Tag Archives: Reflections

A Roundabout Trip to a Windy Beach

Carol A. Hand

A morning call from my daughter changed my Saturday plans.

Do you want to go to Park Point for the annual yard sale?

Sure,” I replied. “

“Awesome! Ava and I will pick you up in about an hour.”

The annual sale is an event we have often attended, even when I lived far from Duluth. I remember trips with my grandson years before my granddaughter was born twelve years ago. Some years, the weather has meant a sweltering thirsty journey in mid-June as we walked along miles of the narrow roadway crowded with parked cars and new arrivals looking for empty spaces.

My daughter and granddaughter – Park Point, June 15, 2019

This year’s trip was a different story. It was cold in the morning when we arrived. Strong blustery east winds were whipping up waves along the Lake Superior shoreline, making the mid-50 F degree temperature feel more like winter. Warnings were posted, advising visitors to stay out of the water due to the danger of rip currents.

Rough surf on Lake Superior – June 15, 2019

The Park Point neighborhood has a fascinating history. It is located on what was once a narrow seven-mile sandy peninsula that extended into the lake from the southwestern shore of Lake Superior. The Anishinaabe (also known as the Ojibwe, Ojibway, or Chippewa) had established a community, Onigamiinsing – the “little portage.” The first recorded European visitor arrived in Onigamiinsing in 1679, Daniel Greysolon, Sieur du Lhut, a French soldier and explorer (Wikipedia; Klefstad, 2012).

“By 1852, the first non-Indian resident, George Stuntz, had established three buildings for a trading post and living space” (Klefstad, 2012, para. 4).

Land for the new city was ceded by the Ojibwe to the United States in the 1854 Treaty of La Pointe.  (More information about the treaty can be found at the following links: Wikipedia and MNopedia.) According to a report based on the U.S. Census, American Indians comprised 2.4% of Duluth’s population by the year 2000 (Gilly, Gangl, & Skoog, n.d.). The authors of the county report suggest that American Indians, like the majority of other people of color, were concentrated in Duluth’s poorest neighborhoods and less likely to live in neighborhoods like Park Point.

The settlers who arrived in the 1800s named their new home “Duluth” in honor of the first European visitor and began transforming the environment.

“By 1871, the long peninsula became an island when Duluth dug out the ship canal that separates the Point from Canal Park, the other part of Minnesota Point. After nearly 20 years, Park Point reunited with the mainland with the 1905 opening of Duluth’s signature structure, the Aerial Bridge, first as a suspended ferry, later as a lift-span roadway” (Klefstad, 2012. para. 7).

We had a chance to witness the arrival of a huge ship through the Arial Lift Bridge as a long line of cars waited to cross to the mainland. The photos I took didn’t turn out, but here is a link to a video from one of the cams that shows the arrival of a sea-worthy vessel.

I did capture a couple shots of the bridge as we left Park Point on the only road that connects it now to the mainland.

View of Duluth Arial Lift Bridge from Park Point

We walked at least a mile or two down one side of the street and back on the other side. We passed the wetlands preserve on the bayside of the island/peninsula.

Lake Superior Wetlands Preserve

And we stopped to visit most of the yards and garages where a wide assortment of items were on display – clothing, dishes, art work, photography, toys, etc. I didn’t intend to buy anything but couldn’t resist the wool winter hat hand-crafted for Alaskan winters. I needed it yesterday morning in the cold wind!

Serendipity also led us to a photographer we visited last year when my daughter and I both bought framed pictures from him. This year, we merely stopped to look and chat and met a delightful blogger, Allyson Engelstad, who shares her photos and reflections on her beautiful blog. I encourage anyone who loves to learn about nature to visit her lovely site, penncosect24.

I couldn’t resist the gliding rocking chair for sale at a price far, far less than the battered ones I have seen in thrift stores. (My granddaughter offered to lend me the money to buy it because I left my purse in the car.)  It’s sturdy and comfortable. Maybe someday I will change the upholstery on the cushions. Or maybe not. I used to sew and made most of my daughter’s clothes when she was little, but the doll I began making for my granddaughter more than twelve years ago when she was a baby still needs to be finished. (You’ll have to use your imagination to figure out what the upholstery looks like. I don’t think it’s worth a photo…)

Before we left for home, we visited the windy beach on the lakeside of the island/peninsula.

