happily joined in, stretching in nature. Where else could you take a free outdoor yoga class? The Bay Area, somewhere in Vermont, Mt. Desert Island in actual summer?

I noticed that small sailboats are now moored close to shore. I’m always listening for interesting conversations around the three-mile lake, today as flat as a pancake.

“A month in Istanbul” I heard a man say to his partner. Sure, I would enjoy that, but for now there’s so much going on in Minneapolis.

Heading home from Lake Harriet I stopped at the busy Farmers’ Market, starting its season, which is a five-minute stroll from our house. Where else could I buy farm-fresh garlic scallions and a mixed bag of “zesty greens?”

Our sweet little yard

I’ll admit that I’ve underestimated Minneapolis, complaining that I don’t like big cities (Minneapolis is the largest I have lived in) or freeway driving (Passive-aggressive drivers abound).

Unlike my beloved Mt. Desert Island, Maine a real spring explodes here. A cause for celebration, indeed!

When I posted the recent “36 Hours in Minneapolis” in the New York Times, I lamented having only partaken of six or seven places/restaurants mentioned, since I’ve only lived here for close to three years.

The article noted the fancy Spoon and Stable that closed about a year ago. Who knows what else no longer exists in this city? https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2024/05/02/travel/things-to-do-minneapolis.html?unlocked_article_code=1.pk0.U5s1.MGMpVVBMQDmJ&smid=url-share

So I decided to offer readers a very abbreviated take on this Midwestern metropolis. First of all, we live in lovely Linden Hills, its own village in the big city, which suits me well.

Of course I’ve been to the famous Guthrie Theater. I worked there as an usher my first year living in the Big City. Later this afternoon we’re attending a 10,000 Things production of “The Spitfire Grill.” Eight out of ten plays I’ve seen this small company produce have been superb. In addition, 10,000 Things brings its phenomenal productions free to community centers and to local prisons. Culture is alive and well!

Following today’s play we’re heading to Quang’s, a much touted family run Vietnamese restaurant, for more than thirty-three. I’ve never been but Asian food establishments in Minneapolis are the best, and so diverse, including Hmong, Korean, Thai, Vietnamese, and Asian fusion (I’m probably forgetting others at the moment. The shrimp toast at Hai Hai is to die for).

Mill Valley, our favorite happy hour restaurant has upped its prices it’s still worth it. Where can you get the most scrumptious Thai wings for $6? And I swear, its on-tap Prosecco is the tastiest anywhere.

Last week we attended six films at the Minneapolis Film Society’s International Film Fest at the Main Cinema (Tucson pals, check out “Limbo” and “Mountain Boy” if they come to the Loft). This week the Linden Hills Ladies Libation Society will visit the fabulous Minneapolis Institute of Art, with lunch afterward at Heather’s (perhaps to uphold the group’s name I’ll have a glass of wine, followed by a mid-afternoon nap).

If you care to know, which you probably don’t, next Sunday I’ll attend theMinnesota Children’s Theater’s production of “Frog and Toad” with my two grandkids, their other grandmother who’s called Tammy, and my son. I haven’t been happy with earlier plays I’ve seen there with my grandkids, but I’ll give them another chance.

How can I leave this brief Minneapolis story without divulging the headline on the front page of today’s Star Tribune: “77 Families ask, Where is Justice?” In addition to the horror of George Floyd’s murder, “a deadly era has left Minneapolis with a bitter backlog of unsolved homicides.” An unconscionable situation.

I’m happy to say that Minnesota possesses a fully Democratic State Government, and supports a woman’s right to reproductive freedom; “If you don’t support abortion, don’t have one!” I’ll stop there.

I would love a month in Istanbul, probably my favorite foreign city (I haven’t been to Paris in thirty-one years). Even for a short one-week visit, I’m excited to return to Maine for a week in June.

Meanwhile, It’s time to set tiny snapdragon, tomato, dill, purple basil, marigold, and lobelia plants in the welcoming ground out front. There’s nothing like mucking around in the dirt.

Posted in Food/happy hours, Managing Minneapolis, Mount Desert Island/Maine | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A Pretty Good Road Trip

Posted on March 6, 2024 by sheilawill

I miss our Mallorca Drive winter abode, its front and back patios bordered by the Sonoran Desert, its prickly pear, sunny blossoming brittle bush, and regal saguaros at our doorstep.

