Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

Mom used to say, with obvious disdain toward whoever she directed it at, "They only worship the Almighty dollar!"  Dollars were scarce occasionally in my house, so I knew dollars were necessary but not omnipotent. We worshipped God and Lutefisk in that order. When I could, I worshipped baseball.  Doing post-high school planning, the allure of the almighty dollar became increasingly apparent. My parents, stretched to the limit supporting my older sister's education, explained that if I wanted to attend college and defer the draft, I would need to find a way to pay for it. This marked the beginning of my own pursuit of the almighty dollar without succumbing to its worship. The folks taught me, through osmosis, I suppose, to know when enough is enough when it comes to money. In the days following last Tuesday's presidential election, I've grown tired of hearing about what the Democrats need to do to bring more voters to the table, not to mention all the post mortems

I am not a handyman. I’m poorly suited for DIY stuff, as much out of nature as nurture. Roger Abrahamson and I grew up together on the mean streets of 17th Avenue in Richfield. Roger is a traditional wooden bowl-turner specializing in Norwegian ale vessels. He’s been a talented woodworker who uses hand tools, a pedal-powered spring pole lathe, and hand-forged tools for many years. He teaches wood turning at North House Folk School in Grand Marais and travels the country to demonstrate his art at county and state fairs and festivals. Roger’s paternal grandparents were Norwegian immigrants who settled in south Minneapolis. His grandmother’s ale bowl, which is still in the family, inspires him to this day.  When we were kids, we built a shed behind the Abrahamson’s garage that would be our clubhouse. Roger must have had some handyman skills. He was the oldest of the group and may have used his craftsman nature to get the building done. We enjoyed it for years. I, not handy even then, may

As I sit here to write this column, I am fully aware that I place myself squarely on Trump’s list of enemies within, and I am unreservedly accepting of that fact. Not only am I a dabbling journalist, which he hates, but I wouldn’t support the man if he were running for dog catcher. It's disheartening to think that some people I know, people I respect, who are decent, and some who I love, are voting for a self-promoting huckster who, after serving a full four-year term as President, refused to leave office with the decency and respect that office deserves. Over those four years, after promising to fix all the ills of America, he failed to resolve any, and we, the people, made our rejection of him clear. It's baffling that some still cling to the lie that the 2020 election was stolen. How can they reconcile this with the fact that a Democratic cabal, supposedly efficient enough to rig the presidential election, couldn't manage to secure a majority in the House and Senate? It&

As an aged capitalist and proud entrepreneur, I like to follow stories about people who run small businesses and those who try to make business ownership a little bit easier.  I recently stumbled on an article on StartupNation, a multimedia company offering “in-the-trenches, how-to content authored by subject matter experts, thought leaders, and business professionals.” Titled “Solve the Real Problem…Not The Symptom,” it caught my eye because that statement is the essence of organizational leadership. Much of the energy within organizations, by which I mean the time and talents of people trying to fulfill a mission, is wasted on dealing with symptoms, not real problems. One example is how we pay for and manage healthcare delivery. Back in the day, when I sported cufflinks and braces (the 80s), my partners and I thought providing health insurance for our people, including ourselves, was a responsibility. We started off paying monthly premiums for employees and their families. Coverage i