April 14th, 2009—Memories often take on a life of their own and go where they will. This one leads me down memory lane to helping my grandfather, Floyd W. Anger, mayor of Lilydale from 1959 to 1970, move his essentials to higher ground every year that Lilydale's lowlands flooded where Water Street becomes Lilydale Road. In 1965 he lost his home to the river; one day it was off its foundation, the next day it was down the road, having slammed into a telephone pole, and the day after it was gone— pictures, treasures, and lots of essentials. In one newspaper article, my grandfather was quoted as saying, "They [the residents] say they won't come back—but they do," and so did he and his wife, Evelyn. After the 1965 flood, he built a home at 944 Lilydale Road, down the road and across the street from his lost home.  Read More

April 10th, 2009—Remember that date? You know—the one when you were a teen and had so much fun you'll never forget it? At eighteen, a cute blond co-worker, Sue Larson, caught Danny Kress' eye. He asked her for a date. "Wear running shoes," he told her. He didn't think to also tell her to wear dark clothes. She arrived in a bright yellow jacket, complementing her blond ponytail. She also brought three girlfriends. Danny took his gang to Como Zoo. After hours. There was not much to see, since most of the animals were locked up. They went for the excitement of doing something dangerous. As they walked along the chain-link fence to the wolves' den, one lone gray timber wolf distracted the group; they didn't notice the two wolves lying against the fence. The wolves yelped and howled at the little group. The girls screamed, turned to run, stumbled into Danny, and pinned him against the fence. Read More

April 8th, 2009—It's 8 p.m. at City Hall and the lights in the mayor's office are still on. He sets down the stack of reports he's been reading, glances at the clock in his office, and reaches for his briefcase and keys. It's time to make the rounds. He flips off the lights and walks down the echoing corridors of City Hall to the door. Everyone is long gone. The mayor turns the ignition in his car, turns up the radio, and swoops down Shepard Road. His usual route is through Highland Park, then Mac-Groveland, Desnoyer Park, Como-Midway, North End, Frogtown, Crocus Hill, Summit University, downtown, the East Side, and finally the West Side. He checks his clipboard.  Read More

April 2nd, 2009—Flashback: I was going through some old family photographs after my Irish Catholic father died of cancer at Mount Sinai Hospital in 1986. I came across a photo of my mother taken of her while at St. Benedict's College at the time she met my father. It was a black-and-white photo in which she was wearing a beautiful bonnet. It reminded me of the song, "I Dream of Jeanie with the Light Brown Hair." My Story: problems with schizophrenia and a mother conflict. James Joyce thought the "one true thing in life is a mother's love." My social worker/writer mother, Patricia Coyne-O'Shaughnessy, got me involved with Hope Transition Center and Guild Hall after I was the victim of an armed robbery, which gave me post-traumatic stress disorder. I lived at Guild Hall in the mid-1970s and early 1980s. I was under commitment while a resident of Guild Hall.  Read More

March 15th, 2009—"A high priestess in the cult of murder as a fine art" was how Saint Paul literary critic James Gray described her. She was often referred to as "the Mistress of Mystery." But until recently, she was an almost forgotten figure in the city's literary lineup. Her name was Mabel Hodnefield Seeley. Mabel was born on March 25, 1903, in Herman, Minnesota. Her family came to Saint Paul when her father, a teacher, got a job at the Minnesota Historical Society. Her mother was a natural storyteller, "so I started life with a book in my hand and well-said words in my ears," she once wrote. Mabel was born on March 25, 1903, in Herman, Minnesota. Her family came to Saint Paul when her father, a teacher, got a job at the Minnesota Historical Society. Her mother was a natural storyteller, "so I started life with a book in my hand and well-said words in my ears," she once wrote. Read More