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Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 007
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 010
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: Move in Day Changing Atmosphers: A New Home

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 081
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: Photos by: Stephen Geffre

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 088
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 012
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: Ellis speaks on TRAN FORMING TRANSPORTATION How do you get to campus? Do you ride the light-rail, take a bus, or drive your car? Maybe you cruise in on your bike. On Wednesday, February 23, 2010, during Vocation Chapel, transportation guru Lonnie Ellis spoke to students about the inequities that...
Show moreEllis speaks on TRAN FORMING TRANSPORTATION How do you get to campus? Do you ride the light-rail, take a bus, or drive your car? Maybe you cruise in on your bike. On Wednesday, February 23, 2010, during Vocation Chapel, transportation guru Lonnie Ellis spoke to students about the inequities that exist in transportation. He also commented on his own faith journey and how he got involved in social justice. "We talk about disparities like we talk about the weather: the sky is blue, Minnesota is cold, and we have racial disparities in education, transportation, and housing," Ellis said. As new projects change the makeup of the metro, like the Central Corridor Light Rail Line, Ellis says that it is important to look at the neighborhoods that are overlooked. He noted that recent bus lines have been stripped from areas that have heavy traffic and high diversity. "These are not disparities," Ellis expressed, "they are inequities." Ellis believes that these decisions are systemic, interconnected, and interdependent. However, he does not believe that these structures are invincible. “They were built and they can be un-built," Ellis said. Ellis related this belief to a text from Isaiah, loosing the chains of injustice and untying the cords of the yoke to let the oppressed go free. "We need to shake up the power system that keeps the oppression going," Ellis stated. Ellis' experience with oppression began at a young age. He grew up in a household which had a lot of stress and very little money. In response, Ellis sought out to find a palpable fix. Alcohol and violence were outlets, but the enjoyment he experienced was always take. Through the trauma of his childhood and the struggles of others, he was forced to look seriously at the world. In his search, he saw abundance and he witnessed poverty. But the abundance was like the light breaking free in the dawn from the passage in Isaiah. It was God becoming real and stretching into overlooked, red-lined neighborhoods. When we challenge these inequities, Ellis concluded that we might he laughed at or shunned. “We must be bold," Ellis said. Peter Miller
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Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 011
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: This year, new first-year students were moved into the dorms a week before the upper class students. The movein day for this year fell on September 6th, 2009. The transition from high school to college for the new students never really left room for nostalgia as Augsburg staff and students helped...
Show moreThis year, new first-year students were moved into the dorms a week before the upper class students. The movein day for this year fell on September 6th, 2009. The transition from high school to college for the new students never really left room for nostalgia as Augsburg staff and students helped them move into their rooms at a fast but efficient pace and made the students participate in a full week of activities. This left them feeling "rushed, excited, and confused," according to one new student. On first arriving on the Augsburg campus, the students were shocked to see the cars lined up with parents and fellow students ready to unload their luggage. It surprised a lot of the younger students to see the football team, the big guys in Augsburg jerseys, helping unload the cars while handing out Jimmy John's sandwiches and drinks to those waiting in line. Entering their room and setting up their stuff while meeting their roommates allowed for a little breather before the week of activities began. The activities started off with naming games to get to know their fellow group mates and led to walks to different parts of town to get to know the neighbors and neighborhoods, and a day was officially committed to community service. Some of these social activities were required to receive their AugSem grade, a general required by Augsburg. Once this week was done, the upper class students also moved in and school officially started. Welcome to Augsburg, our young fellow Auggies! I hope you have had time to settle into the Augsburg routine and enjoy every minute of it. Samantha Steele
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Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 003
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 005
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: ,- in service to the worl J»; i; ‘ prtunities, which ar ‘ e faith and values ‘ . i v ‘ ital metropolitan setti' u tommunity..

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 009
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: war/WW .(i/n/IJ.‘ \ r / . : /_.r.¢;K 3 '40 f ;

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 001
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 002
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 008
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: HOMECUMING ’ (II/4 Photos by Stephen Geffre / /

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 004
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection

Title: Augsburgian 2010, page 006
Collection: Augsburgian (Yearbook) Collection
Search Result: ~[o Auggie Days is an on-campus orientation experience for incomir first-year students designed to complement SUAR, provit opportunities to enhance academic and personal success, arr offer a-helgullraslvdntage in starting at Augsburg College. m mum 1,1 Photos by: Stephen lieffre r 7‘

Title: Murphy Square 2017: Murphy Square Visual Art and Literary Magazine
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Ed...
Show more MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Editor Ryan Moore, Prose Editor Gabriel Benson, Poetry Editor Danny Polaschek, Poetry Editor Cary Waterman, Advisor 2 WITH THANKS TO Ivy Arts Copy and Print Augsburg College Student Government Augsburg College English Department Augsburg College Art Department The Echo Augsburg Honors Program QPA 3 TABLE OF CONTENTS 1 What Type of Black Girl Are You? Nikkyra Whittaker ........................................................................... 8 Simul Justus et Peccator, Andy Anderson .......................................................................................... 11 Queer, Eve Taft ....................................................................................................................................... 12 Jesus in a Cracker, A.Tetzlaff ................................................................................................................ 14 Grey Cloud Island, David Baboila ......................................................................................................... 17 Saint Paul Airport, David Baboila .......................................................................................................... 18 White Bear Lake, David Baboila ............................................................................................................ 19 Zips Coliseum, David Baboila ............................................................................................................... 20 Bridge, Jacob J. Miller ............................................................................................................................ 21 50 Feet Tall, Emilie Tomas ...................................................................................................................... 25 Meow, Ashley Waalen ............................................................................................................................ 26 Mousetrap, Halle Chambers .................................................................................................................. 27 Faces, Constance Klippen ..................................................................................................................... 29 I Don’t Always Feel Colored, Diamonique Walker ............................................................................... 30 Where I am From, Hannah Schmit ......................................................................................................... 32 Who Am I?, Ashley Waalen .................................................................................................................... 34 2 Gratitude, D.E Green .............................................................................................................................. CSBR, Gabriel Bergstrom ...................................................................................................................... The Fire, Elisabeth Beam ........................................................................................................................ Desert Drums, Abigail Carpenter .......................................................................................................... Colors, Hannah Schmit ........................................................................................................................... Urban Delight, Jazmin Crittenden ......................................................................................................... When Dad Wore Cologne, A. Tetzlaff .................................................................................................... Shitty Christmas Trees, Elisabeth Beam ............................................................................................... Summer Nights, Adam Ruff ................................................................................................................... 36 38 39 41 42 43 44 46 48 The People United, Adam Ruff .............................................................................................................. 49 After the Hike, Adam Ruff ..................................................................................................................... 50 Crumbs, Malena Larsen ......................................................................................................................... 51 Bloomed, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................................................... 55 Pruned, Audrey Campbell ...................................................................................................................... 56 Herman, Danny Polaschek ................................................................................................................... 57 El Barrio Suyo, Chad Berryman ............................................................................................................. 60 The Neighborhood, Chad Berryman ..................................................................................................... 61 Odyssey, Eve Taft .................................................................................................................................... 62 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 63 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 64 Counting Sheep, Danny Polaschek ...................................................................................................... 65 3 Sky Nights, Keeyonna Fox ...................................................................................................................... 67 Inner Self, Keeyonna Fox ....................................................................................................................... 68 Victory of the People, Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk ............................................................................. 69 An Open Letter to the Un-specials, Halle Chambers ...........................................................................76 Sorex Palustris, Emilie Tomas ................................................................................................................. 79 Woodsy Adam Ruff, Gabriel Bergstrom .................................................................................................. 80 Words, Malena Larsen ................................................................................................................................. 81 Malcom, Danny Polaschek ....................................................................................................................... 83 DRIVING AT ZERO ONE, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 85 DRIVING AT ZERO TWO, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 86 Placemakers, Diamonique Walker ........................................................................................................ 87 A Necessary Evil Thing Considered in any Light, Jacob J. Miller ....................................................... 88 1 WHAT TYPE OF BLACK GIRL ARE YOU? Nikkyra Whittaker On the spectrum of being black and female, we can only be what we appear to be. Take this quiz to find out what kind of black girl you really are! 1. You’re listening to the radio on the way to Target. You’re playing… a. Beyonce’s “****Flawless” b. Taylor Swift’s “Fifteen” or “You Belong With Me” or “Wildest Dreams” c. Chris Brown’s “Loyal” d. Keri Hilson’s “Pretty Girl Rock” 2. It’s your day off work. What will you be doing? a. Blowing off steam on Facebook. b. Watching old episodes of One Tree Hill c. Out for drinks and scoping eye candy d. Talking shit with the ladies while drinking Moscato! 3. What’s your dream home like? a. Full of books on systemic oppression b. Beverly Hills penthouse c. Some big shot rapper’s mansion d. Spacious New York Loft 8 4. Your favorite TV show is… a. Docu-series on race b. Sex in the City c. Bad Girls Club d. Love and Hip Hop 5. Finally, who’s your favorite female icon from this list? a. Angela Davis b. Taylor Swift c. New York from I Love New York d. Nicki Minaj Tally up how many of each letter you got and turn the page to find out who you really are! If you got mostly a’s...You’re an Angry Black Girl! Congratulations, you loud-mouthed, anger filled home-girl! I’m guessing there’s always some reason to be mad at someone, isn’t there? Do you just spend your days in a perpetual state of rage, angry at the world for reasons they don’t find important? Do you find yourself constantly snapping your fingers in that z-formation, pursing your lips at anyone who steps in your way? I bet people are telling you to just be quiet, huh? I mean, what issues could you, a black female, possibly have? Why should you care that your high school English teacher gives you a C+ on your essay because she thinks you copied it from the white man online? Why does it matter that your male co-worker at Target constantly teases you about your nappy hair, calling it a “brillo pad,” “cheeto puff,” or some other clever name? None of this should anger you! Be aware, you sassy Sapphire, in this world, your anger means nothing. If you got mostly b’s...You’re an Oreo! You grew up watching Lizzie McGuire and listening to Aaron Carter. You straightened your hair from the moment you were old enough to assert yourself and cried when it wouldn’t lay flat. Your friends were always shocked to see you bring collard greens and jambalaya to lunch so you stopped eating your favorite foods. They didn’t understand why you couldn’t just brush your hair, wash your hair everyday, why it suddenly grew or shrunk inches overnight. I’m certain you’ve heard from many of your friends how they just don’t see you as a black girl. They erase your black skin because it doesn’t fit the images of other black girls they see. You spend most of your time edging away from the loud black girls, the ghetto black girls who ate hot cheetos and drank kool aid and had corn rows and long braids and smelled like a mix of the jungle and your ancestors pain and you wished, maybe for a just a moment, but you did wish that you could be white. But honey, you can never wash off that melanin! It’s a permanent stain. Just because your friends can’t see the black on you, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t. 9 If you got mostly c’s...You’re a Hip Hop Ho! You sexual deviant you! Let me guess—big breasts, small waist, and wide hips? You’ve got that original Betty Boop to you, something in your eyes that say yes to a question no one bothers to ask. You’re the black girl that white guys use as a notch in their belt. You are the exotic sexual being that men love to hate and hate to love. You became a sexual thing at a young age, when your breasts came in at ten years old and became d-cups at fourteen. They started looking at you differently, didn’t they? Your eyes stopped existing. Your words didn’t matter. Your body became the tool used to diminish your worth. How often did you get yelled at in school to put on something less revealing than your shorts? Did you ever wonder why the skinny, flat-assed white girls were never told the same thing? Honey, your wide hips wrapped in chocolate skin were never yours. You will never be yours. 