Steve Fernlund and The Long Way Home

My Christmas memories are cast in the warm, sepia tones of the mid-century—the 1950s and 1960s. Vinyl albums on the spindle with songs of the season by Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, and Andy Williams. A spindly spruce tree that smelled like outdoors, draped with tinsel and handmade ornaments. A small pile of gifts under the tree, mostly socks, underwear, and a toy or two. We idolize that time as one of simplicity, conformity, and anticipation—a season where the commercial engine was beginning to accelerate. Still, the pace of life itself was decidedly slower.  Each fall, we’d receive the Montgomery Ward, JCPenney, and Sears Christmas catalogs. I’d spend hours each day leading up to the visit from St. Nick, going page to page to see all the wonderful toys and mechanical games that I’d never own, yet still wishing. Then I’d admire the BB guns and rifles, which I’d also never own. And that’s how wishing and hoping became part of my DNA. Today,  the holiday landscape is fundamentall...

I do some of my best writing in my head while walking the dogs. Whether ruminating about the Long Way Home, a Facebook comment, or an angry email to someone who failed to deliver on a promise, by the time the dogs have done their duty, the best writing has started to fade away. By the time I sit at my keyboard or have a notebook in hand, that passage of marvelous writing proved to be just an all-too-brief visitation. Some of you may be thinking, based on my weak efforts that you read here, that the words and ideas that escape me probably weren’t perfect anyway. Maybe you’re right. But it bothers the you-know-what out of me. If losing good ideas hasn’t been true my whole life, I might attribute it to my advancing years.   I’ve tried almost every trick in my attempts to capture those lightning-in-a-bottle ideas and wonderfully profound sentences. I’ve carried recipe cards, scribbled on the back of business cards (remember those?), pocket notebooks, and note apps on my phone—resu...

The Bohunk finally convinced me to go with her to Bentleyville, the winter attraction in Duluth. Bentleyville is known as America's largest free walk-through light display, emphasizing the importance of local traditions during the holidays. The tradition started with a guy named Nathan Bentley decorating his home in Esko, MN, part of a friendly competition to put up more lights than his neighbor. In 2008, Duluth Mayor Don Ness called Bentley to propose moving the light display to Bayfront Festival Park on the shores of Lake Superior. The "Tour of Lights" lit up Bayfront Park for the first time on November 27, 2009.  I enjoy a healthy dislike of crowds and the depressing financial cost of popular public events. I was convinced to give this display of holiday lights a chance. The only expense we’d incur is $10 for parking. No entry fee, free coffee and cookie, along with complimentary popcorn and marshmallows for S’mores, to be warmed over a dozen or more wood fires on the ...

Thanksgiving ended last night. Today begins, television commercials notwithstanding, the run-up to Christmas in our family. Every year in our half-century together, my wife, whom I fondly call the Bohunk, was joyfully obsessed with every detail of the holiday, from finding just the right gifts to planning meals and baked treats, and especially decorating. If you know her, you know that she is an accomplished decorator — a talent I delight in, except when I have to hang and display groups of pictures on a wall correctly. She decorates the house for different seasons, but goes all out for Christmas, creating lasting memories that define our holiday traditions. Our long-time friend, Paul Mc, helped us unload the truck of personal effects we brought back to Cook County nine years ago. It was cold, windy, sleeting, and snowing the day we unloaded. Ask Paul, and he’ll tell you that he schlepped dozens of totes packed with Christmas decorations from truck to loft, shaking his head at the exce...