But here we are back in Minneapolis, bypassing Mason City, Iowa last night. We planned to walk around viewing Frank Lloyd Wright architecture, his fancy Park Hotel, one of his last-standing designs. We imagined sipping Prosecco in its fancy bar, celebrating our pretty good road trip and our two glorious months in Tucson.

We abandoned our plan after stopping at three motels inquiring about a room, each lobby smelling of cigarette smoke that made me cough. Mason City was now on my shitlist.

“Let’s go home,” I said. “We’ll keep listening to ‘Townie'”, the gripping audiobook memoir by Andre Dubus III. Too much serious bar fighting grossed me out in the rough town of Haverhill, Massachusetts, which I knew. Still, I immersed myself in the adept author’s New England story. Maine being my number 1 home. Was Tucson my number 2 home? Minneapolis number 3?

Traveling through the Southwest, the first two days of our journey proved magical, as it often does driving byways instead of highways. New Mexico Route 117 was the ticket, unknown to us with its hoodoo-like rocks that turned into a dinosaur-sized arch. Soft white sand around what may may have been the drinking puddles of an ancient ocean 150 million years ago.

Once a dinosaur home

On to Las Vegas, New Mexico, where I had read about a panel mural sequence inspired by my late great mentor, the historian Howard Zinn.

Surprise! “The People’s History of El Norte,” old and faded but still relevant, appeared in the parking lot across from our designated lunch spot, the lively Charlie’s Spic & Span Bakery and Cafe. Not to be missed if you find yourself in a very different Las Vegas.

One of the 11 panels of “The People’s History of El Norte”

“The eleven-panel mural is a chronological and colorfully painted tribute to historical events deemed important (by a public survey) and in some cases omitted from history books. It was painted by some 300 culturally diverse students under the direction of Rock Ulibarri, historian, educator and community leader and by Casa de Cultura, a non-profit organization whose mission is to create and maintain the cultural authenticity of the community.” (visitlasvegasnm.com)

Did I feel like a teacher again, introducing disappeared history to the sweet young green-eyed hostess or the two big guys standing behind her waiting for their table? None of the three knew about the mural.

I sat down at the waiting place. I had to tell the man next to me — Danny, a Las Vegas native — about the mural. Today’s history was on his mind.

“If that guy wins again,” he said, “this country is really going downhill.”

“True that,” I replied.

Danny was hesitant but he smiled and let me take his picture. We were on the same page.

I feel like myself! I feel like myself! I kept saying to Marc, drinking my second coffee of the day, an iced white mocha at Charlie’s, then munching on a yummy green-chili burger atop a jalapeño bun.

The green-eyed hostess found a t-shirt for me: “Panza Llena Corazon Contento” (Full Belly Happy Heart). I felt at home at Charlie’s.

Two nights later, I began to feel at home back in Linden Hills, sipping on Prosecco and munching on Trader Joe’s olive oil popcorn. I can’t wait to see my son’s family later today.

It’s a good feeling immersing myself in wild places. It’s a good feeling submerging myself in history. It’s a good feeling connecting with kind people. Anywhere. Everywhere.

Posted in America WTF?, For Love of History, Nature Girl, Out West, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Back in Tucson!

Posted on February 1, 2024 by sheilawill

Only for two months, but I love being here with both my Saguaro and human friends! We’re at the halfway mark.

Continue reading →

Posted in America WTF?, Bopping Around Tucson, Nature Girl, Old friends, Out West, Spunky Writing Hints | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Locked In

Posted on December 18, 2023 by sheilawill

Once I locked myself in the bathroom, planning to jump out the window, swinging on a tree branch like Tarzan or Jane in old jungle movies. I was young then.

Never before had I been locked in the bathroom by mistake. I had just taken a shower and was looking forward to our December Linden Hills Ladies Libation event.

As I nonchalantly went to open the bathroom door the old-fashioned glass doorknob fell off. No screw showed up to hook it back in place. I was stuck. Nail files, tiny scissors, and anything else sharp I could fit in the empty space, where the doorknob had lived, proved frustrating to use as escape items.

I took breaks from poking around in the doorknob inners. Squats, leg lifts, donkey kicks, and myriad exercises ensued. As did fingernail and toenail clipping. I found a bottle of nail strengthener to apply to my fingernails. I attempted meditation. That didn’t work.

“Remain calm,” I told myself.