10 If you got mostly d’s...You’re a Ghetto Fabulous Black Girl! You make what little money you can working at Walmart or doing nails. You make people waiting at the bus stop with you uncomfortable with your loud laughter and yellow and pink braids and long, bedazzled nails. You toss your weave around, remove your earrings, and square up to anyone that says shit about you. When you’re out, you are often told to stop yelling, screaming, taking up space. You’ve got baby daddy problems and you’re only 18. You grew up playing double dutch in the middle of the street with old rope. You accept your black, your ghetto, your Ebonics. But you are not supposed to accept yourself, honey! Don’t you see the fashion police spreads in the magazines? You are on all the pages! Don’t show your hips. Put on a shirt that conceals your stomach. Put your breasts away. Don’t wear bright lipstick. Stop standing out, being different. Get smaller, quieter, lesser, as you are supposed to be. You love your black too loudly and it makes others uncomfortable. Your job is to make people comfortable so do your best to limit the loudness of your melanin. simul justus et peccator andy anderson 11 QUEER Eve Taft You think there isn’t a sign on my ribs that says “stonewall inn”? You think Matthew Shepard doesn’t tug at my hair and warn me as I walk the streets of my city? You think I don’t choke on the smoke from the hellfire you spit from your pulpits with sparks that sear and heat branding irons which scar your names on me to mark me as danger? You think my veins don’t shiver when they think of the devastation wracking the cities that some called deliverance while Reagan fiddled as we burned You think that the prisons pink triangles asylums bullets spitting into a nightclub don’t whisper in my head as I make my way through the world? 12 You think that I don’t notice— I kiss her and kiss her —the headline blowing by with a death toll and I kiss her the skyline splashing out behind us the lights on the Washington Avenue bridge flicker on and I kiss her Putin criminalizes us, across the world I kiss her Vigils held too late for young suicides Corrupting, perverted, disgusting, an affront to family values— I kiss her in the rain and the sleet of Minnesota I kiss her, our lips tasting of chants from the protest that shut down I-94 handed down from our grandmothers hearts beating, eyes sparkling, alive I kiss her You think I forget the lists and the candles and the deaths and the pain and all that roars in my ears is a chorus screaming over and over again you were not able to kill us I kiss her and all is still 13 JESUS IN A CRACKER A. Tetzlaff Eucharist I hugged my father’s black, pleated pants while we waited for mass to start. He was beaming proudly and chatting with the rest of our family. I wore the only dress I allowed to touch my body: by then it was a year old and from my uncle’s wedding when I walked down the aisle carrying a bouquet, looking like a blonde deer caught in front of a semi truck. It had a black velvet top connected to a white skirt. All the girls wore white. My parents cut their losses. All the boys, shirt and tie. Eight-year-olds taking their first communion despite the fact that most of us had no idea what was happening. Understanding the sacraments isn’t really necessary when you grow up in a Catholic family. By the time you are aware of your burden, it’s too late anyway. Religion lived at Nativity of Our Lord Parish, in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Between church and home, I lived in a realm of contradiction. I came to visit religion, but it never went home with me. On Sundays when the game was in town, God would not judge you for wearing your Packer jersey to church. Sinning was bad, but you could tailgate and drink and carouse to your heart’s content. We should have taken beer at 14 that first communion. We would have appreciated it more than the wine. We took our places in the ritual that had been performed again and again. The time-worn ritual begins anew as I walk to the altar with my hands folded in front of me. I must remember to raise my hands high enough so the rheumatic priest doesn’t have to bend down. Right hand over left. I’m a blonde deer again. “The body of Christ.” This is the part where I say, “Amen,” whether I mean it or not, then put the communion wafer in my mouth. I must cross myself (right hand touching head, then left shoulder, then right shoulder) as I walk back up the aisle and toward my family. They liked to sit in the middle section, never too close to the altar. They didn’t like making direct eye-contact with the priest during his homily. To this day I skip the wine for fear of communicable diseases. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, this first communion wafer. It was stale. There was no substance. Maybe the parched flour and water, mixed with the lingering incense is actually what Jesus tastes like. The absorbent clump lasted into the next hymn. Saliva rushed into my mouth and eventually the wafer, heavy with mois- ture, fell from the roof of my mouth. I swallowed without chewing. Just go with it, I told myself. All these people believe in this, so one day, you will too. But I wasn’t sure. I didn’t get it. The power that kept me from running back up the aisle wasn’t the love of God gently pushing me along, but the ritual itself, and the expectation of my parents and grandparents watching proud and probably dewy-eyed as I joined their ranks. Hugs and smiles and congratulations as my family comes out of the first communion Mass, but I wasn’t sure what was such cause for celebration; I hadn’t had a great epiphany about God, nor had I felt any change at all. It was just like every Sunday late in October. head and tell me I was forgiven. “Sometimes, I’m not very nice to my mom or my brother,” I told him. Navitity didn’t own a confessional booth like the ones in movies. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a confessional booth at any Catholic church outside the movies. We sat quietly in a tiny room. Being small for my age, I circled the air below me with my feet. I sat facing him directly. He crossed his legs under the cassock he wore, clearly annoyed. After a silence and a slow nod, the priest said, “Sometimes, we hurt the people we love the most.” It was the only part I heard or remember hearing; he started talking about God’s forgiveness, I assume. I didn’t pay attention, because I didn’t feel different after admitting such a pitiful sin. Marriage I had no ill-feeling toward the physical place of church. In fact, the ritual, the sounds, the smell of incense, and the light that filtered through the stained-glass windows from an Easterly rising sun became familiar and comforting over the years. The nave, filled with old pews, had witnessed my parents’ wedding and my grandparents’ weddings. The organ towered over the choir. The smell of old patrons and Sunday cologne too liberally applied became a sensory memory of that place. However, religion has never been an inward practice; the practice and the scene never joined together. Anointing of the Sick When times are bad, I’ve pulled the fragments of ritual from my memory and recite the “Our Father.” I did this in the winter of my eighteenth year in days following my grandfather’s funeral. He died of bladder cancer, worsened by a communicable bacterial infection called C.Difficile. I became familiar with the ritual of funeral; I’d been to three or four for close relatives. But this time, the ritual felt different. Before, I was sad. My grandfather’s funeral confirmed that the only sacred part of my world had been ripped mercilessly from my arms. Reconciliation “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”As the words come out of my mouth, they themselves felt sinful. I hadn’t sinned, I was eleven. I barely knew what sin was. I had to stop a moment to think of a sin I had committed, so the priest could nod his Baptism I sat in the shower until the water hitting my face was colder than I could stand, reciting the “Our Father” over and over, sobbing. Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. I hoped, over so many repetitions, that my view 15 of God and heaven would change. Yet, it confused me more. Religion stopped looking like the patron blind to reality and became a place where I didn’t belong. Like I was missing out because I didn’t get that epiphany, and didn’t have that same faith. Confirmation Religion was so stale, that when my Mother would occasionally talk about faith, or God, or divine love at the dinner table I would blush with pity and embarrassment. How can you believe this? I thought, how can you be so blind to the real world? Perhaps, I’m the blind one. I continue to live in an intermediate space between faith and atheism. I can’t commit to either. The fence between atheism and faith is fraught with angst. Most days, I try to laugh away my uncertainty. I tell jokes about my Catholic past, chuckle when I hear of “recovering Catholics,” and tell friends, “It smells like a Catholic church in here,” whenever they burn incense. Religion is still stale to me. Religion has no nutritional value. Stale religion has no holy orders. 16 grey cloud island david baboila 17 saint paul airport david baboila 18 white bear lake david baboila 19 zips coliseum david baboila 20 BRIDGE Jacob J. Miller This was not way back when, as my dad would have you believe. It was more recent than that. If he can’t flat out deny it, which he no longer can, he will at least try to convince you that it was so long ago as to suggest it might have been a different lifetime, and he a different person. He has been, after all, Born Again. Except he was not the only person involved, and to carry along as if he was is an exercise in what I’ve heard philosophers call solipsism. For him, his transgression was between himself and the Holy Ghost: accountable not to those he wronged, only to an invisible spirit. But he doesn’t have sole authority in determining the past’s relevance or irrelevance to our lives today. My mother too pretends the past is only what has happened at a particular point in time, and not a factor in what determines what has happened since then and what is happening now. The slate wiper theory of forgiveness is what allowed them to wear their veneer of innocence and believe in its authenticity, and for that reason I resent their new-leaf turnover. My love for them may not be emergent in my words, I know, but I do love them, regardless of the fucked up traits they passed on to their children, which will become evident as this story unfolds You might be wondering, if you care at all, what could be so terrible. Well, it’s not so terrible, and not even very uncommon, but it happened to me, and my brothers and my sisters, and there was never anything we could really do about it. We watched it unfold almost every night to reveal its rotted pit. What was scariest was not when a half-full beer bottle would be hurled in our direction for us being too noisy, and then being held responsible for wasting the beer, and getting punished even more for that. What was scariest was when they fought with each other, mom and dad, when they were both liquored up. All of us children would be sitting in the living room, on our knees, in a line, with our hands folded and tucked inside our clenched thighs, having hitherto been fulfilling our playful, childish duties who couldn’t expect things to go so suddenly and intensely wrong. They would fight about anything, or nothing, for all we knew or cared. They would yell, swear, slam their fists on various surfaces, throw things across the room at each other as if rehearsed. One time, I remember, and this is what I’m talking about when I talk about how scary things got, my 21 dad had my mom pinned up against the refrigerator—after she threw three or four plates at him, one that hit his arm, but would have hit his face if he hadn’t been blocking, and cut it deep. He had the sharp kitchen knife pressed firmly under her chin. If she gulped too hard in fear, or if dad in his stupor lost balance, she would have been bleeding all over the family pictures held by magnets to the fridge. As we grew older, my big brother and I began working under dad instead of merely living under him. Our prospects in life weren’t substantial at that point. Whatever potential we had, it had never been encouraged, so entering into the family business, if it can even be called that, was the only viable option. I woke dad up most mornings from his typical collapse into a face-down, fetal heap on the kitchen floor, sometimes still wet, sometimes already crusted over. I’d say, “it’s time for work, dad,” and he’d drive me to the site where (drinking coffee with whiskey in it on the way) heavy machinery was waiting to be operated—even though we used hammers and nails whenever we could. Stonehenge-sized slabs of cement, wooden pillars, cinder blocks, and iron rods littered the landscape. It was all so disorderly that if a nomad wandered upon the scene, the indication would be of destruction rather than pre-construction. There were no piles of allocated materials or inventoried supply lists. It could have all been salvaged from past demolitions or by thievery from other project sites. We seemed to accrue it all without any kind of exchange or standard of accountability for use. Everything seemed to just show up wherever and whenever we needed it. Who actually made all this stuff? How did we move it from place to place to use from job to job? Who permitted my sodden father to oversee such potentially hazardous 22 projects? He was a self-made man outside the advent of auditing. What did I care then? I was making my way, fashioning for myself a future out of will power, and holding my breath until I could extricate myself from this grim farce. First day on the job, my dad said to me, don’t fuck up, or he’d make me test the bridge before the support beams were all in place. I believed him. That particular bridge wasn’t connecting two sides over a raging river or anything; more of a convenient pathway over a stream, but it was still a threat coming from dad. Second day on the job, my brother James tore partway through his leg with a chainsaw. I heard him yell, but it sounded more out of frustration than terror and pain. He sat down, ripped his immediately blood-soaked pants from where the initial tear was, delicately unlaced and removed his boot so as not to cause more pain, grunting as if he had done nothing more than step in dog shit, and lifted the nearly severed part of his leg that dangled lifelessly like a tube sock on a clothesline, to close the wound, from which I saw steam rising sacrificially to the wintery heavens. He reached forward to grab the excess of sock which, although bunched up at his toes, had a long, tortuous journey before being completely removed. He screamed as he stretched forward, more circumstantially appropriate this time, and this is when I dropped my— whatever, the thing I was holding, I can’t remember what, but I didn’t hear it land because I couldn’t assimilate anything else that may have been transpiring around me. I almost seemed to float over to him, not even aware of my legs propelling me forward. I saw all the blood, but I wasn’t put off by it as much as I thought I probably should have been, and I thought that as I stared at it pooling out. I observed it dispassionately, coldly, but I may not have been breathing. At first sight, it was just an organic pipe that sprung a leak. I think I asked if he was all right but I meant it more like did he think he was going to die. He said to go get dad and that’s when I became afraid. I stood there for I don’t know how long, until he repeated himself more urgently: “Walt!” he said, “Go! Get! Dad!” I listened that time, but I was still very afraid. I was trembling and began feeling like I might faint, and I almost hoped I wouldn’t find dad, that he’d be off drinking somewhere, but he wasn’t. He was drinking right there, over a small mound of dirt, holding a big piece of wood sturdy for someone to do something with. I saw his breath bellow out into the cold with a cough and evaporate as he took a swig from a bottle before sliding it back into his coat pocket, without so much as a pretense of inconspicuousness.The bottle neck stuck straight out and brushed against his elbow, a cumbersome lump sinking down and throwing off his equilibrium further than the ethanol already had. I slowed my pace, tried to regain some composure, and still hoped he wouldn’t notice me. I could claim an attempt at getting his attention, but he just couldn’t be bothered with me. I tried, I’d tell James, but I’ll carry you. I was sure I could have done that. Part of me still wished I could have avoided involving my dad at all. It was selfish, but I thought I might get slapped with the blame. But I yelled, Dad! Come quick! Dad, I yelled again, skidding on the gravel as I spun around, intent on not letting my dad’s impatient glare lock on me, and from that momentum, nearly ascending at a perfectly horizontal angle in the air before I landed face first on those same tiny rocks, a perfect reenactment of self-humiliation on the school playground at recess. I felt all those multiple points of impact, but wasted no time in catapulting myself back up—no time for embarrassment just yet—clawed off the pebbles that clung gently to the tiny dents they bore into my face and palms, and sped back to my brother who, when I reached the dirt-mound summit again, I could see was lying flat, surrounded by the thick, still-steaming purplish puddle which had, since I left him, at least quadrupled in circumference. Not looking back at all during my return sprint to see how far behind me dad was, or even if he followed me at all, I turned from the sight of my brother completely to see him, Dad, shuffling over the mound, bogged down by beer bottles, which could be heard clanging together in his pockets. He was wheezing inhalations of frozen air. He saw James right away, I know it, but he didn’t say anything until he got right up close to him, planting one clumsy boot in the blood puddle with a squelchy, meager splat, like an old-fashioned letter-sealing stamp on melted wax. He leaned over with outward turned elbows and hands on hips, looked at James’ face. James’ eyes were closed. Dad then scanned down to the butchered leg, grimaced, scanned back up to James’ face. James’ eyes were now open again, frigid with shock, and dad said, “pull yourself together, son,” erupting hysterically at his own clever buffoonery. James turned out to live, no real thanks to our father. I ended up having to run to the nearest phone anyway and call an ambulance. He didn’t even lose his leg. He did require a blood transfusion because he lost gallons of it, or at least it seemed like it when I stood there staring at the mess, but his gristly cheeks had their color restored right in front of me, resupplying and, it almost seemed, re-inflat23 ing him to human shape at the coercion of some stranger’s bodily elixir. It worked like sorcery, but far more astonishing because it was methodologically reliable. The warm fluid surged through his veins, and he was ensconced for a moment in a prodigious glow of newfound vitality. Back then, my dad, laughing, called him a lucky son-of-a-bitch, whereas telling the story now, upon reflection and suspension of rational thought, my brother was “touched by an angel.” Now, whenever this celestial creature of mercy is mentioned, who conveniently remains anonymous for humility’s sake I suppose, instead of our dad drunkenly laughing and mocking the situation, James does. An example of an aforementioned fucked up trait passed on in the family. 