LHSC Halloween Psychic Fair

Sat., Oct. 31st, 10 AM to 5 PM & Sun., Nov. 1st, 1 PM to 5 PM

     I've attended the Psychic Fair twice, and I look forward to attending again this weekend with my old college friend, Penny.  The Lake Harriet Spiritual Community, located just blocks from Lake Harriet, in the Linden Hills region of Minneapolis, welcomes all faiths.  It is inclusive, rather than exclusive, like so many religions tend to be.

While in the Linden Hills neighborhood, be sure and stop in for a treat at a local restaurant or start your holiday shopping by visiting some of the little shops.

My friend, Sarah, and her mom attended the spring Pyschic Fair, and Sarah told me her experience was unbelievable.  The medium told her incredible details about her loved ones on the other side who had some great advise for her. Now, if she'd only listen.  I got to hear from my maternal grandparents, who passed away decades ago, and that made me happy. 

If you've ever been curious about visiting a psychic, this is a good safe place to do it - and you have a choice of over a dozen intuitives for tarot card readings, healers, mediums and other specialties.  What could be a more perfect way to celebrate Halloween, when the veil is the thinnest between us and the unknown?

When Melanie and I were driving along the river-bottom road near Morton, Minnesota, we came across a couple of men in space suits.  OK, they weren't really space suits, but they looked like spacesuits.  We were curious, so we pulled up next to them and I said, "Hi there.  Whuddya doing?"  Pretty cheeky, right? And kind of corny too, since it seemed pretty obvious they were doing something with beehives, and also, it was none of my business.

Fortunately, these men weren't as scary as they looked, and educated us on the ways of bees.  Since it's autumn, it seems it's time for the bees to move from the north, here in Minnesota, south to Texas to make honey.

Imagine that.  I had no idea that bees worked a circuit.  After Texas, they'll be heading on to California to make California honey.  What in the world?

We also learned that the hybrid crops farmers plant now do not provide the kind of nourishment for bees that the old fashioned crops did.  The bee keeper explained it was probably a type of mite that has been wiping out the bee population, as reported in the news fairly recently.  We also learned that bee keepers are nice, and smart, and get to travel to different states.  Turns out there is a lot more to this business than I had ever imagined.

Chief Ernest Wabasha, of the Mdewakanton Tribe in Morton, Minnesota

Melanie and I traveled to southwestern Minnesota to visit with her good friends, Chief Ernest Wabasha and his beautiful  wife, Vernell, at the Dacotah Ridge golf club, which, I was advised, is one of the finest courses in the state.  It certainly is lovely in its primitive setting.  

Vernell Wabasha

We were also joined by a couple of engaging young women, Teri and Marisa, from their clinic, where Melanie had worked years ago.  Melanie arranged the visit at my request, to help me get a sense of the Native American perspective of history in the Minnesota river valley. 

Teri and Marisa from the Lower Sioux Clinic

I felt a little bit like a groupie allowed backstage.  Chief Wabasha looked stern and dignified, though when he spoke, he turned out to be a bit of a joker.  You can see the kindness written all over his wife's face, and I wondered how they could approach life with such joy after hearing about the hurdles their nation has had to overcome to become the leaders they are today. 

As for me,  I felt very humbled and guilty by association.  The truth of the Native American story is a hard one to listen to, and I don't believe we white kids have been given the stories straight.  How did this group of people, terrorized by intruders, and attempting to save their families and land become known as savages? I'm just asking.  But, it seems like the lie we hear first is the story we remember, and it is a trick still being used today.  Lie first, retract later.  The damage is done.

Warehouse at the Lower Sioux History Center

It's been years since the holocaust in the Minnesota river valley, which reduced the Native American population by roughly 95%, and it's clear many scars still remain.  How could they not?  But it seems that, even though we could expect to be viewed as a perpetual enemy of the tribes, they have wisely chosen, instead, to practice the art of forgiveness. Which isn't the same as forgetting. 

Melanie asked what has changed the most in the Minnesota river valley since white people have become stewards of the land, and Vernell stated it was the river, itself.  What once flowed clear and deep in a beautiful valley is now shallow and tired.  Ever the optimist, I believe the pendulum will be swinging back.  Bit by bit. 

I left our lunch saddened and enlightened, and thrilled to have just spend a couple of hours with the Wabashas.  Darn.  I should have asked for an autograph.

Earlier this year, while Melanie and I were exploring the eastern shore of the Mississippi river, we drove through a sweet little village called Maiden Rock, Wisconsin, where Melanie made one of her sudden turn arounds and pulled up in front of Basil's, an antique shop operated by Minnesota artist, Laurence Schultz.

I found Schultz's art extremely appealing with it's rich colors and impressionistic style. His red rowboats were my favorite. 

But, what really won me over at Basil's were the cutout images of the artist's mom, a former opera singer.  She was all over the store.

Isn't she fabulous?

I loved the feeling at Basil's with it's warm colors, variety of antiques, and vintage setting on the bluff overlooking the Mississippi river.  I'd say more about it, but I think the pictures speak for themselves.

So much for subtlety, but have you seen this place and felt the history?  Oh my goodness, the deal-making and romances that must have gone on in these rooms.

  My friend Melanie, and I, had the opportunity to tour the University Club on Summit Avenue one hot afternoon, recently.  By the time we got there, my clothes were sticking to me and my bangs were plastered to my forehead, so I was feeling somewhat less than glamorous, but once I started looking around, I almost forgot who I was.

For just a moment, I was a confidante of  F. Scott and Zelda's.  Better yet, I was a fellow writer, a flapper looking for a good time.  I even smoked cigarettes.

I was there, alright.  My coworkers call me an apparition.  I don't actually disappear, but I'm a big daydreamer, so I think I do. 

While touring the University Club I imagined I could see a fine haze of cigar smoke in the air while the impressive James J. Hill talked business in a booming voice with his friends.  They held snifters of amber cognac and their women were in their own corner gossiping and talking babies.  If I am an apparition, it isn't moving silently from room to room, it's a drift from the present to the past.  These little flights of fancy don't alarm my good friend, Melanie.  In fact, I'm fairly certain she travels with me.  Good old Melanie.  She really gets me.

I recently took a tour of the Wood Lake Wildlife Center with 7 year old Jojo who talked the entire time.  He educated me about owls who won't eat dead mice (they like to kill their own), and about vultures (who he says we must respect) who can eat dead mice because they have a very high concentration of stomach acid that prevents them from getting sick from the bacteria in dead animals.  Wow.  I didn't know that.

I once worked with a fabulous woman, named Bea Brown, who said if you can't remember, or don't know, the details of a subject while giving a lecture, just make something up.  She laughed then, so I knew she was kidding.  I think.  At any rate, I believe Jojo may have graduated from the Bea Brown School of Oratory, because he also advised me that frog season was over, but it is still toad season in southern Minnesota.  Really?

One thing we both agreed on was this.  The boardwalk across the lake was plastered with duck poop.  And that's no lie.