The Coming Year

I’ve spent so much energy, along with everyone else, thinking about the election. How did Trump get elected? Why? By whom? What does it mean? Not just nationally, but what does it mean locally, for me and the place where I live?

I’ve drafted posts, and left them hanging in my “drafts” box. But here, in this space between Christmas and the New Year, I want to tell a few stories of people I’ve been thinking about this past month.

The first is Benedict Gorecki. Ben died this year, leaving behind an extraordinary legacy. He graduated from high school near here in 1945, started a family, and moved to North Dakota where he worked nights and went to college during the day– nearly a decade separate his high school and college graduation. He moved back to Stearns County and started a business. His modest business made him a millionaire, something not mentioned in his obituary. Also not mentioned there was his tremendous philanthropy. He gave large amounts of money to the Benedictine communities and to the St. Cloud Hospital and its healthcare system. His business built things, and his donations built things, too. He did not leave the community, and he invested in the community. He is not alone– but still we marvel at these quiet, rooted people in our area who continue to contribute to the health and stability of the area.

When I bought my house in Cold Spring, Minnesota, I bought it from Tom Braegelmann, who lives in San Francisco and is a successful real estate investor. He is a native of Cold Spring who “got out.” His family name is still strong in this area. He had bought up three houses on a dead end street across from the Sauk River and a park. He put in the work that was necessary– new roofs and updated heating systems, a new garage and some basic cosmetic updates like carpet over the ancient linoleum in the dining room– and he sold them below market value, two to renters and then mine, which had been vacant. I bought my beautiful, 3 bedroom house for $120K. While he was at it, Braegelmann planted trees in the park, bought new playground equipment, and built a pavilion that is used for graduation parties and large family gatherings all summer long. People describe him as a great guy. He contributed purposefully and specifically to the community. His name isn’t on anything. Everyone talks about what a great guy he is.

Finally, I can’t stop thinking about a friend’s brother who lives near Grand Forks, ND, on the Red River. Back in the 1980s, he started his working life as a baker at the largest grocery store in Grand Forks. He got up and drove to work in the middle of the night, and he and a crew made bread, pastries, donuts, all the baked goods for the day. After several years, though, the company went to mixes. His workforce was cut and it didn’t take as long to make what was needed. Then, the company moved to frozen breads and rolls. They still made cakes from mixes, but my friend’s brother was alone making the bread and rolls. And then, the grocery store chain got rid of the bakery. Everything arrived on a truck, and the truck went from there to Wal-Mart for its next delivery. The man lost his job and for the next twenty years has driven trucks of various kinds– garbage trucks, delivery trucks, burial vault trucks. When I went out to North Dakota and drove around, almost all I saw were trucks. FedEx trucks thirty miles from the Canadian border. Men driving trucks. The man, my friend’s brother, was full of stories of young people dying, from drug overdoses or car accidents or suicide. His daughters, the ones with jobs, work at nursing homes. He now has an exterminator route.

Around here, we’re lucky. We have a strong manufacturing base for an area this size. The paper mill burned down, and another mill closed, and jobs have left. But we have cabinet shops and snowmobile makers and working quarries. We have machine shops and everywhere people praise the work ethic of local people. We have a strong entrepreneurial streak and local companies pop up now and then. We have a lot of people, too, who are working to make sure African immigrants (primarily Somali) have a smooth integration into our town– learning English and navigating various bureaucracies to get what they need. Holding meetings in churches to introduce people to their new neighbors and talk about Islam, head scarves, and the journey from refugee camps in Kenya to Central Minnesota.

image from New York Times

Overall, I don’t feel as worried about the country as friends in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. In part, it’s because I know my neighbors. And I know we will help each other and we care about this place. And I hope as a country we can hear those who are hurting and find ways to help them transition in the “new economy,” those who want to stay in their beautiful landscapes and make a go of it. Out where the sugar beet union was broken by a long, long strike. Out where the best thing going is fracking and related construction on the west side of the state, even if that means living far from family in tiny, overpriced trailers through another hard winter. Even if that work threatens the water supply.

And, of course, once the pump jacks are set up, the work subsides. Someone still makes money, but not the laborers. With the cheap gas around these days, the boom is already turning back to bust. The money won’t go far, or far enough, back home. And it is just as unclear what we can do on the edge of 2017 as it was in 2016, and 2012, and 2008.