24 50 FEET TALL Emilie Tomas I was in 5th grade When my class went To see ‘The Human Body’ and I watched In childhood Horror as A 50 foot grin Unfurled, loomed Large enough To pull me Into orbit Devoured First a sandwich And then my Faith in humanity With deafening Smacks Like thunder If thunder Was made Of jelly and Dismay and I Knew it was a Crime to allow a Person to become This Inflated, With every pore Its own path to Hell and I knew I couldn’t trust Anyone because In our heads We are all 50 feet tall. 25 meow you see ashley waalen 26 MOUSETRAP Halle Chambers Minnie “Mousy” O’Mally knew she was invisible up here on her fire escape. This was her safeplace. With the ladder pulled up as it was now, almost no one could reach her here. Plus, even if someone did make it up here, she could easily get away. If she crawled rough the window, she’d be securely locked in the apartment. There, it was warm and dry and at least sometimes safe when her daddy…no, excuse her, correction, “Father or Sir” wasn’t home. He hated when she called him Daddy. He wasn’t home now, out doing illegal God knows what in the “family business,” but he would be back soon. Hence why she was out here. So, no apartment, not right now. If she dropped the ladder, she could slide down to street level in seconds and be down the block in under a minute. She knew, because she’d practiced and had timed herself. The only way to avoid getting hit in the face was to be quick on your feet. That was the first rule of fighting that Jase, her older brother, had taught her. With the life they lived, it was also a rule of survival. And they didn’t call her “Mousy” for nothing: she was small and fast… very fast. Jase could make a distraction, and Minnie could run. But, Jase was working a job that “Father” had given him out of town till this weekend, and she’d surely get caught if she didn’t have her usual head-start. So,“down” wouldn’t work either. If she scaled up the ladder above her, she’d be on the roof, where their oldest brother, Cobie, had often taken her and Jase to stargaze. She hadn’t known till six years into her still short life that he’d done it to keep his precious baby brother and sister away from their father’s sight when the man would come home satellite high or plastered. She hadn’t known till twelve years in that he’d take their father’s hungover backhand on the mornings after, so she and Jase didn’t. All she’d known as he’d taught her each constellation was that Cobie was braver than Orion and that she and her brothers were more inseparable than the Gemini twins. But, her world went as topsy-turvy as Cassiopeia when her father had sent Cobie away, saying he would not have a queer as a son. When Jase and Minnie hugged him, Cobie swore he’d come back for them in a year or so. Jase had given up when he’d been two years gone. That was two years ago, and now even Minnie 27 was starting to doubt. No, she couldn’t go up to the roo, not alone. She shivered in the October chill as she reviewed her options: “in” would be facing her father’s wrath, “down” would be facing being caught by a cop or a stranger, and “up” would be facing a reminder of the happiness, now heartbreak, brought by a brother who was likely never coming home again. So, maybe she couldn’t escape easily…or at all. She shivered again, this time more in frantic panic than from the frigid, near winter city wind. For not the first time in her life, Mousy felt trapped. 28 faces connie kilppen 29 *I DON’T ALWAYS FEEL COLORED Diamonique Walker Sometimes I find comfort in places I somehow know I don’t belong Never a full day, but hours will pass and I won’t consider my brown skin or kinky hair I’ll let the imminent fear of my black body being made into an example fall back to the depths of my mind My daughter’s safety in mixed company won’t occur to me I won’t juxtapose my blackness with any other’s identity confidence As if one chooses randomly from a pile of stock black girl names when they look at me He asks me if my hair is real I tell him he can’t ask me that He says oh it’s okay, my girlfriend is black I’m a dirty smudge on freshly ironed white linens Trying to blend in, trying to live my life I breathe, momentarily Suddenly, I’ll feel breathless, choked Stabbed in the chest Stung by a white hot micro aggressive slap in the face An unsolicited violation of my personal space A pale hand gently pulls a lock of my hair in white amazement Or a thin pair of lips will say “what’s upppppp” to me and not anyone else I’ll get called a name like Jasmine with such utter 30 *Line borrowed from Claudia Rankine, Citizen WHERE I AM FROM Hannah Schmit I am from the forest. From ruddy Maple and heady Pine. I am from the sunlit dust that refracts the life of the breeze. The rough wood of the trees are my bones, roots firmly planted deep in the depths of the cool black soil. Generations have taught me to live in the sun, tan weathered hands, calloused and worn cover small, break earth and sow seeds. Exhaling with the unfurling of new leaves whose first stretch welcomed life, I learned the importance of patience and nurturing. I am from dirt beneath my nails and gritty sand in my teeth. Sap painted hands and hot tar feet, blackened from short dashes across burning pavement that rippled with summer heat. Sandboxes were my kingdom, the layers of silt and sand familiar to my prodding hands. I climbed turreted towers of twisted bark and branches to survey the world and breath in time with the breeze. Twigs and leaves were my crown and a rusty tractor my carriage. My people were the songbirds and insistent cicadas whose songs filtered lazily together through the woods. Sometimes I called back, matching note for note, melodies and harmonies creating a canopy of familiarity. I am from wildflowers who nodded their velvet, satin, and paintbrush heads as I passed by. From dried grasses whose sweet scent rose from rolling waves that undulated under horse-tail clouds above. The gold-fringed top of the corn is my hair as it turns to brown under the autumn sun. I am from the passing of seasons, each marking the time as brilliant red and orange gave way to pristine white and serene gray. Freckles and sunburn traded for pale skin cold kissed cheeks. My life can be counted in scraped knees and bruises, and band-aids and scars, each a story unique unto itself. I am from the water. Clear and silted, still and rushing it surrounds me. The river courses through my veins, its steady pulse my heartbeat. I am from the muted silence of holding my breath. From letting go in the soft pixelated light that swirls lazily in the haze of a murky river. From the dew that rests in early mists that lay as a blanket over a newly purified earth, protecting the last of the dawn. I am from music. Love-strung tunes of lullabies rock 31 my past to sleep and call forth dog-eared memories. Treasured memories that float fragmented in my mind, I was waltzing with my darling… Goodnight, Irene… Then sings my soul… Black Forest I have come to be in this place. Knit sweaters and hand me downs weave the fabric of my personality. The black ink of the notes is stained on my fingers, the lyrics printed out as a map on my mind. My body is movement, ‘full of grace’ as I danced through recitals and music competitions. My history is composed of the ivory keys of a piano board, the metallic strings of a guitar, and the soft wheeze of a musty accordion. I am from survivors. From broken families and lives I was given the opportunity to begin. Out of the ashes of war and blood, death and pain I was taught compassion. The scars remind me of my privilege. A handful of ink-smeared letters, a fading tattoo, and relentless nightmares that went unspoken. Touched by shadows of heartbreak and longing I have learned the fears of disease and pain, the cruelty of man and the destruction of illness. I am from a legacy. Footsteps preceded my very first and taught me how to stand tall—to walk courageously. When I was tired of walking and needed to fly, strong hands lay behind me as I learned to test my own strength. I am from fading memories. From sweat and ploughs, rough tools and run down sheds. My past is a copper foundation of saved pennies stretched with love and trust. The polished wood of a hunter’s gun and tug of a taut fishing line tie me to the land of a generation gone by. I am from the creaking wood of a ship that ferried dreams. From the fjords and 32 I am from strength. From weary hands that sought to move forward. From songs crooned in different tongues, prayers tucked away from missed lives. I am from the sweet smell of tobacco. From a worn brown pipe laid in the top overall pocket. From tales of Shirley Temple and shiny black shoes. From the canoe as it passes over reeds and the click of a cane keeping time with shuffling shoes. From sterilized rooms and flowers with similarly fated owners. I am from loss and tears. I am from the Mississippi and the Great Lakes, from steam and coal. From concrete jungles and log cabins. I am a piece of the past, I am… The rooms of my mind are wallpapered with snapshots of a younger me. Sayings and phrases are the soundtrack of my life. I carry them with me. Tucked in locked and forgotten rooms they wait patiently, longingly for me to recall. future. I seek not where I am going only exist here, as I am. I am from the past. Shaped by the present I live for the future. I am from wanderlust. An incorrigible desire to explore that cannot be quelled with the stillness between heartbeats. I am from the excitement that teeters on the brink of the inevitable. I am pulled at by the gentle whisper of religions. Called to the beauty of holiness in the world, I am grounded in the church yet growing in the temple and the mosque. I am gentle hands that have learned to be useful—to give back. Well-used fingers taught to survive and protect. I am a collection of places and people that I have encountered. In love with humanity, I exchange comfort for experience. I am at home in the concrete jungles constructed from heat-cracked pavement and in the mudpatched hut of the desert. The mountains and caves call to me like the trees and fields of my youth. I am at home in the grand expanse of a world that knows no limits, understands no boundaries. A world that exists, simply to exist. My feet itch to travel down forgotten paths where the dust of ages can billow out from under me and cloud the clarity of the 33 who am i? ashley waalen 34 2 GRATITUDE: A POEM IN FOUR PARTS D.E. Green 1. Le Chaim 2. In Praise of Delusion Each day, my own sunrise, my own morning star: your red head radiates strange aerial spikes. When he walks down the sloping skyway from Memorial to the Music building on his way to a long evening class, he sees his reflection in the large classroom window at the base of the slope. He loves that mirror. In it, he is about a foot taller than his five-fiveand-a-half and twenty pounds lighter. He is younger than his sixty years. The silver hair is less telling. As he approaches, the Other ways slightly, moves with the elegant gait of an athlete or dancer. This, he imagines, is my Norwegian double—tall and slender and (at least from this distance) good-looking. Of course as man and image converge, his Other shrinks into an eastern-European, Semitic, rather compact, little old man. Perhaps (he wonders) I have seen the inner image of myself. Perhaps (he smiles) I am happy just to have illusions. Our son’s beard and long Hasidic locks on a head never bowed in prayer hover over his guitar and, till he gets it just so, a heavy-metal riff. The picture of Ollie, our old pup,— his face speaks love, love, love. Like the holiday meal you’ll pretend to let me cook. Or when your hand gently strokes my heaving shoulder: I am sobbing silently because the movie has ended well—a good death, timely reconciliation, vows revived, a renewed breath. 36 3. Thanksgiving 4: To My Son This morning, as I drive from Northfield to Hampton past field after barren field, three wild turkeys foraging and gobbling at the edge of the road— their white-splashed wings, black-feathered trunks, It’s Friday, Z—, and (as always) time to say how much I love you (and your mom too, since I don’t say it often enough though I feel it every minute) and how much I miss you and hope you can spend a few hours with us and Grandma the first weekend in November. We worry about you every day, ‘cuz that’s our job, but we also have an abiding sense of how strong you are: How much you have been through, how far you’ve come, and how you face each day with grit—and, I hope, love. The latter is so hard to do: Over breakfast your mom and I sometimes sit around and whine about our work, about grading student papers. But a little later I’ll be walking across campus and the light will be just right and I’ll see a familiar face amid a group of young people and—I don’t know why—I feel love. I think that’s the word. And I felt it last time we picked you up downtown and you were talking to some scruffy stranger on the street. And the fact that you can still be open to such encounters—isn’t that love too?— filled me with wonder. It’s funny: Old people, among whom I am about to number, have proverbially been beyond wonder, such a romantic and old-fashioned word. But I swear that I still feel it—and that you are among the wonders of my world. red combs poking and pecking the gravel and weeds—surprise me. I flinch. The car swerves. I breathe. They range unruffled. 