My friend Judy arrived to pick me up for the ladies’ event. She rang the doorbell. Usually I’m standing outside when she drives us to parts of the city I’m unfamiliar with. We joke about going out drinking, and the time I drove over a curb following TWO glasses of Prosecco.

“Help, help!” I cried. “Come downstairs, I’m locked in the bathroom.” She didn’t hear me.

“Maybe I would have heard you if I came to the side door,” Judy opined. She called Marc to alert him, or indeed, to discover if both of us had befallen to “a situation.” He didn’t answer his phone.

Speculation arose among the Ladies Libration members.

“Did Sheila have a heart attack?

“Are they in the hospital (I sure hope they weren’t going to start calling every hospital in town).”.

“Did their house burn down?”

My LL friends were concerned. Apparently, they entertained themselves with their own locked out/or in stories.

Two hours later, when Marc returned from his dog psychologist appointment with Barkly, I called the ladies to tell them what happened.

I heard the laughter in the background when someone announced my plight.

From now on I will take my phone into the bathroom, just not in the shower, of course. I will leave a book there, adding to the places I never go without someone else’s story beside me.

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Posted in Fight wimpiness, Managing Minneapolis, Read, Read, Read | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

How Art Revives Us!

Posted on December 3, 2023 by sheilawill

Why am I surprised after visiting an art museum? Those feelings of newness, imagination, and life’s possibilities bubble up in me every time. Yet how often do I go to an art museum, of which there are three top-notch examples here in Minneapolis?

Yesterday we ventured to The Museum of Russian Art, the only museum solely exhibiting Russian works in North America.

In the brochure depicting The Art of Leon Hushcha, raised in a St. Paul Ukrainian-speaking family, the artist says, “When words fail me, I paint.”

His gleaming, diverse paintings speak to me about: Putin’s decimation of Hushcha’s home country, where I believe my mother was also born; the Ukrainian heart and soul; and the artist’s love of color, ultimately jolting me into pondering a local artist friend’s recent question.

Sorry for the light flash in this magnificent painting

How do we balance both joy and grief in our tender psyches?

Posted in Managing Minneapolis, Politics, The Rest of the World, Visual Entertainment | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

The Mediterranean’s Allure

Posted on November 12, 2023 by sheilawill

   Our last day in Sicily, we four tourists were lounging on Cefalu’s crowded beach. The Mediterranean beckoned. I fell for it big time. Its turquoise clarity colliding with other shades of blue, matching the sky. The Mediterranean’s gently rolling waves were supposed to relax us before boarding the long flight across the big pond, back to Boston and our daily lives filled with errands, writing, walking, coffee, and adorable grandchildren.

  The young entrepreneur with curly dark hair walked by. Patterned Indian beach blankets, or tablecloths, piled high in his backpack propelled him forward. Bogging him down with financial responsibility. His dark eyes sparkled. 

  “Look,” he pointed to one of his blankets, shaking the sand off. He proved his case. Always smiling.

    I wondered about his background. Was he Sicilian, or had he relocated as an immigrant from some war-ravaged country? And, how did he procure his wares? As a former journalist, I’m permanently curious. 

   “Bellissimo!” we four travelers announced. Somehow the entrepreneur heard us. Or he intuited how undecided we were about buying one of his blankets. Four times he returned to egg us on, until my partner, Marc, encouraged us to support him. Marc bought two blankets, at $10 each.

 Our friend Claire chose the second blanket, covered with blue sea creatures. She imagined it bringing a smile to her grandchildren’s faces, back in Maine.

  “Where are you from?” I asked him.

   “Morocco,” he replied. I figured he was happy to be gone from his country, following its recent devastating earthquake. 

   Could he make more money than at home? Had he left his family there? What was his story?

    I would never know. But I wanted to. I enjoy making up stories about people, and I’m not shy about talking to strangers. On this trip to Sicily one of my fondest memories was splashing around in the Mediterranean with fifty or so strangers after jumping off a boat anchored near the lovely Egadi Islands. 

  I felt like a happy-go-lucky kid in an international camp – where I heard Australian, German, French, and other accents I couldn’t identify. Bobbing in the salty sea, I spoke with a young Argentinian woman who had moved to Sicily two years before. Looking for a better life. Without having to sell coconuts or beach blankets. Yeah, I wondered, what was her story? I didn’t have enough time to get it all.