As we headed home, I couldn’t resist taking pictures of some of the interesting sights in the city.

I enjoyed the break from working on cleaning up my yard and gardens. There is plenty of work still waiting and a manuscript to finish editing that is haunting me as well. I just wanted to share something along with my best wishes to all before I immerse myself in work again.

Work Cited:

Jane Gilley, Jim Gangl, and Jim Skoog (n.d.). St. Louis County Health Status Report. Available from St. Louis County Department of Health and Human Services at https://www.stlouiscountymn.gov/Portals/0/Library/Dept/Public%20Health%20and%20Human%20Services/SLC-Health-Status-Report.pdf.

Ann Klefstad (2012, May 29). Park Point: Life on the World’s Longest Freshwater Sandbar. Lake Superior Magazine. Available at https://www.lakesuperior.com/travel/minnesota/325parkpoint/

Mothers’ Day Reflections – May 12, 2019

Carol A. Hand

Walking down the street of a once thriving tourist town

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Two Harbors, MN – May 12, 2019

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I wonder about the stories these old buildings hold

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Two Harbors, MN – May 12, 2019

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about The Oldest Sister and the Muffin Makers
and those who spent their summers here long ago

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Enjoying Lake Superior – May 12, 2019

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I wonder if the superior lake carries memories
through all time of those who once visited her shore

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Family Celebrating Mothers’ Day – May 12, 2019

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Rainy Day Reflections

Carol A. Hand

Rainy Day Reflections – March 27, 2019
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Greeting the morning
listening
to the sounds of the awakening city
the loud constant whirring of traffic
on wet pavement just before school starts
joined by deep thrumming in the distance
as the train whistle sounds and the school bell shrills
Sounds crescendoing accompanied by thunder
rumbling in the distance then booming overhead

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Retreating inside
listening
to the refrigerator quietly humming
before my dog and parakeet awaken
to greet the morning with song

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I miss the long ago sounds of the forest
but I have to believe there’s a reason
for being here now
questioning
whether simple loving actions matter
contemplating
the importance of purpose,
perspicacity, persistence, and patience
as the storm moves on to the east,
clouds clear and traffic sounds fade
allowing bird song to be heard once again
as my little dog awakens and explores the new day
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“I think I’ll try to climb up the steps.”
“I know I can do this!”
“I can do this, too!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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For My Daughter

Carol A. Hand

I feel your concern as I walk slowly now
trudging up and down hills or on icy sidewalks
following behind as you lead the way
heading toward a future that is yours alone
I need to travel at my own pace – sure-footed
to avoid adding to the burdens I know you carry

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Loving you means trusting life and letting you go onward
accepting the limitations of a frail aging frame with grace
watching you with love, compassion, joy, and heavy sadness
remembering conundral choices that I suspect hurt you
hoping one day you will understand that loving you deeply
gave me courage to face daunting challenges to keep you safe

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My daughter, Turns Falls, Massachusetts, 1975

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Yesterday, March 5th, was my granddaughter’s twelfth birthday. We had a lovely family celebration. But it’s a date that always makes me feel both deeply grateful, and deeply guilty.

I was traveling when I learned that my daughter was in the hospital giving birth to her daughter prematurely. In the midst of a powerful late winter snowstorm, the airports were closed in both of the cities where my daughter and I were. Renting a car to drive hundreds of miles through the storm wasn’t an option. There was no way I could be there. I could only fly home to a distant state the next day while the storm continued to batter the city where my daughter was.

When the airport reopened on the third day, I was faced with a conundrum. I was carrying heavy responsibilities for gifted, at-risk graduate students in a university that was unsupportive of those who were different in some way. If I left again to be with my daughter, it was likely their graduation would, at best, be delayed. I decided to send my partner, my daughter’s stepfather for most of her life, to be there instead. It was several months before I held my granddaughter for the first time.

All of the students I was advising graduated, many passing their final requirements with distinction, and they went on to careers helping vulnerable people. Yet, I know my daughter was deeply hurt. I will always wonder if I made the “right” choice, just as I will always remember that her birth was the greatest gift in my life.