37 work in progress gabriel bergstrom 38 THE FIRE Elisabeth Beam I stood with my back to the crowd watching the house go up in flames. It happened faster than I had expected. It had taken less than a minute for the fire to spread from the kitchen to the living room and even less time for it to make its way upstairs and into the bedrooms where Grandma and the twins had been peacefully sleeping. Joel stood beside me; his face was dark with ash, his mouth tilted upwards in a sickeningly gleeful smile. Momma had never liked Joel. She said he was a troublemaker and I should do my best to stay away from him. Joel hadn’t always been mean. When I first met him he would bring me friends and make me laugh. He gave me my grey tabby cat, Walter, and my small white bunny, Snowy. We used to all run around the garden and play and laugh. I didn’t like it when Walter and Snowy played. Walter always hurt Snowy. Joel loved it. Snowy’s pain filled shrieks always brought a smile to his face. Joel would play tricks on Momma. He’d move the chair she was about to sit in and she’d tumble to the floor with a crash and a scream. He would put dead things in the twins’ crib for Momma to find. Once he brought a live snake into the house and slipped it into the shower when Momma was in it. She screamed something awful and had locked me in my room for a week. I always got blamed for Joel’s wicked tricks. Momma brought a lot of new friends to the house after that. She brought in men wearing long white coats who talked with me and asked questions about Joel and Walter and Snowy. Joel would stand behind them as they questioned me and make faces. I didn’t understand why they didn’t just talk to Joel and grew frustrated with their questions. Once Momma brought home a man in a black suit. He walked around the house mumbling in a strange language, throwing water on the walls and waving his cross around like a baton. I thought he was crazy. I told Momma and she told me to hush and sit down. The man stood in front of me yelling in his strange way and holding his cross on my forehead. It was cold and made me uncomfortable. Joel got upset. He didn’t like the man and the way he was 39 shouting. The next thing I knew the man was on the floor bleeding from a gash in his head and Joel was laughing loudly in my ear. A bunch of police officers showed up and Joel told me not to tell anyone what he’d done. He said I should blame it on Momma and she’d go away for a long time and stop bothering us. Momma shouted and cried and struggled as the police dragged her away to the sound of Joel’s gleeful laughter and the twins’ high pitched screams. Grandma came after Momma. She was mean. She locked me in my room and told me to stay there until I learned my lesson. I watched him stalk around the room at night mumbling darkly to himself. Grandma made me to go church with her every Sunday, she said I had to pray for my soul for what I’d done to that man and to Momma. I didn’t understand why everyone blamed me for Joel’s tricks and was tired of being punished for all the naughty things that he did. One night at supper, Joel made scary faces at the twins who started wailing. Grandma stood up and yelled at me as she tried desperately to calm the twins. She told me to go to my room. I said no. I pointed at Joel and yelled at him with all my might. This was all his fault. Grandma sent me to bed. Joel told me they were going to send me away. They would separate us and I would never be able to see him again. I told him I was fine with that because he was being horrible. That upset him. He got Walter and Snowy and made me watch as Walter ate Snowy. I cried. He laughed. Joel woke me up at midnight. He told me we could stay together. Me, him, and Walter, but we had to do 40 something first. He smelt like gasoline. He led me to the kitchen and pointed to the stove which was covered with a sticky, sweet smelling liquid. He told me to open my hands. I did. He handed me a lighter. I didn’t want to do it but Joel got angry when I tried to say no. He yelled and told me to do it for all the times Momma blamed me for something he did. That if I did this everyone would finally realize it was him doing all the bad things and not me. My hands were shaking so bad it took me five tries to get the lighter to ignite. When it did I froze and stared at the small flame in my hands. It flickered with every shuttering breath that came out of my mouth. Joel grew impatient and slapped the lighter out of my hand and onto the stove. There was a large whooshing noise and a blast of orange light. My arm hair stood on end and sweat trickled down my face. I backed away. Joel stood in front of the fire and laughed. He threw his arms out wide and danced in tune with the flames. He was crazy but his movements were so beautiful and fluid. It was frightening. The fire advanced toward me. I didn’t want to move. I wanted the fire to eat me like it was going to eat Grandma and the twins. Joel grabbed my hand and led me outside. We stood to the side and watched as the fire slowly ate up the house I had grown up in. The house that the priest, the twins, and Grandma had all died in. Sirens and smoke filled the night air. I looked to my side for Joel, but he had disappeared. DESERT DRUMS Abigail Carpenter When my London flatmate, Raoni, suggested we travel to Northern Africa because he was missing the heat of Brazil, we had no intention of visiting the Sahara Desert and the Atlas Mountains. But we quickly made friends with a generous and hospitable Moroccan man, Raxido, who invited us to a local drum circle at the edge of the Sahara Desert. After traveling on camelback against an orange-rayed sunset, we found ourselves among the sand dunes. We parked our camels single file near our camp, and I realized a place that once only existed in my dreams was now before me. I had to close my eyes for a long while. I opened them over and over again until I was sure of it. I had to reach down and let the sand fall between my fingers slowly. I had to breathe in the crisp, evening air. And when I looked up, the stars speckled in the sky like the summer freckles on my face, thousands and thousands of them. When the drum circle began, I let its music fill me up. It started in my toes and moved higher, tickled my fingers and sent goosebumps up my arms and back. The drums vibrated within my chest and when it reached my mouth, I screamed in laughter. My laugh echoed farther and farther across the desert, not meeting any person or town or house until it was miles and miles away. I wrapped my blanket a little tighter and watched my friends dance around the fire to the beat of the drums. Their legs moved up and down as their hands joined the ashes flying through the night air. For many hours, we sat around the fire, told our stories and spoke aloud our dreams. We danced and sang and took turns pounding the drums. We slept under the stars among the silence of the desert for only a few hours until the sun awoke us on the horizon. And moving through the deep sand, the sunrise at our backs, we rode our camels to the bus to escape the desert heat before it swallowed us up whole. 41 COLORS Hannah Schmit If I am a color call me red The color of passion and love Humanity worn on my sleeve The color of my blood, beating heart. Call me red. If I am a season call me fall With baited chilled breath I speak My words on whirlwind breezes fall An omen of changes to come Call me fall. If I am a sound call me silence. The chaos and stillness of calm My words lost yet encompassing In anticipation of something Call me silence If I am a thought call me hope The desire for something more A yearning call deep within me The need to breathe Call me hope. 42 urban delight jazmin crittenden 43 WHEN DAD WORE COLOGNE A. Tetzlaff “Did Grandpa Mike die?” My small voice broke a quiet that Dad and I carry easily between us. A radio frequency connecting our minds that communicates silently, so we don’t have to. Even at the age of three, I knew our sacred, noiseless space well. Dad took me to a park one day, nearby my childhood home. We rarely visited this park unless we intended to use its snowy slope for adrenaline rushes in our bright plastic sleds in the winter time. But it wasn’t wintertime now. My dad wore a blue t-shirt he’d owned since high school. Summer or spring, the season isn’t particularly distinct. The hills rose nakedly as we quietly approached. I’ve come back to the memory time and again; the images are blurred, like a positive photograph that didn’t come out of the darkroom correctly. I can’t recall how my father responded to my question, though I’m sure he patiently and painfully affirmed my query. In that moment I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t sad. Presently, I regret that I can’t remember a man who loved me and was so dearly loved by others. I don’t know how he looked aside from the pictures I know. How he talked, laughed, 44 yelled, walked, I don’t recall. Did he wear cologne to work like Dad? When I was young, Dad wore cologne to work. He woke up around five in the morning in order to be at work five-thirty, and he still does, despite the fact that no one expects him in the office till eight. I’d hear his alarm from my bed and wait to smell the mix of dewy summer grass and the spicy knives of cologne in my nostrils. The smell lingered and pulled me back to sleep as Dad left the house. On the day at the park, Dad wasn’t wearing cologne. Dad didn’t wear cologne that day because it was either a weekend or he had the day off or had taken time away to grieve. I don’t remember the call to our corded telephone late one night. It was the hospital telling Mom and Dad that my grandfather died of a heart attack while showering. I don’t know if he died immediately or if the attack was slow, painful, cold, and wet. I will never ask. The thought of breaking the stitches grief so tenuously sewed incites trepidation. Was my young face one of his last images? I’m vain enough to assume so––grandparents always think of the grandbabies first. Was it a comfort? I can only hope. At my Grandfather’s funeral, I can’t remember Mom’s grief. I can’t remember the funeral either.She keeps the remnants of her love tended like a flower garden and tells me of her father often. I have nothing but the cemented walkway leading to the park that summer day deep in my mind. Mom tells me that my grandfather lived as long as he did because he was waiting for me. It was a miracle I was even born, but that’s not my story to tell. She calls me “the sparkle in his eye.” Christopher, my younger and only brother, inherited my grandfather’s bright, Anglo-blue irises. He was born the year after my grandfather died. Christopher joined the Army a few weeks ago; my grandfather was a Marine in the 60s. During his service in Asia, my grandfather collected each country’s currency. Grandma keeps the collection in a red leather box in her bedroom closet. I used to step onto a chair and carefully extract the artifact from the top shelf and touch each coin and each bill. Some of those tenders are much extinct now. The souvenirs of my grandfather’s life are far less valuable to me than those of my travels––those, at least, the mugs and the key chains, those have memories attached of the real thing. I’ve spent most of my life scouring photos and objects, trying to resurrect an authentic memory of my grandfather. Trying to find a sensation that brings him back to me like the early morning scent of Dad’s cologne because I only remember the hills and my words and Dad. The solvents of time washed away my grandfather. 45 SHITTY CHRISTMAS TREES AND SECONDHAND DOLLS Elisabeth Beam When I was a kid we didn’t have a lot of money. But we managed to survive. Mom worked a lot at the dingy looking Super 8 Motel just down the street from the elementary school. You know, the kind of motel that charges by the hour instead of night. She hated it but it was close to school and paid just enough. Around November she would start picking up shifts at other hotels in town to save up more money for Christmas. It was hard. The heat bill always went up mid-October when the chill started to set in and the snow began to fall. Presents were always an issue. Getting stuff for just me and Sarah was usually alright, but Mom came from a big family. Six brothers and sisters all of whom had kids. All of whom would be needing presents. That’s a lot of money. Money we just didn’t have. One year there was a huge blizzard and they canceled school for a week. Sarah was only six at the time and she couldn’t be left alone to take care of herself much less a five-year-old as well. So mom had to stay home from work and look after us. She tried to make it seem like she wasn’t stressed out about the money, but I knew she was. She would pace around the kitchen at night and mumble to 46 herself. She’d crouch over her checkbook and shake her head. She tried to hide it from us, but I noticed. I always noticed when she got like that. A week of work missed meant we wouldn’t be able to afford the gas to get to grandma’s house for Christmas. And a week with everyone at home meant that the heat bill was going to be rough. She was too proud to try and get food stamps. So money that would normally go towards presents went to buying our Christmas feast. We didn’t go to my grandma’s house that Christmas but it was probably the best Christmas of my life. The day before school let out our landlord took out all the carpet in the living room. He said it was due to be replaced and that someone would be over before the holiday to put down some new carpet. “Your feet will be so happy and thankful! That’s the best Christmas present you could ask for!” he had happily told us. No one came. The floor was cold and there were nails and sharp staples sticking up at weird angles. It hurt to step on them and small red dots appeared throughout the house as we all made the mistake of stepping in the living room without socks. Mom put down an old ratty green rug, one that our cats liked to pee on. She bought a small fake green tree from the thrift shop downtown. It was the saddest looking tree. Most of the branches were missing so it had random bald spots sporadically around its leaning trunk. A good number of the ornaments that we put on it fell off because it couldn’t support their weight. We made new ones out of paper and glitter. Mom wrapped tinsel she’d taken from work around it and Sarah and I sloppily placed string lights. We put an old family picture at the top of the tree because we were too scared that our expensive Christmas angel would fall and break if we tried to stick her up there. Thinking back on it now it was a pretty shitty looking tree, but back then I thought it was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life. I remember sitting on the floor amongst the nails and staples and looking at it glittering and glistening and thinking that it was a far better tree than anyone else could ever have. I thought that even if we’d spend a million dollars on a tree and all its dressings that it wouldn’t even be able to come close to this masterpiece sitting before me. For Christmas Eve we blasted holiday music and ran around the living room twirling and waving our arms above our heads. Mom had somehow found time to make new flannel pajamas for both me and Sarah and we had immediately put them on. She had also given us each a doll that she’d found at a thrift store. They looked ratty and dirty but I loved them both. Every bit of dust and matted patch of hair was a story waiting to be told. The dolls had character and I loved it.That shitty tree and our thrift store dolls were great but they weren’t what made that night so special. It was that we were all together, making the most out of what we had and not lamenting what we were missing. I think as we grow up we lose the magic in secondhand dolls and shitty Christmas trees. 47 summer nights adam ruff 48 the people united adam ruff 49 after the hike adam ruff 50 CRUMBS Malena Larsen He’s looking for love In the crevices of his couch Like loose change. I saw him lift up the cushions And pull out crumbs His mother’s earring A quarter The spoon he dropped last week After eating ice cream out of the container. It was chocolate cookie dough and he ate the whole thing. I watched him put the quarter in his back pocket and the spoon back in the cushions. I told him I had been in love once And he said I like it when girls call me daddy. I had a dream that night that he was dating somebody and my stomach hurt when I woke up. I became a spoon in the couch cushion Who said words like Daddy And Fuck me And Hard. At the end of every night I was put back with the crumbs, and each day that he came to get me there was more cat hair or lint stuck to me I waited patiently Dirty For him to pick me up. It was 77 degrees the late summer night he stopped getting me from the cushions. He told me that he found somebody to love and we can’t be friends, because if I see you I’ll fuck you. I asked him why he couldn’t control himself if he was in love with somebody. The inside of my ribcage Was being scraped empty 51 Like the chocolate cookie dough ice cream container And my stomach hurt Like it did after the dream Where he wasn’t mine I can’t help it. He told me. I like it when girls call me daddy. When we met he was wearing a suit and it looked like he had spent a lot of time on his hair but I didn’t think he was attractive until the weekend when I was drunk. Across the table On the other side of red cups And puddles of water He stared at me In a grey tank top. His eyes And arms Were strong 52 And dark. Making eye contact felt like sex And he smelled like Fireball And somebody I shouldn’t be alone with And too much cologne. We went swimming at 6 am at the neighbor’s lakefront when everyone else fell asleep. He took off his shirt I kept mine on. The water fell off of him like it didn’t want to keep his body covered for too long. He picked me up and folded me over his right shoulder and threw me into the 6 am summer sweet lake water. He drove me home At 7 am Still drunk and Smitten. It was 88 degrees and my birthday the night I let him kiss me in the back hallway of our friend’s frat. I couldn’t wait anymore He told me In the house that smelled like Liquor and dust And damp wood. The first time we Fucked Was in the front seat of his White Pontiac Grand prix At 11 pm on a Tuesday. I saw him almost As an animal. His fists Were clenched And his eyebrows Like shelves Over his beetle eyes. Do you like fucking daddy? After that night I had to sneak him into my bedroom because he couldn’t do all of the positions he wanted to in his car. He needed to prove to me that he was the best fuck and that he could make me cum and that I should call him Daddy. I had never called fucking, fucking before. Before I was a dirty spoon it had only been called love. His eyes started to remind me Of Tiny Round Black beetles. There’s nobody else anymore We should just keep fucking. And when we fucked It was 66 degrees and almost fall when he came to my house in his white Pontiac Grand Prix and told me I remembered then, the quarter he put in his pants and how he used me to eat his ice cream and then put me back with all the crumbs in the cushions of 53 his couch Where he keeps looking for love Like it’s the loose change In his back pocket. 