  Back at the Cefalu beach, I was happy when we initiated more sales for the young entrepreneur, perhaps in his twenties. Others waved him down to purchase his blankets. We got into the act, trying to convince a blond British woman lying on the beach next to us. She didn’t buy a blanket but we had a enlightening conversation about our parallel visits to Sicily.

Splashing off the island of Levanzo in the Egadi Islands

   We agreed that Sicily was gorgeous and so diverse for travelers who could afford to make the trip.  Driving from busy, wild Palermo; to a golden thousand-year-old Greek temple on a Segesta hilltop; to Trapani, where a last-minute booking to the Egadi Islands turned out to be a trip highlight; to the Italian TV show’s Montalbano beach house in Punta Secca; to Ragusa, where a political conversation with a local young council member infuriated me; to Modica, where we spent an hour choosing “the world’s best chocolate”; to walking the island of Ortigia’s perimeter umpteen times; to the enticing Santa Venerina resort with the Mediterranean below us and Mount Etna above us.

Wisps of smoke on tops of Mt. Etna were seen from miles away. The smoke seemed to increase at night, but it was always present

All this prior to reaching Cefalu, Sicily’s small beach town, where we connected with the young entrepreneur. 

     He blew kisses our way as he strode away, down the beach, bent over with his wares. Still smiling.

    “Optum, optum!” I sent kisses back to him in Turkish, the only words I knew in a language possibly close to his. I may forget parts of our Sicily vacation. I’m not sure why, but I won’t forget him.

Posted in Baby Boomers, Old friends, The Rest of the World, travel | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Book-Banning Befuddles Me

Posted on September 4, 2023 by sheilawill

In the Sept. 3 New York Times I read”This Summer, I Became the Book-BanningMonster of Iowa” by Bridgette Exman. A former high school English teacher, now the assistant superintendent of curriculum and instruction for public schools in Mason City, Iowa, her column befuddled me.

Exman has some power as an administrator. She doesn’t like book-banning in classrooms and school libraries. What did she do to fight it?

Sure, she has to adhere to legal constraints. Iowa’s “parental rights bill” became effective on July 1, mandating that school libraries must contain only “age-appropriate books” with no description of “a sex act.”

I’m not going to argue with Iowa’s inappropriate law, which harnesses all students in one barn. (Thankfully, I live in Minnesota, whose legislature would never pass such a stultifying bill.)

What befuddles me is Exman’s response to the law.

Did she testify against it?

I don’t care how she instituted the law, which she tells us in detail.

As a former English teacher who “read, enjoyed, and taught many of these books”that are now banned, did she rebel at all?

“There are no winners in the game of censorship,” she wrote. She’s right about that.

I would have preferred to read about her battle to retain one especially beloved (Beloved?) book she hoped students in mostly lily-white Iowa might have benefitted from reading.

Exman reports, “Our district has not had a formal challenge” to a library book in over two decades, indicating that parents must be okay with what their children are reading.

Could she have spoken up for a book that was on the chopping block? Even a sentence or two would have shown the importance of making an attempt.

I understand that Exman’s job may have been threatened if she rebelled.

Did she make a case for a book she felt was important for high schoolers to read? She might have been heard in her school district.

What if more parents went to testify against the bill in the Iowa State Legislature?

Do teachers and parents have the right to speak up? What did she learn about so-called newly assigned parents rights as law? (Parents have always had the right to speak up about their children’s education.)

The last line of her column especially befuddled me: “That’s why we must protect our public schools from the political agendas that are hobbling them.”

Tell me, Ms. Exman, what did you do? That’s what I want to know.

Posted in America WTF?, Fight wimpiness, For Love of History, Politics, Read, Read, Read, The inconvenient truth about education | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Adults can still read what they want, right?

Posted on August 27, 2023 by sheilawill
Politicians are clamping down on freedom to learn in schools. Isn’t that why schools exist, or is it to promulgate parents rights bullshit?

There’s no systemic racism in the United States, these politicians claim.

Slavery taught the oppressed some beneficial skills, says the Florida governor and his ilk.

Why tell the truth when it might make children uncomfortable…or perhaps knowledgeable?