Reflections about Detachment

Carol A. Hand

You tried to take it all
but it was never enough
to fill the insatiable void
you carried deep within
Ultimately you taught me
a valuable lesson

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wounded

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Detachment –
the art of letting go of my ego’s needs –
for attention, relationships,
approval from others,
or holding on tightly
to anything I loved

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Unencumbered I was free
to live my life as I pleased
The gifts I’ve given freely
bore the fruit of a worthwhile life
and helped my spirit grow
in ways you may never know

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healing

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You say you’re proud of my accomplishments?
We’re family and I should listen to history revised?
Naw… I’m done with that.
Compassion, forgiveness, and wisdom don’t require one
to continue a charade based on illusions
as a partner in the dance of perpetual mutual rewounding

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What I can give you out of kindness is distance and space
and my sincere wish that one day you will discover
and learn to celebrate your own accomplishments

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Neither One Thing Nor Another

Carol A. Hand

 

Catfish or Eagle Clan? (drawing by Carol A. Hand, photo of drawing edited)

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Born in between
neither one thing nor another
a mercurial shape-shifter
one moment flying high
above the clouds
the next plunging
to the murky depths
of nutrient rich swamp bottoms
where the roots of water lilies feed
experiencing both
the freedom of flight and far-vision
and swimming deep
surrounded by the rich abundance of possibilities
exploring alternatives and seeking wisdom
rather than choosing
to remain in the darkness
constrained by conforming ignorance
and spirit-freezing fear

 

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Morning Greeting – October 10, 2018

Carol A. Hand

Greeting a blustery morning
through rain-dusted lenses
witnessing and listening to the storm
blaring sirens barely audible
above the sound of roaring wind
Trees twisting, bending, and bowing
in the fierce gusty northeast blow
still-green leaves covering the earth
ripped prematurely from their branches
a blessings perhaps given the coming snow

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Stormy Morning – October 10, 2018

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Sending healing purple light
to my relatives, the trees
the cottonwoods, willows, and maples
the spruces, birch, and aspens
the crabapple and mountain ash
heavily laden with ripening fruit
may they all survive this and coming storms
until their life’s purpose is complete

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Heavy-Laden Crabapple Tree – October 10, 2018

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Grateful for a simple little house
that stood through the stormy night
an often taken-for-granted luxury
in a world where so many are without
safety, sustenance, or shelter
Reconfirming my intention
to remember moment to moment
to live with wisdom, compassion, and joy
despite the storms along the way

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Fourth Year Anniversary Reflections

Carol A. Hand

Yesterday, my blog turned four years old. I still wonder what led me to blogging. Initially I thought it was the stockpile of unpublished reflections and stories I wanted to share. They were stories based on a particular perspective as an outsider who wasn’t content with merely pointing out injustice and oppression. My work has always involved trying to solve puzzles and experiment with possible constructive solutions from a critical view. It seemed fitting to name my blog Voices from the Margins.

After a couple years, though, I ran out of those old reflections. So I began to experiment with different topics and ways to write. I also learned a little bit about photography using my old digital cameras. I kept blogging because of the dear friends I met here in the blogosphere. Although few of my original friends still blog, new friends have filled the void.

I have no illusions that my photos or blog posts are great works of art. But I do have fun creating them and sharing them with others.

On this anniversary, I wondered what comes next. I find myself re-engaging with the world a little more and taking on long-ignored home repair projects. The title of the blog still holds true, but perhaps the blurb about my blog needs a bit of updating. There are all kinds of issues I could write about from a critical frame, but so many others do that far better. What is less common are those who look both critically and gratefully at what is and ask how this informs practical everyday choices.

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January 30, 2018

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Increasingly, my posts are deliberately a little like the bright moon on a dark night peeking through tree branches. Reflected light that flows through me, meant to provide solace and encourage creative, peaceful, constructive, thoughts and actions in a time of darkness.

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Januray 30, 2018

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These days, though, like the moon, my presence is not always visible. I am woefully behind replying to comments and reciprocating visits to other’s blogs. I apologize. I will try to do a better job because your friendship and what you share matters. I am always touched by the work you do.

But I do become micro-focused, like yesterday, when I had intended to share this post and visit blogs. I became so intent on finishing my newest project, sanding an old window frame, that I failed to stop and see the beauty of the day. I only saw the birch tree lit by the sun in a clear blue sky after I took a photo to record my progress.

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Window Frame Repair in Progress

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Today, I will take time to thank you all for being an important presence in my life.