54 bloomed audrey campbell 55 pruned audrey campbell 56 HERMAN Danny Polaschek Grape juice dribbled down Herman’s chin and landed in scattered droplets down the front of his white T-shirt. He didn’t notice and, after setting down his half-emptied glass, picked up his spoon and started on his bowl of bran flakes. Sitting at the kitchen table, there was nothing in front of Herman —but a bare white wall. It seemed, however, that he wasn’t looking at it, but rather through it like a child looks through a window and, seeing nothing but gray skies and rain, is overwhelmed by disappointment because they will not be outdoors playing that day. As Herman sat there facing the white wall and chomping his cereal, his son entered the kitchen and began his morning ritual. Herman heard the coffee-maker start bubbling from somewhere behind him in the kitchen along with the quick and efficient pitter-pattering of his son’s feet, who Herman assumed had to be walking laps around the center island as some sort of new, trendy morning workout. Once the coffee maker’s burbling came to an end the footsteps stopped as well. Herman focused on the sound of the coffee being poured, the soft sound of liquid filling a ceramic mug. The sound stopped as quickly as it had started and Herman was further drawn from his relaxed, monotonous state by the sound of his son’s voice. “How are the flakes this morning, Dad?” Herman didn’t turn around to face his son, but continued with what he was doing, looking like a cow chewing cud. “Five star quality,” he replied in between spoonfuls. “Flaky as ever.” Herman’s son chuckled a bit and looked up from his fresh cup of coffee but the laugh died away when he noticed that his father was still turned away from him, eyes glued straight ahead. Taking another sip, Herman’s son pondered whether he would keep pursuing his father in conversation or not. He ultimately decided against it and left the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. A sigh escaped Herman’s throat as he set down his spoon, finished with his mushed and soggy cereal. Ain’t this the life, he thought to himself sarcastically. Finally turning away from the wall, Herman scooted himself back from the kitchen table and slowly stood up. He gripped the side of the table for balance and took a few deep breaths in an effort to steady himself. Just a few weeks before, Herman had 57 missed a stair descending to the basement and found himself tumbling clumsily down the rest of the way until crashing to a stop on the last few steps. Herman’s head still felt a bit shaky from time to time, which caused a bit of a tremble in his legs. Instead of walking from place to place, he grew accustomed to maneuvering his way to each destination by leaning on and grabbing anything he could for support and then flinging himself to another sturdy checkpoint, and so on and so forth until he reached his goal. It was much like a monkey swinging from vine to vine, but less precise and much less graceful. With his feet finally under him, legs steady, Herman pushed away from the kitchen table and launched himself to the kitchen counter, which caught him with cold indifference. Hunched over, Herman caught his breath for a few seconds before beginning to shuffle down the length of the marble counter towards the coffeemaker at the other end. “This better be a damn good cup of Joe,” he mumbled to himself, clearly exhausted. Halfway down the counter, Herman stopped. With a steady grip on the counter he reached up to the cupboard above his head and swung it open. He couldn’t see inside but he knew that what he was looking for was in there: his old blue coffee mug— one of the only things worth bringing with when he moved into his son’s house the year before. Feeling around the smooth, wooden interior, Herman eventually got a hold of his mug which distinguished itself by having only half of a handle still attached. With the partial handle hooked onto his ring and middle fingers, Herman pulled out his mug and brought it shakily down over his head, setting it on the counter with a soft “clink.” Herman was beginning to feel dizzy at this 58 point, and wished for a moment that he had listened to the doctor about getting a walker. “Mr. Huckley,” the doctor said, “even if you don’t think you’ll use it, take it anyways. Just in case.” Herman didn’t take the walker, and wouldn’t even let anyone help to walk him out of the hospital, not even his son. “I don’t need your damn help,” he snorted each time someone tried to take his arm to steady him. He was always a stubborn man and old age wasn’t going to change that. Continuing down the counter, Herman felt this same stubborn anger boiling in him. He was almost seventy years old and yet he felt like a child who was just learning to walk. He’d built his own home, and a garage to go with it, and now he could hardly make it to the opposite end of the room without feeling fatigued. Sweat was running hot from Herman’s forehead. He wiped it with a shaky hand and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. He only had five or so more steps to go and he braced himself for the final stretch, determined to get there even if it killed him. With a focused balance and patient, shuffling steps Herman managed to get to the end of the counter and the coffee pot. He exhaled in relief, and a satisfied smile tugged the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly. With his blue mug in one hand, Herman picked up the coffeepot in the other, intent on pouring himself a well-deserved cup of coffee after his tiresome journey. His satisfaction was immediately replaced with bitterness as he lifted the pot and felt that it was nearly empty, only a few drops remained rolling around in the bottom. Herman’s minute smile had vanished and his brow hardened, scrunching up his forehead in small, tense knots. Setting the pot back on the counter, Herman hissed repeatedly under his breath, cursing his son for not leaving him any coffee. Herman’s hands were visibly trembling and he was having a difficult time keeping a grip on the edge of the counter. He contemplated making more coffee but dismissed the idea immediately, knowing that he could not remain standing and moving around the kitchen much longer. Herman felt a hot flush come over his face and could feel beads of sweat rolling down his temples and his cheeks. In one swift motion he wound up and threw his coffee mug across the room, where it shattered against the windowless, white wall. Slivers and shards of ceramic bounced all over the kitchen, the blue pieces scattered like shattered glass. Herman heard footsteps drumming down the staircase before his son entered the room,stopping in the doorway to avoid stepping on any of the pieces of blue ceramic. “Dad!” he exclaimed, “What happened? Herman was bent over, hunched with his hands on his knees. He was struggling for breath now, and sweat soaked through his shirt on his back. In between wheezes, Herman said exasperated, “You didn’t leave me any damn coffee, you son of a bitch.” His son stood there eyeing first his father and then the indent in the wall where the mug had hit. He shook his head in disbelief, which quickly turned to anger. With a clenched jaw, he left the room and returned a minute later with broom in hand. He began quietly sweeping the blue bits of coffee mug into a dustpan. After Herman had caught his breath and recomposed himself, he pulled his body back into a standing position, leaning against the counter. He glanced to his son, bent over and sweeping under the kitchen table. “I heard you on the phone last night,” he said. Herman kept his eyes on his son as he stood and turned to face him. His son raised an eyebrow at him but gave no verbal reply. “I heard you,” Herman repeated. His son bit his lip and continued sweeping, eyes trained on the floor. “It’s just not working, dad.” 59 EL BARRIO SUYO Chad Berryman El viento le envolvió al hombre como una manta de hielo. Él andaba por el barrio suyo pero los vecinos no lo saludaron. Caminaba delante de una casa grande con flores y grandes ventanas, y por esas ventanas podía oír una pelea entre dos padres y los lamentos penosos de sus hijos. Él seguía la acera que serpenteaba por un parque lindo donde había un banco solitario. Él Lo saludó con la cabeza. Recordaba unas noches del verano cuando este banco no había ofrecido insultos ni acusaciones, sino un lugar simpático para descansar mientras él le regalaba un uso admirable. Pero en el invierno el banco se congelaba como él, y ambos eran incapaces de ayudarse el uno al otro. Paseaba delante de una casa blanca de arquitectura maravillosa. Un coche altanero llegara la entrada. Un padre sincero apareció mientras acababa de contar los acontecimientos de su día. Su hija miraba su celular, y el silencio suspiró por la expresión herida de la cara del padre. Ellos entraron a la casa sin otra palabra. El hombre nómada seguía caminando, y pronto la nieve dentro de sus venas se derretía por una balada antigua que se tarareaba al ritmo de sus pasos. 60 No pido mucho, no vivo de prisa canto los himnos con risa bendita no tengo nada salvo alma amada y sin despedida no hay la llegada THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD Chad Berryman The frigid air wrapped around the man like a blanket of ice. He was travelling through his own neighborhood, but no neighbors acknowledged him. As he walked in front of a large, picturesque house, complete with flowers and giant windows, he could make out the sound of two parents fighting accompanied by the upsetting cries of their children. The sidewalk snaked its way through a park in which there stood one solitary bench. With a nod of his head, the man greeted it. Nights of summers past filled his mind, nights in which the bench had not offered insults or accusations but rather a consoling place of rest while he presented it with the gift of an honorable purpose. However, the bench froze and shivered in the winter the same as he, and neither could provide the other with any relief. He passed by a white house of grand construction. There, a flashy car had just pulled into the driveway. From it emerged an earnest father finishing the recounting of his day. His daughter, however, simply stared at her phone, and the wounded expression on her father’s face betrayed an unsung sigh. The two entered the house without another word. As the wandering man continued walking, the snow in his veins began to melt due to an old tune he commenced to hum in time with his steps. I don’t ask for much, or live in a rush in my blessed laughter the hymns come alive there’s nothing I own save a soul that is loved for without a farewell one could never arrive 61 ODYSSEY Eve Taft Thank you for the twisted pathways of your mind Which led to the streets and alleyways of Dublin James Joyce, do you understand that you opened floodgates? Your avalanche of babbling sentences, sans punctuation Buck Mulligan tossing form and style into the wind Your catechism, you, Daedalus, gave us sacrament Blood flow to wake up the numb limbs of literature You spoke with your soul to our souls Fearing not the noise in your skull but flinging it down in ink I understand you, “life is many days” I understand you, “god is a shout in the street” I understand you, “I am another now and yet the same” You understand me “everything speaks in its own way” Soon I’ll visit your beloved homeland Walking the streets of Dublin, writing and giving thanks to modernism Now as free of rigid form As Ireland of England 62 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 63 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 64 COUNTING SHEEP Danny Polaschek What can you do when the world is asleep? Go to sleep too? I’ve counted all my sheep. They jumped through the air gliding for 5 or 6 feet cleared the fence and then flew with not even a bleat. I didn’t focus however on these aerial sheep antics because far away in the distance was a sight oh so fantastic. A blue house, with a single light on in the window sat a girl a beauty no pencil could ever have drawn. I looked up at her and she down at me addicted to the eyesight too distracted to count sheep. 65 3 sky nights keeyonna fox 67 inner self keeyonna fox 68 VICTORY OF THE PEOPLE Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk Your worship was my refuge, your clay heart my focal point, your chelsea smile the apple of my eye. We were sick. We poisoned ourselves with amphetamines and pills until we didn’t recognize ourselves in the mirror. We walked miles just to feel accomplished in our space, we turned the cigarettes we shared into sentiments we thought we shared. I must possess the wrong innocence. Souls are fickle things that change when left to die in the cold. ~ He was outrageously tall. He towered over me like the Statue of Liberty and he talked to me as though I was a boat in the harbor. Standing five inches taller than six feet, he was an image of Ukrainian beauty. He stood like someone who knew things you didn’t know and this fascinated me. I was so naive, so optimistic. I saw the lust and want in his eyes and I mistook it for passion.The curve of his jaw and his long eyelashes crept into the screens behind my eyelids and ignited a fire in me that I didn’t know how to put out. I was the new girl in town struggling to keep my loneliness at bay. He was a gleaming light in that summer of darkness. I had just moved to Minnesota months before. After discovering drugs and promiscuous sex I became nothing short of a hurricane. Amphetamines kept me awake, cigarettes kept me skinny, and weed kept me sane. My GPA reflected exactly what they don’t tell you about functional depression: you can feel like a blank page, but as long as you fill it with words people will stop asking questions. He was selling me drugs. He offered me a good price. I had never met him but I figured what the hell, I could stand to meet new people. It was dark, long past sundown. We were meeting in a parking lot by a lake a few blocks away from my house. I was in my mom’s car. I waited and listened to Amy Winehouse until I saw an orange car pull into a parking spot a few yards away from me. The man driving fit the picture I had seen of him before. We 69 made eye contact and he ushered me over to his car. I took a deep breath, grabbed my sweater, and got my money ready. He rolled down the passenger side window. “You Nikita?” I said. He smiled at me. A smile that I would come to know. “You can call me Kita.” ~ He had really good drugs. I’m not sure that they were pure, but at the time I didn’t care. Neither did he. We just wanted to get high. We did his drugs together, sitting in a playground by the lake, talking about life and what we crave. He told me that he was applying to a college in London. I didn’t think anything of it. Before long we saw each other every day. He was a lifeguard who had to be on duty early in the morning, so he would take me out for coffee at eight in the morning. No makeup, sweatpants, my hair in a messy bun. He didn’t care. We would talk about things that we hadn’t shared with anyone else. He told me he struggled with his relationship with his father in Ukraine. I told him that I had struggled with eating disorders since I was thirteen. We would sneak out onto his back porch to smoke cigarettes late at night. His mother hated that we smoked. 