Who are these fear mongers kidding?
Aug 23, 2023Fear Is the Watchword in Public EducationA wave of legislation purporting to advance “parental rights” is actually undermining them. In a new report, Educational Intimidation: How ‘Parents’ Rights’ Legislation Undermines the Freedom to Learn, we document nearly 400 state legislative bills that allow extremists to override the views of the majority, micromanage classrooms, and disempower teachers, librarians, and school administrators. And, one governor who vetoed a bill described it as turning teachers into “pronoun police.” (PEN America)

Two books I wish every American adult would read:

The Warmth of Other Suns. The Epic Story of America’s Great Migration by Isabel Wilkerson (2010). It’s a Pulitzer Prize Winner that clued me in to the systemic racism in this country, in the North as well as the South. An important place to start.

The Devil You Know. A Black Power Manifesto by Charles M. Blow (2021). From my favorite NYTimes columnist, hands down. In his latest book he imagines how Southern Blacks can assume more power. Why he moved from New York to Atlanta. Powerful.

Charles Blow has been the most straightforward, incisive, provocative writer through the horrendous rise of he-who-shall-not-be named.

Many teachers are afraid of losing their jobs in repressive-leaning communities. Parents, grandparents, friends of children, I implore you to educate yourselves. Learn real history. Speak up!

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Posted in America WTF?, Fight wimpiness, For Love of History, Politics, Read, Read, Read, The inconvenient truth about education | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Banning and Censoring Books is UnAmerican!

Posted on August 19, 2023 by sheilawill

I’m so dismayed by the banning and censoring of children’s books I’m going to recommend new titles as often as I have a few minutes: First is The Giver by Lois Lowry, published in 1993.

One of my all-time favorites, The Giver, has been banned, censored, and/or removed from libraries/schools/reading lists more than 11,000 times.

Why? There are some mild sexual references.

But The Giver reminds me of what’s happening in our country today: fascist elements. There’s no other way to say it.

One person in the book is the repository of all history. Damn, you know, the truth is just too uncomfortable. That person is chosen at age 12, like Jonas, is the ONE whose story this tells.

All other twelve year olds receive their life assignment at that time, too. No questioning. Does this sound familiar in our current world? Republican Party members must be totally adherent to he-who -must-not-be-names.

There’s no color or conflict or poverty or unemployment or injustice in Jonas’s world. Just as cult Republicans must be in denial of all their untruths and craziness.

If you’ve never read this fantastically prescient and provocative — YES! — book, I highly recommend it. Let me know what you think (the key word, THINK, WHICH WE NEED SO MUCH MORE OF IN TODAY’S FORLORN SOCIETY.

In my book, reading always helps.

Posted in America WTF?, Fight wimpiness, For Love of History, Politics, Read, Read, Read | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Small Epiphany on Lone Wolf Loop

Posted on July 20, 2023 by sheilawill

Popping wild blueberries into my mouth, gorging on the sweetest tiny raspberries ever, is a thrill for this woods woman, this lover of nature.

We’re here for the week with Marc’s family at Northern Air cabins in Ely, Minnesota. A far cry from the exorbitant heat in the Twin Cities. It has rained all week. Last night it poured, offering soothing sounds in the North Woods darkness.

Like in Maine, where I’m from, wild blueberries make me happy. They’re tiny this year, having kept to themselves in the drought. Until this week.

I usually think: Wow, if only I could read books nonstop in a lovely spot, which is what happened during this past week. Finished two books, half-finished two others. As much as I love reading I was a little bored hanging out inside.

The Lone Wolf Loop, a 45-minute hike on the property where we’re staying, speaks to me. On today’s one-hour hike I experienced a small epiphany.

When I was fifteen, my father was partially paralyzed. He lived in a rehab center in Shelton, Connecticut, about 40 minutes from our Waterbury home. My mother didn’t drive. I illegally drove her twice weekly to see my dad, when I wasn’t working as a cashier at a discount department store or folding children’s clothes in a retail store.

My father was in his sixties and had had a cerebral hemorrhage. Young men paralyzed from motorcycle accidents, or who knows what, filled a number of other beds. This was totally depressing to someone my age, just starting out in life, imagining all that could happen over the years.

My only way out was walking around the rehab center’s wooded property, which harbored broken men like fallen tree branches. Saved me. Saved me. Saved me.

Hiking with imagined wolves following me this morning, it hit me. Being alone in nature, surrounded by ferns of all sizes, assorted leaves blowing in the breeze, and tasty wild blueberry patches, still sustains me.

Posted in Nature Girl, Read, Read, Read | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment