Emily has become the world’s best mom — before, during and after Svea was born. (Kyle, you’re the best dad, but this isn’t your day) She has followed in the footsteps of her own mom and has done everything the right way, the smart way and the loving way. I won’t say I’m amazed, because I knew she would be like this, but I’m thrilled and honored that she’s my daughter.
A week ago today, without even thinking, I put on an old grey sweatshirt I’ve had since 1996 but have probably not worn for several years. It wasn’t until after hearing about the horror in Boston last Monday that I thought about the shirt I’d worn the night before. It was an inexpensive sweatshirt with the word “BOSTON” printed on it that I’d bought it as a souvenir of my trip to run the Boston Marathon 17 years ago. I got a chill when I realized I hadn’t even remembered that it was marathon weekend until I heard about the bombings the next afternoon.
Yesterday I wore a Twin Cities Marathon shirt to the health club, as I often do. A woman walking by me said, “good to see you guys wearing your shirts”. I looked around and two other people near me had marathon shirts on, too — but they were from other races. I wondered why a stranger would say she was glad to see the shirts. As I watched some of the endless reports about the tragedy on the TV screens while running on the treadmill, it dawned on me that she might have been referring to our shirts as a sign of support for the people at the Boston race.
As I chugged away on the treadmill — 17 years older, 20 pounds heavier and a LOT slower — memories of my big race day flooded back to me. I thought about the bus ride to the little town of Hopkinton, part of the enormous field of runners (almost 40,000) who ran that year to commemorate the 100th anniversary of this unique and historic event. I remembered the exhilaration of the start and the energy created by the river of thousands of runners flowing through the countryside and small towns on the first part of the course. I could picture the huge billboards with old black and white photos from the early races. But most of all, I remember the people, the spectators, all along the course. They were there to cheer on the runners, to be sure, but really they were there to cheer for the community — to cheer for themselves and for each other. There were bands, there were Patriots Day parties, there were kids up in trees, there were people wearing (and painted in) red, white and blue all along the way. All were cheerful, all were proud and all were glad to be part of this American spectacle.
I think an urban marathon is a community event in ways that no other sporting event can match. It’s about so much more than just the athletes. Think about it — you can walk up to the course at any point and (free of charge) literally touch everyone from a world-class runner down to a plodding 6-hour jogger. The race cuts right through neighborhoods and downtown streets — no need to drive to a suburban stadium or buy an expensive ticket at a downtown arena.
Over the past week, the people of Boston have shown what they’re made of. They’ve shown the rest of us how to handle unthinkable tragedy — just like New Town has recently, just like New York City did in 2001, just like Oklahoma City before that, and just like other communities who have suffered severe trauma. None of us know for sure how we will react when and if it’s our turn, but this week we can take strength from watching and listening to the people of Boston. Because they are strong and resilient — even defiant — we believe that we can be, too.
The bombers chose a big event, an important event, an event with easy access, to spread their particular brand of terror. What they didn’t realize is that they chose an event in a city that will not shrink in fear and ultimately will be stronger, not weaker because of their actions. My deepest sympathy to those directly affected last Monday and my thanks to the people of Boston for what you’ve taught us.
I’m wearing my BOSTON sweatshirt as I type this and I’m going to be wearing it a lot for a while. It’s an honor to have had the chance to be a miniscule part of the history of this great event and great city.
Thank you to my family.
Thank you to my friends — then and now.
Thank you to Anne S.
Thank you to the Thursday evening meeting at First Universalist.
Thank you to whatever and whomever helped me to give up the fight and finally get better.
May we all gain the wisdom to know the difference between what we change and what we accept.
This is not a day for congratulations for something accomplished, but a day to be grateful for what I’ve received.
Here’s to one more day.
Svea June Cedermark, my first grandchild, arrived on the planet Earth 7 months and 19 days ago. I want you to meet her.
Everyone thinks they have the cutest grandchild in the world, but come ON, people, is there really any doubt here?
I don’t have the words to adequately describe the kind of joy she brings to everyone around her.
I don’t think any grandparent every gets to see their little ones as much as they wish they could, so I can’t complain. But I love every minute with her and can’t wait to see her again in a few days.
When my days seem dark, I look through my photos of her on my computer and her light illuminates my face with happiness.
Thank you, my little Sweetie, for shining your light. I hope some day I can repay you.
See you soon.
Back in September, I got a wonderful opportunity to do a weekly photo-based “blog” for MinnPost called View Finder. It’s been great for me. I love taking pictures and giving myself little assignments. Some weeks have been easier than others. Some groups of photos have been better than others, but I like the experience and the opportunity to show my photos. But that project has been kind of draining my blogging energy.
I miss writing about stuff. When I started this blog almost two years ago, I didn’t realize that I would enjoy writing or be any good at it. Writing about whatever interested me — coupled with a few photos — made me more thoughtful and forced me to take time to organize and package my thinking. I’ve gotten away from that. I need to get back to it soon — not because anyone else needs to read it, but because I need to write it.
My last two blog posts have basically been promotions for my first 10 MinnPost View Finders. I’ve now done 18 weeks of it. So continuing my tradition of self aggrandizement, here are my 8 most recent View Finders with links to the MinnPost page where they are found. You can also find all my View Finders on my personal archive page on my See to Sea Productions website.
I hope that I’ll soon have something else to say.
This is another blog post about the other blog posts I’ve been doing for MinnPost, called “ViewFinder”. Maybe it’s a little like looking into the mirror at the barbershop that is reflecting the mirror on the opposite wall, where you see yourself repeated in diminishing size off into infinity. But I like showing the various things I’m working on in different ways to different audiences. Call it shameless cross-self-promotion if you wish.
I’ve done the weekly ViewFinder blog for 10 weeks. It’s a photo-driven entity, but I do some writing as well, mainly to introduce the photos. In my newest post, which is running in MinnPost today, I’ve also added a short video.
Here are links to my 5 most recent ViewFinder posts. If you’d like an easy way to find the first 5 I did, you can go to my previous post on this site.
A couple of months ago, the editors at MinnPost asked me if I’d be interested in doing a weekly blog for them. They suggested a photo-based format that would feature a variety of subjects from week to week — events, places, people — anything that I find visually interesting. I thought about it . . . for about a second . . . and then jumped at the chance. It was a generous offer and an amazing opportunity to let me give myself a weekly photo assignment and have a forum for sharing it.
This week I posted my fifth “View Finder” piece, a group of pictures about the section of the Mississippi River that flows between Minneapolis and St. Paul south of St. Anthony Falls. The fall colors had peaked and were beginning to fade.
Here are my first 5 View Finder posts. Just click the blue link to go to the MinnPost page.
Monarch Butterfly Festival at Lake Nokomis
September 15, 2011
My love affair with Keller Golf Course
September 22, 2011
Revisiting Highway 61
September 29. 2011
Twin Cities Marathon
October 7, 2011
Exploring the Mississippi River Gorge
October 13, 2011
Life has its turning points. The little town of Coalwood, West Virginia represents a big one for me. It was after visiting the October Sky Festival there in 2005 that I decided to make a documentary film about the town. Who knows why. I had no experience as a filmmaker, no camera, no concept of all that it takes to video a video production of that scale.
In October of 2009, after a half-dozen more trips to Coalwood and four years of learning a few skills, a dream came true as I was able to go back to Coalwood and hand-deliver a DVD of “Welcome to Coalwood” to each of the people who had appeared in the film or helped me make it and personally thank them for welcoming me into their homes and letting me into their lives.
That 2009 trip was emotional for me, as some of the people were getting on in years and others had experienced major life changes. I’ll never forget the heartfelt thanks and hugs I received from these wonderful people just because I took an interest in them and their little town. It didn’t matter to them that the film wasn’t the highest-quality production or that it was made by a beginner.
Homer Hickam had put Coalwood on the map a decade earlier with his wonderful memoir, Rocket Boys, which was made into the movie October Sky. My project covered some of the same ground, but in a different way — by finding people from the old days who were still around to tell the history of the town as they remembered it.
My biggest initial motivation for attempting to make the film was to preserve on video some of the older people that I’d met. In fact, when I drove down there with my daughter Emily in the summer of 2006 to do my first shooting, I really didn’t know what I was doing — but I felt a sense of urgency to record some of them before it was too late.
I’m glad I did. Since I’ve made the film, several wonderful Coalwood residents who were “stars” in my film, including Red Carroll, Gene Turpin and Fred Beavers have died. Katie Jones has since move away, as has Janice McClure.
The Company Store, one of the two most import existing buildings in town, was torn down just as I was finishing the film, dealing a crushing blow to any historic preservation effort.
It’s really hard to explain to some people why that little, falling-down town grabbed me, but the fact is, it did. I’ve given up trying to explain it. It’s like trying to explain why you fell in love.
I’m a big believer in the importance of place. We all have places that we are emotionally connected to. For most of us those places are not famous or well-known, but they have meaning to us and represent something deeply important in our lives.
Coalwood is one of my special places. It changed my life.
The October Sky Festival is today. I should be there and regret that I’m not.
To the people of Coalwood: I’ll be thinking about you all day today. Thank you for what you’ve given me.
I’ve missed two October Sky Festivals in a row. I can only hope that there will be another one next year.
If you’d like to see some of my other Coalwood-related posts, here are the links:
I like to make photographs. But quite often, after an initial quick look, they get forgotten in my computer’s photo library.
I want to change that, so I’ve decided to make an effort to find and post one of my old photos each day. My motivation for doing this is strictly selfish. I want to make myself take the time to find one visual image that I’ve made, stop and say, “I think that one turned out OK”, and think about a memory it brings. I’ve started putting them on a website I’m calling “365 Moments”.
I’m not sure if I’ve got 365 good ones, but I’m going to give it a shot. My choices will be arbitrary — random looks at days from the past, with no regard to subject matter. I’m simply looking for photos that grab my attention.
I started doing this daily on August 1st, and now have enough photos posted to start sharing them with you. Perhaps they’ll help you connect to a memory of your own, who knows? Click here to view the ones I have up so far.
(Note: To see my first “great bike rides” post from about a year ago, go here)
I used to think “The Grand Rounds” was a rather pretentious name added in modern times to the more than 125-year old string of parkways that wind through the city of Minneapolis. But I recently learned that the term dates back to 1891, when William Watts Folwell used it to describe landscape architect Horace Cleveland’s masterful proposal made to the newly-formed Minneapolis Board of Park Commissioners 8 years earlier. Now that I know the name is that old, I like it.Minneapolis has one of the best urban park systems in the world. We would have none of it today but for the vision, forethought, and actions of an amazing string of parks commissioners (along with Cleveland’s detailed plans) in the late 19th and early 20th century, including Charles Loring, William Berry and Theodore Wirth.
I’ve biked most of this route many times, but never as a whole. So a couple of days ago, I decided it was time to grab my camera and saddle up. I’d seen different numbers for the total mileage — usually 50-53 miles, but I also knew that included some dead-end spurs. I decided to just do the main, basic route and see how it works as a loop.
Cleveland’s idea was to tie together some of the most beautiful parts of the city in such a way that you could make the whole trip without ever leaving a park-like setting. For the most part, it does that very well. The Minneapolis chain of lakes, along with the Mississippi River and Minnehaha Creek, are well-known treasures, but the ride also includes some impressive boulevards in the city’s northern areas. Most of the route is, indeed, “grand”, but there’s a short “missing link” of about 3 miles in the northeastern part of the ride that isn’t terribly scenic. Many plans have been proposed over the years to finish it, but so far it’s still missing. A variety of street options traverse the gap and get you downtown to join up with the river.
Since I live a couple of block from Minnehaha Creek, I bike and run the southern part of the Grand Rounds a lot, but the beauty of the creek and the lakes never gets old. A quick loop around the lakes or a run around Lake Harriet never fails to lift my spirits.
My grand tour the other day ended up totaling about 37 miles. As I said, there are other ways to do it that add more mileage. The route also intersects with a lot of other bike paths on which you could wander all day. It’s a great city for biking.
Here are a bunch of photos from my trip. Along the way, I somehow lost my little notebook that I was writing the mileage in at photo stops (imagine me losing something), so the mile numbers are from “Map My Ride” and are approximate — also, of course, pretty meaningless unless you start at my house. But if you ever do want to start at my house, give me a call and I’ll go with you. It’s a great urban ride.