70 “You need to quit smoking, love,” she’d tell me. “I smoked for twenty-five years and it took two pregnancies to get me to stop.” His mother loved me. She thought that I was spunky, independent, had a mind of my own. She did not like his last girlfriend. She made that very clear. She, like Nikita, was very tall. She had long curly black hair and eyes so intense that you would lose your appetite. Her Russian accent was thick and powerful. She had run away to the United States when she was twenty-one and seven months pregnant with her first son. Nikita. “Does it mean anything?” I asked him. “Your name.” He smiled when he answered. “My mom told me it means ‘victory of the people,’” he said. Oh Kita, you have no victory. You are the secret I keep from my mother the hidden disease that projectile vomits and digs with fingernails sharpened by teeth. Your fields of sunflowers told me a secret, your secrets so dark and beautiful and I killed myself with your gargantuan sunflowers. His mother was beautiful. She had been a professional figure skater that traveled the world, meeting people as she went. She met Kita’s father in her home country of Ukraine and according to the story, he was immediately drawn to her exuberant personality and her long legs. At twenty-one she was well on her way to continue pursuing a successful skating career until she got pregnant. According to Kita his father did not accompany her to her appointments.He did not send her flowers. He did not ask if she was okay. Instead Kita’s mother made her way to America to create a life of victory and hope. He took me to meet his grandmother. She said hello and came in and that was the last that I understood. The entire time I was there she would ask me questions in Russian and Kita would translate for me. He taught me how to say Hello (Privet) Yes (da) No (net) And thank you, which I don’t remember. We spent almost the entire time we were there trying to help his grandmother set up a new movie streaming program on her computer. I know nothing about computers in English, let alone in Russian. I was overwhelmed. The leather furniture just made my nervous sweat more noticeable. She told me about Ukraine a little bit. She said it was beautiful but troubled. She offered me chocolate and cookies. I sat, sweating, trying my hardest to pay attention. When I said anything to her, Kita would translate for me. I wanted to leave. After we left his grandmother’s house he told me to wait in his car while he talked privately with his grandmother. I thought it was strange but didn’t question it. I played mindless games on my phone while I waited for him. Some part of me knew that they were talking about me, but I continued to deny it. I was hungry, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything about it too soon. I was hungry often then. When he returned to the car I asked what they had talked about and with no hesitation he said, “You.” I paused, then asked him to elaborate. “She likes you,” he said. And that was that. How strange, I thought, to be liked by someone who never explicitly spoke a word to me. ~ Andrevich was Kita’s middle name. Named after his father. Kita’s father was very handsome. In his forties with tan skin and thick hair, he was a heartthrob that would make you look twice. He lived in a nice, expensive apartment in Kiev with his girlfriend who was twenty years younger than him. Apparently that was a theme. Kita had only seen his father a handful of times in his life. He had gone back to Ukraine to spend some time with him as a young boy, but didn’t have too much recollection of it. When he was sixteen he went back to live with his father and his twenty-yearold girlfriend for a while. Kita has always been tall, thin, and handsome. His father noticed this. “So what happened?” I asked him one day. 71 Kita shrugged. “He kicked me out and I came back to the states,” he said without a flinch. He said this as though it was a commonality. “He thought that I fucked his girlfriend,” he said as he lit a cigarette. There was a very long, uncomfortable silence. “Did you?” I asked. He laughed out loud and a cloud of smoke poured out of his mouth. “No, of course not,” he said. “My dad isn’t one to listen to a sixteen year old.” ~ “I’ll take you to Ukraine someday.” “Sunflowers. There are parts of Ukraine where there are endless fields of sunflowers wherever you look. They’re as tall as me and the flowers are bigger than my face.” He pulled me closer as he talked about Ukraine. He insisted that I learn all that I could about the Russia-Ukraine conflict, sending me innumerable articles daily. Through him I learned about the importance of the Ukrainian revolution and fights that had been fought, some as recent as 2011 and 2012. He told me that he wanted to fight for his people if he had to. When my eyes were flushed with concern, he pulled me in close and whispered in my ear, “I’ll survive for you.” His eyes lit up every time he talked about the fields of sunflowers in Ukraine. In the same way, his eyes lit up every time he got angry. Your golden eyes drew miners to starve and fight to abandon their homes. We were in his bed, naked, wrapped up in blankets and speckled by the corner light in his room. It was late, the kind of late that feels early. The air conditioner hummed in the place of our phones which were both off and hidden somewhere in the room. He did no wrong. He could not do any wrong. His eyes were blank but telling like a wall in a foreclosed home. All of his intentions were good. Yes. Good. “Where in Ukraine?” I asked. “Have you been eating?” he asks as he lifts up my shirt. “Kiev, the city squares. And to the huge fields of flowers.” “What kind of flowers?” 72 ~ I squirm away and pull my shirt down. “Yes, I ate just before I came here,” I say. I can still taste the salt in my mouth. “You look skinny,” he tells me with a hint of disdain in his voice. My heart soars. I look skinny. But he’s reaching for my stomach again and once again I’m backing away. We get into the car and drive to the gas station. I say that I need to go use the restroom. While Kita pumps the gas, I make my way into the small Holiday bathroom. I put my sweater on the ground and rest my knees on it, my usual routine. I stick my finger down my throat and vomit into the toilet. As I walk back outside, Kita is getting back into his car. I get in the front seat and sniffle slightly.Kita looks at me quizzically. “You okay?” he asks me. My eyes are watery, my nose is burning, and my breath is putrid. “I’m fine,” I say with a smile. ~ The elevator door was so cold against my cheek. I watched the red numbers blink as they rose. 8...9...10...11. My vision was going fuzzy and grey, my ears started ringing and throbbing. 11...12...13. Ding. The doors opened and my wobbly legs carried me down the seemingly endless hallway. My hands were barely working; as I watched them push my key into my apartment door I could not feel it. The door opened, I could see my living room window. I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the ground. “Why did you faint?” His words echoed behind the screen of my phone. “I just haven’t eaten a lot today.” There was a silence so deafening that it struck fear in my heart. Fear I had not known. “When did you eat last?” He had anger in his voice. I paused. He would know if I lied but he would hate the truth. “I had a little dinner last night,” I said quietly. “What did you eat?” His reply was sharp. I was shaking. “I had a little bit of salad I think,” I said with a quivering voice. I could hear his sigh. I can still hear his sigh. “How many times have we talked about this?” He exclaimed. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…” It didn’t matter. He didn’t listen. I had failed him again. “Do you know what it’s like to have a girlfriend that can’t even take care of herself ?” “What am I going to tell my friends?” “You’re not even trying.” I was sobbing, I was convulsing, I was sweating, all from my bed from which I could not move. My phone was glued to my ear and I had no energy to remove it. “So what are you going to do about this?” There was intense spite in his words. With a shaky voice I said, “I could send you a picture of everything I eat?” He laughed. With his full, angry throat he laughed 73 at my pain. “And do what? Post it on Facebook? Show all my friends that my girlfriend is an anorexic who can’t even feed herself ? You know what, go ahead. Maybe that’ll help you change.” I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die. My stomach kept whispering “never again, never again, never again.” Opening my mouth made me panic because it reminded me of eating. I hung up my phone and with wobbly legs I walked outside in the snow and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. ~ Months go by. Months. I watched him pack his bag with clothes that I had never seen him wear. He packed light, only a few shirts and two pairs of pants. “My dad will buy me more when I get to Ukraine,” he said. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched him focus on folding his clothes. His visa sat in the center of the bed, staring at me. I started to cry. “Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Kita said without breaking focus. I watched him form a pile of the shirts that I had grown used to him wearing. They looked like wilted flower petals. 74 “Why aren’t you taking those?” I asked, pointing to the wilted pile. “My father won’t like them,” he said. Later that night, we were drinking red wine in his bed. His room was bare and cold. I was curled against his side, my head on his chest. He stroked my bare back and played with my hair. I sighed, but not the kind of sigh that’s followed with kisses. Kita sighed too. “Petra,” he said, a tone of exasperation in his voice. “If I ever treat you like my father treats women, please leave me.” ~ I still remember how to say “I love you” in Russian. “я люблю тебя.” Ya lyublyu tebya. ~ My fingers were bones. Anything beyond mascara was too much, especially lipstick. He hated lipstick. He thought that it brought too much attention to my mouth. He didn’t like when other people noticed me. He stopped smoking cigarettes and instructed me to do so too. “They’ll make you age faster,”he would say. If I had a bad day and smoked a cigarette, he would tell me he was disappointed. I lived with three men at the time, something that Kita would never let me forget. He asked every few days to be sure I wasn’t sleeping with any of my roommates. If I was spending too much time with a friend, he would tell me that I was neglecting him. He sent me articles outlining how to be a better partner. He reminded me that he just wanted me to be the best that I could be. The screaming and hour-long phone calls were footnotes. You stripped me of my dignity and told me, “This is what you have.” Your monstrous arms crawl into my nightmares Your titanic stature collided with my glacier and though you claim I sank you You were a behemoth and I was a stone. At the end, I fell into the ground. His screams surrounded me in my echo chamber and suffocated me. My knees were bruised from kneeling in front of the toilet all night. How apt for the one accused of dropping to her knees for all men. I was free but I did not know it yet. All I knew was the cold floor of my bathroom and the tales of beautiful but troubled Ukraine. My goodbyes have been said, These addictions fed. It’s the cost that comes with the sickness. And your screams won’t be heeded anymore. 75 AN OPEN LETTER TO THE UN-SPECIALS Halle Chambers When we are little, even before we can speak We are told that we’re special and that we’re unique. That we all are made different and that none are the same Which fits quite nicely in a toddler’s mind frame. And we are told we should treasure what’s different inside, That what makes us different is not something to hide. But then quite soon after, things start to change; The word “different” stops meaning “special” and starts meaning “strange.” We’re sectioned off from our average peers In our own little category and told, “you belong here,” And then different is bad and normal is good, And for the different ones, nothing is working the way that it should The way we’ve been taught or the way we’ve been shown All we know is that we do not like being lost on our own. 76 So once again we are taken away To a place where things makes sense again and we’re ok: Where no one hurts us, Where no one can see, Where no one deserts us, Where we can be free. But because the un-specials can’t see what goes on, They decide to make things up and get so much wrong. And it’s happened for years because they can’t see through that door. So long they don’t even know that it’s wrong anymore. It’s so fixed in their heads that these lies are right; They judge each special kid by their stereotype. But today that will end. So you sit there and you wait, cause it’s about time someone set the dang record straight. You probably think that this poem won’t cut it, But today I’m gonna open the door and don’t you dare shut it! To start, let’s be clear: I am...I was in Special Ed. But just because I was in that room doesn’t mean I’m brain dead! So for Pete’s sake, don’t puppy dog guard me! Just give me a break, it isn’t that hard see: If I need your help, I will tell you I do. Just please, Please don’t mock me. In my place, would you want me to mock you? “Oh come on! Let her get it! Go easy on her!” Help, where not needed, is almost as bad as a slur. I’m not invalid So don’t play that card. Yeah, I’m a little quirky and oversensitive, But I’m not, and I quote, “A little retard.” Yeah, I’ve been called names. And those words? They hurt. They catch in the center, In your pit of self worth. And they tear and they rip, And those words are collective. Soon you start to believe that you are defective. I’ve dealt with them all, and surprisingly, I actually prefer the straight up bullies To those who pretend to like me. Fake friends and two-faces Of all genders and races. They’re only my friends so they don’t have to see me cry. Or they use me, abuse me, Oh, how they confuse me! Cause I can’t tell what’s truth and what’s lie. “Hey! He likes you. Go give him a kiss!” And because I don’t know better, I believe this. But soon I find they’re not playing Cupid, They just wanna make me look stupid. For their entertainment, they make me play the 77 fool; They pretend that they care for me When they’re really just cruel. It takes time and takes work to make you forget; Even now, I’m not quite there yet. I mean, here I am, in what’s supposed to be home, And yet here I am, still feeling alone. I’m still paranoid, it doesn’t just end; I still have to ask if someone’s my friend. I say one thing and mean another; I make a mistake, But you take it verbatim. Can’t you cut me a break? If we’re talking and I look like I’m lost, Don’t blow it off like it’s not worth the cost. Sarcasm and subtlety muddle in my brain, So please just take a minute to explain. Do these quirks make me broken? Is there something wrong with me? The way society has spoken, There would seem to be. 78 Stop poisoning the minds of “different” young women and men. I don’t like being defective.... Can I be special again? SOREX PALUSTRIS Emilie Tomas Did they name you for Your wit, pointed Nose of pointed judgement Who brought us fire; five to seven inches of shrewd truth? Or was it your mischief That Inspired them? Your Presence followed by screams And a three inch tail. I saw your likeness on a stage, Dirt in place of your midnight coat Though she is reformed now. Perhaps it was the gleam in your Eyes; whispered fortunes and A summer of silver birth. Maybe you are a messenger Of God, somehow in your Eighteen months you learned to walk On water, the second coming Of Christ. 79 woodsy adam ruff gabriel bergstrom 80 WORDS Malena Larsen The bathroom wall was covered in words. Words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. His body looked peaceful, somehow, as he sat propped and slumped against the door. His head hung to his right shoulder and his mouth was open like he was about to say something but was interrupted. There was blood running down his left arm like a river and a needle hung loosely out of his skin. The words that he had heard her say several hours earlier were getting quieter and quieter. “It’s not working,” she had told him. “I’m sorry.” They were smoking cigarettes outside her apartment when she said it. She knew he had been trying to fix himself. After twenty-eight days of treatment and one week in a sober house on Lake and Fifth she barely recognized him. He was twenty-five pounds heavier and his skin looked clean and strong; there was no more grey in his cheeks. It wasn’t just his change in appearance that scared her. Lately, he had been telling her the difference between wrong and right and that she should stay in on the weekends. His family couldn’t stop talking about how proud they were of him and they would ask her, “Doesn’t he just seem so much better?” She would answer with yes but feel guilty because she wished he still liked to make mistakes. His family had a party after he got out of treatment and his grandfather kept saying things like, “Men in this family have always been strong!” and, “Now he can take care of you.” His grandfather didn’t care for her much but he felt that she was the least of the boy’s problems. He didn’t like the way she hung on him like a scarf or the way she agreed with everything he said without a second thought. As he sat on the bathroom floor the words she had said were getting quieter and quieter. They were almost gone. He had been sober for thirty-five days and he didn’t know why. He didn’t feel better or stronger or more loved. His hand lay loosely on the floor, palm up and open like he was waiting for somebody to hold it. Everyone was so proud of him but he couldn’t imagine living his life without her. Long after her words had faded completely, the bathroom door opened. He fell back onto the floor. His head hitting hard against the tile. 81 “Oh my gosh!” The man who opened the door yelled. “Can someone help?” He took out his phone to call 911. A crowd of people rushed over to where the man was dialing. A young man pushed past the group of people. “Move!” The boy got on his knees by the body on the floor. He reached into his pocket and took out something that looked like a pen. He stuck it into the arm of the body that was needle free. People gasped and murmured and watched. Sirens rang in the distance. The boy holding the pen looked up at the bathroom wall that had words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. He looked up at the group of people. “It’s not working,” he said. 82 MALCOLM AND THE BLUE SIDE Danny Polaschek Brown leaves dragged past Malcolm’s feet in the wind. The bench underneath him felt like a rock and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He stared at the empty playground—the tire swing, the slide, the bridge and the fireman’s pole. Nikki rested her head on his shoulder. Each time a breeze swept through, Malcolm could feel her nuzzle slightly closer, her hair scratching and tickling his neck. When he was a kid, Malcolm had sat on this exact same bench many times with his mother. They lived in a little blue house just a few blocks away— “just a hop and a skip,” his mother would say and Malcolm would make it his mission to jump and bunny-hop the whole way there. When they arrived, they’d eat lunch, sitting together on the narrow, wooden bench. After each bite of his sandwich, Malcolm would beg his mother to let him go play, to which she would give in once she herself had
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Title: Murphy Square 2017: Murphy Square Visual Art and Literary Magazine
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Ed...
Show more MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Editor Ryan Moore, Prose Editor Gabriel Benson, Poetry Editor Danny Polaschek, Poetry Editor Cary Waterman, Advisor 2 WITH THANKS TO Ivy Arts Copy and Print Augsburg College Student Government Augsburg College English Department Augsburg College Art Department The Echo Augsburg Honors Program QPA 3 TABLE OF CONTENTS 1 What Type of Black Girl Are You? Nikkyra Whittaker ........................................................................... 8 Simul Justus et Peccator, Andy Anderson .......................................................................................... 11 Queer, Eve Taft ....................................................................................................................................... 12 Jesus in a Cracker, A.Tetzlaff ................................................................................................................ 14 Grey Cloud Island, David Baboila ......................................................................................................... 17 Saint Paul Airport, David Baboila .......................................................................................................... 18 White Bear Lake, David Baboila ............................................................................................................ 19 Zips Coliseum, David Baboila ............................................................................................................... 20 Bridge, Jacob J. Miller ............................................................................................................................ 21 50 Feet Tall, Emilie Tomas ...................................................................................................................... 25 Meow, Ashley Waalen ............................................................................................................................ 26 Mousetrap, Halle Chambers .................................................................................................................. 27 Faces, Constance Klippen ..................................................................................................................... 29 I Don’t Always Feel Colored, Diamonique Walker ............................................................................... 30 Where I am From, Hannah Schmit ......................................................................................................... 32 Who Am I?, Ashley Waalen .................................................................................................................... 34 2 Gratitude, D.E Green .............................................................................................................................. CSBR, Gabriel Bergstrom ...................................................................................................................... The Fire, Elisabeth Beam ........................................................................................................................ Desert Drums, Abigail Carpenter .......................................................................................................... Colors, Hannah Schmit ........................................................................................................................... Urban Delight, Jazmin Crittenden ......................................................................................................... When Dad Wore Cologne, A. Tetzlaff .................................................................................................... Shitty Christmas Trees, Elisabeth Beam ............................................................................................... Summer Nights, Adam Ruff ................................................................................................................... 36 38 39 41 42 43 44 46 48 The People United, Adam Ruff .............................................................................................................. 49 After the Hike, Adam Ruff ..................................................................................................................... 50 Crumbs, Malena Larsen ......................................................................................................................... 51 Bloomed, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................................................... 55 Pruned, Audrey Campbell ...................................................................................................................... 56 Herman, Danny Polaschek ................................................................................................................... 57 El Barrio Suyo, Chad Berryman ............................................................................................................. 60 The Neighborhood, Chad Berryman ..................................................................................................... 61 Odyssey, Eve Taft .................................................................................................................................... 62 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 63 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 64 Counting Sheep, Danny Polaschek ...................................................................................................... 65 3 Sky Nights, Keeyonna Fox ...................................................................................................................... 67 Inner Self, Keeyonna Fox ....................................................................................................................... 68 Victory of the People, Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk ............................................................................. 69 An Open Letter to the Un-specials, Halle Chambers ...........................................................................76 Sorex Palustris, Emilie Tomas ................................................................................................................. 79 Woodsy Adam Ruff, Gabriel Bergstrom .................................................................................................. 80 Words, Malena Larsen ................................................................................................................................. 81 Malcom, Danny Polaschek ....................................................................................................................... 83 DRIVING AT ZERO ONE, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 85 DRIVING AT ZERO TWO, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 86 Placemakers, Diamonique Walker ........................................................................................................ 87 A Necessary Evil Thing Considered in any Light, Jacob J. Miller ....................................................... 88 1 WHAT TYPE OF BLACK GIRL ARE YOU? Nikkyra Whittaker On the spectrum of being black and female, we can only be what we appear to be. Take this quiz to find out what kind of black girl you really are! 1. You’re listening to the radio on the way to Target. You’re playing… a. Beyonce’s “****Flawless” b. Taylor Swift’s “Fifteen” or “You Belong With Me” or “Wildest Dreams” c. Chris Brown’s “Loyal” d. Keri Hilson’s “Pretty Girl Rock” 2. It’s your day off work. What will you be doing? a. Blowing off steam on Facebook. b. Watching old episodes of One Tree Hill c. Out for drinks and scoping eye candy d. Talking shit with the ladies while drinking Moscato! 3. What’s your dream home like? a. Full of books on systemic oppression b. Beverly Hills penthouse c. Some big shot rapper’s mansion d. Spacious New York Loft 8 4. Your favorite TV show is… a. Docu-series on race b. Sex in the City c. Bad Girls Club d. Love and Hip Hop 5. Finally, who’s your favorite female icon from this list? a. Angela Davis b. Taylor Swift c. New York from I Love New York d. Nicki Minaj Tally up how many of each letter you got and turn the page to find out who you really are! If you got mostly a’s...You’re an Angry Black Girl! Congratulations, you loud-mouthed, anger filled home-girl! I’m guessing there’s always some reason to be mad at someone, isn’t there? Do you just spend your days in a perpetual state of rage, angry at the world for reasons they don’t find important? Do you find yourself constantly snapping your fingers in that z-formation, pursing your lips at anyone who steps in your way? I bet people are telling you to just be quiet, huh? I mean, what issues could you, a black female, possibly have? Why should you care that your high school English teacher gives you a C+ on your essay because she thinks you copied it from the white man online? Why does it matter that your male co-worker at Target constantly teases you about your nappy hair, calling it a “brillo pad,” “cheeto puff,” or some other clever name? None of this should anger you! Be aware, you sassy Sapphire, in this world, your anger means nothing. If you got mostly b’s...You’re an Oreo! You grew up watching Lizzie McGuire and listening to Aaron Carter. You straightened your hair from the moment you were old enough to assert yourself and cried when it wouldn’t lay flat. Your friends were always shocked to see you bring collard greens and jambalaya to lunch so you stopped eating your favorite foods. They didn’t understand why you couldn’t just brush your hair, wash your hair everyday, why it suddenly grew or shrunk inches overnight. I’m certain you’ve heard from many of your friends how they just don’t see you as a black girl. They erase your black skin because it doesn’t fit the images of other black girls they see. You spend most of your time edging away from the loud black girls, the ghetto black girls who ate hot cheetos and drank kool aid and had corn rows and long braids and smelled like a mix of the jungle and your ancestors pain and you wished, maybe for a just a moment, but you did wish that you could be white. But honey, you can never wash off that melanin! It’s a permanent stain. Just because your friends can’t see the black on you, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t. 9 If you got mostly c’s...You’re a Hip Hop Ho! You sexual deviant you! Let me guess—big breasts, small waist, and wide hips? You’ve got that original Betty Boop to you, something in your eyes that say yes to a question no one bothers to ask. You’re the black girl that white guys use as a notch in their belt. You are the exotic sexual being that men love to hate and hate to love. You became a sexual thing at a young age, when your breasts came in at ten years old and became d-cups at fourteen. They started looking at you differently, didn’t they? Your eyes stopped existing. Your words didn’t matter. Your body became the tool used to diminish your worth. How often did you get yelled at in school to put on something less revealing than your shorts? Did you ever wonder why the skinny, flat-assed white girls were never told the same thing? Honey, your wide hips wrapped in chocolate skin were never yours. You will never be yours. 10 If you got mostly d’s...You’re a Ghetto Fabulous Black Girl! You make what little money you can working at Walmart or doing nails. You make people waiting at the bus stop with you uncomfortable with your loud laughter and yellow and pink braids and long, bedazzled nails. You toss your weave around, remove your earrings, and square up to anyone that says shit about you. When you’re out, you are often told to stop yelling, screaming, taking up space. You’ve got baby daddy problems and you’re only 18. You grew up playing double dutch in the middle of the street with old rope. You accept your black, your ghetto, your Ebonics. But you are not supposed to accept yourself, honey! Don’t you see the fashion police spreads in the magazines? You are on all the pages! Don’t show your hips. Put on a shirt that conceals your stomach. Put your breasts away. Don’t wear bright lipstick. Stop standing out, being different. Get smaller, quieter, lesser, as you are supposed to be. You love your black too loudly and it makes others uncomfortable. Your job is to make people comfortable so do your best to limit the loudness of your melanin. simul justus et peccator andy anderson 11 QUEER Eve Taft You think there isn’t a sign on my ribs that says “stonewall inn”? You think Matthew Shepard doesn’t tug at my hair and warn me as I walk the streets of my city? You think I don’t choke on the smoke from the hellfire you spit from your pulpits with sparks that sear and heat branding irons which scar your names on me to mark me as danger? You think my veins don’t shiver when they think of the devastation wracking the cities that some called deliverance while Reagan fiddled as we burned You think that the prisons pink triangles asylums bullets spitting into a nightclub don’t whisper in my head as I make my way through the world? 12 You think that I don’t notice— I kiss her and kiss her —the headline blowing by with a death toll and I kiss her the skyline splashing out behind us the lights on the Washington Avenue bridge flicker on and I kiss her Putin criminalizes us, across the world I kiss her Vigils held too late for young suicides Corrupting, perverted, disgusting, an affront to family values— I kiss her in the rain and the sleet of Minnesota I kiss her, our lips tasting of chants from the protest that shut down I-94 handed down from our grandmothers hearts beating, eyes sparkling, alive I kiss her You think I forget the lists and the candles and the deaths and the pain and all that roars in my ears is a chorus screaming over and over again you were not able to kill us I kiss her and all is still 13 JESUS IN A CRACKER A. Tetzlaff Eucharist I hugged my father’s black, pleated pants while we waited for mass to start. He was beaming proudly and chatting with the rest of our family. I wore the only dress I allowed to touch my body: by then it was a year old and from my uncle’s wedding when I walked down the aisle carrying a bouquet, looking like a blonde deer caught in front of a semi truck. It had a black velvet top connected to a white skirt. All the girls wore white. My parents cut their losses. All the boys, shirt and tie. Eight-year-olds taking their first communion despite the fact that most of us had no idea what was happening. Understanding the sacraments isn’t really necessary when you grow up in a Catholic family. By the time you are aware of your burden, it’s too late anyway. Religion lived at Nativity of Our Lord Parish, in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Between church and home, I lived in a realm of contradiction. I came to visit religion, but it never went home with me. On Sundays when the game was in town, God would not judge you for wearing your Packer jersey to church. Sinning was bad, but you could tailgate and drink and carouse to your heart’s content. We should have taken beer at 14 that first communion. We would have appreciated it more than the wine. We took our places in the ritual that had been performed again and again. The time-worn ritual begins anew as I walk to the altar with my hands folded in front of me. I must remember to raise my hands high enough so the rheumatic priest doesn’t have to bend down. Right hand over left. I’m a blonde deer again. “The body of Christ.” This is the part where I say, “Amen,” whether I mean it or not, then put the communion wafer in my mouth. I must cross myself (right hand touching head, then left shoulder, then right shoulder) as I walk back up the aisle and toward my family. They liked to sit in the middle section, never too close to the altar. They didn’t like making direct eye-contact with the priest during his homily. To this day I skip the wine for fear of communicable diseases. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, this first communion wafer. It was stale. There was no substance. Maybe the parched flour and water, mixed with the lingering incense is actually what Jesus tastes like. The absorbent clump lasted into the next hymn. Saliva rushed into my mouth and eventually the wafer, heavy with mois- ture, fell from the roof of my mouth. I swallowed without chewing. Just go with it, I told myself. All these people believe in this, so one day, you will too. But I wasn’t sure. I didn’t get it. The power that kept me from running back up the aisle wasn’t the love of God gently pushing me along, but the ritual itself, and the expectation of my parents and grandparents watching proud and probably dewy-eyed as I joined their ranks. Hugs and smiles and congratulations as my family comes out of the first communion Mass, but I wasn’t sure what was such cause for celebration; I hadn’t had a great epiphany about God, nor had I felt any change at all. It was just like every Sunday late in October. head and tell me I was forgiven. “Sometimes, I’m not very nice to my mom or my brother,” I told him. Navitity didn’t own a confessional booth like the ones in movies. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a confessional booth at any Catholic church outside the movies. We sat quietly in a tiny room. Being small for my age, I circled the air below me with my feet. I sat facing him directly. He crossed his legs under the cassock he wore, clearly annoyed. After a silence and a slow nod, the priest said, “Sometimes, we hurt the people we love the most.” It was the only part I heard or remember hearing; he started talking about God’s forgiveness, I assume. I didn’t pay attention, because I didn’t feel different after admitting such a pitiful sin. Marriage I had no ill-feeling toward the physical place of church. In fact, the ritual, the sounds, the smell of incense, and the light that filtered through the stained-glass windows from an Easterly rising sun became familiar and comforting over the years. The nave, filled with old pews, had witnessed my parents’ wedding and my grandparents’ weddings. The organ towered over the choir. The smell of old patrons and Sunday cologne too liberally applied became a sensory memory of that place. However, religion has never been an inward practice; the practice and the scene never joined together. Anointing of the Sick When times are bad, I’ve pulled the fragments of ritual from my memory and recite the “Our Father.” I did this in the winter of my eighteenth year in days following my grandfather’s funeral. He died of bladder cancer, worsened by a communicable bacterial infection called C.Difficile. I became familiar with the ritual of funeral; I’d been to three or four for close relatives. But this time, the ritual felt different. Before, I was sad. My grandfather’s funeral confirmed that the only sacred part of my world had been ripped mercilessly from my arms. Reconciliation “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”As the words come out of my mouth, they themselves felt sinful. I hadn’t sinned, I was eleven. I barely knew what sin was. I had to stop a moment to think of a sin I had committed, so the priest could nod his Baptism I sat in the shower until the water hitting my face was colder than I could stand, reciting the “Our Father” over and over, sobbing. Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. I hoped, over so many repetitions, that my view 15 of God and heaven would change. Yet, it confused me more. Religion stopped looking like the patron blind to reality and became a place where I didn’t belong. Like I was missing out because I didn’t get that epiphany, and didn’t have that same faith. Confirmation Religion was so stale, that when my Mother would occasionally talk about faith, or God, or divine love at the dinner table I would blush with pity and embarrassment. How can you believe this? I thought, how can you be so blind to the real world? Perhaps, I’m the blind one. I continue to live in an intermediate space between faith and atheism. I can’t commit to either. The fence between atheism and faith is fraught with angst. Most days, I try to laugh away my uncertainty. I tell jokes about my Catholic past, chuckle when I hear of “recovering Catholics,” and tell friends, “It smells like a Catholic church in here,” whenever they burn incense. Religion is still stale to me. Religion has no nutritional value. Stale religion has no holy orders. 16 grey cloud island david baboila 17 saint paul airport david baboila 18 white bear lake david baboila 19 zips coliseum david baboila 20 BRIDGE Jacob J. Miller This was not way back when, as my dad would have you believe. It was more recent than that. If he can’t flat out deny it, which he no longer can, he will at least try to convince you that it was so long ago as to suggest it might have been a different lifetime, and he a different person. He has been, after all, Born Again. Except he was not the only person involved, and to carry along as if he was is an exercise in what I’ve heard philosophers call solipsism. For him, his transgression was between himself and the Holy Ghost: accountable not to those he wronged, only to an invisible spirit. But he doesn’t have sole authority in determining the past’s relevance or irrelevance to our lives today. My mother too pretends the past is only what has happened at a particular point in time, and not a factor in what determines what has happened since then and what is happening now. The slate wiper theory of forgiveness is what allowed them to wear their veneer of innocence and believe in its authenticity, and for that reason I resent their new-leaf turnover. My love for them may not be emergent in my words, I know, but I do love them, regardless of the fucked up traits they passed on to their children, which will become evident as this story unfolds You might be wondering, if you care at all, what could be so terrible. Well, it’s not so terrible, and not even very uncommon, but it happened to me, and my brothers and my sisters, and there was never anything we could really do about it. We watched it unfold almost every night to reveal its rotted pit. What was scariest was not when a half-full beer bottle would be hurled in our direction for us being too noisy, and then being held responsible for wasting the beer, and getting punished even more for that. What was scariest was when they fought with each other, mom and dad, when they were both liquored up. All of us children would be sitting in the living room, on our knees, in a line, with our hands folded and tucked inside our clenched thighs, having hitherto been fulfilling our playful, childish duties who couldn’t expect things to go so suddenly and intensely wrong. They would fight about anything, or nothing, for all we knew or cared. They would yell, swear, slam their fists on various surfaces, throw things across the room at each other as if rehearsed. One time, I remember, and this is what I’m talking about when I talk about how scary things got, my 21 dad had my mom pinned up against the refrigerator—after she threw three or four plates at him, one that hit his arm, but would have hit his face if he hadn’t been blocking, and cut it deep. He had the sharp kitchen knife pressed firmly under her chin. If she gulped too hard in fear, or if dad in his stupor lost balance, she would have been bleeding all over the family pictures held by magnets to the fridge. As we grew older, my big brother and I began working under dad instead of merely living under him. Our prospects in life weren’t substantial at that point. Whatever potential we had, it had never been encouraged, so entering into the family business, if it can even be called that, was the only viable option. I woke dad up most mornings from his typical collapse into a face-down, fetal heap on the kitchen floor, sometimes still wet, sometimes already crusted over. I’d say, “it’s time for work, dad,” and he’d drive me to the site where (drinking coffee with whiskey in it on the way) heavy machinery was waiting to be operated—even though we used hammers and nails whenever we could. Stonehenge-sized slabs of cement, wooden pillars, cinder blocks, and iron rods littered the landscape. It was all so disorderly that if a nomad wandered upon the scene, the indication would be of destruction rather than pre-construction. There were no piles of allocated materials or inventoried supply lists. It could have all been salvaged from past demolitions or by thievery from other project sites. We seemed to accrue it all without any kind of exchange or standard of accountability for use. Everything seemed to just show up wherever and whenever we needed it. Who actually made all this stuff? How did we move it from place to place to use from job to job? Who permitted my sodden father to oversee such potentially hazardous 22 projects? He was a self-made man outside the advent of auditing. What did I care then? I was making my way, fashioning for myself a future out of will power, and holding my breath until I could extricate myself from this grim farce. First day on the job, my dad said to me, don’t fuck up, or he’d make me test the bridge before the support beams were all in place. I believed him. That particular bridge wasn’t connecting two sides over a raging river or anything; more of a convenient pathway over a stream, but it was still a threat coming from dad. Second day on the job, my brother James tore partway through his leg with a chainsaw. I heard him yell, but it sounded more out of frustration than terror and pain. He sat down, ripped his immediately blood-soaked pants from where the initial tear was, delicately unlaced and removed his boot so as not to cause more pain, grunting as if he had done nothing more than step in dog shit, and lifted the nearly severed part of his leg that dangled lifelessly like a tube sock on a clothesline, to close the wound, from which I saw steam rising sacrificially to the wintery heavens. He reached forward to grab the excess of sock which, although bunched up at his toes, had a long, tortuous journey before being completely removed. He screamed as he stretched forward, more circumstantially appropriate this time, and this is when I dropped my— whatever, the thing I was holding, I can’t remember what, but I didn’t hear it land because I couldn’t assimilate anything else that may have been transpiring around me. I almost seemed to float over to him, not even aware of my legs propelling me forward. I saw all the blood, but I wasn’t put off by it as much as I thought I probably should have been, and I thought that as I stared at it pooling out. I observed it dispassionately, coldly, but I may not have been breathing. At first sight, it was just an organic pipe that sprung a leak. I think I asked if he was all right but I meant it more like did he think he was going to die. He said to go get dad and that’s when I became afraid. I stood there for I don’t know how long, until he repeated himself more urgently: “Walt!” he said, “Go! Get! Dad!” I listened that time, but I was still very afraid. I was trembling and began feeling like I might faint, and I almost hoped I wouldn’t find dad, that he’d be off drinking somewhere, but he wasn’t. He was drinking right there, over a small mound of dirt, holding a big piece of wood sturdy for someone to do something with. I saw his breath bellow out into the cold with a cough and evaporate as he took a swig from a bottle before sliding it back into his coat pocket, without so much as a pretense of inconspicuousness.The bottle neck stuck straight out and brushed against his elbow, a cumbersome lump sinking down and throwing off his equilibrium further than the ethanol already had. I slowed my pace, tried to regain some composure, and still hoped he wouldn’t notice me. I could claim an attempt at getting his attention, but he just couldn’t be bothered with me. I tried, I’d tell James, but I’ll carry you. I was sure I could have done that. Part of me still wished I could have avoided involving my dad at all. It was selfish, but I thought I might get slapped with the blame. But I yelled, Dad! Come quick! Dad, I yelled again, skidding on the gravel as I spun around, intent on not letting my dad’s impatient glare lock on me, and from that momentum, nearly ascending at a perfectly horizontal angle in the air before I landed face first on those same tiny rocks, a perfect reenactment of self-humiliation on the school playground at recess. I felt all those multiple points of impact, but wasted no time in catapulting myself back up—no time for embarrassment just yet—clawed off the pebbles that clung gently to the tiny dents they bore into my face and palms, and sped back to my brother who, when I reached the dirt-mound summit again, I could see was lying flat, surrounded by the thick, still-steaming purplish puddle which had, since I left him, at least quadrupled in circumference. Not looking back at all during my return sprint to see how far behind me dad was, or even if he followed me at all, I turned from the sight of my brother completely to see him, Dad, shuffling over the mound, bogged down by beer bottles, which could be heard clanging together in his pockets. He was wheezing inhalations of frozen air. He saw James right away, I know it, but he didn’t say anything until he got right up close to him, planting one clumsy boot in the blood puddle with a squelchy, meager splat, like an old-fashioned letter-sealing stamp on melted wax. He leaned over with outward turned elbows and hands on hips, looked at James’ face. James’ eyes were closed. Dad then scanned down to the butchered leg, grimaced, scanned back up to James’ face. James’ eyes were now open again, frigid with shock, and dad said, “pull yourself together, son,” erupting hysterically at his own clever buffoonery. James turned out to live, no real thanks to our father. I ended up having to run to the nearest phone anyway and call an ambulance. He didn’t even lose his leg. He did require a blood transfusion because he lost gallons of it, or at least it seemed like it when I stood there staring at the mess, but his gristly cheeks had their color restored right in front of me, resupplying and, it almost seemed, re-inflat23 ing him to human shape at the coercion of some stranger’s bodily elixir. It worked like sorcery, but far more astonishing because it was methodologically reliable. The warm fluid surged through his veins, and he was ensconced for a moment in a prodigious glow of newfound vitality. Back then, my dad, laughing, called him a lucky son-of-a-bitch, whereas telling the story now, upon reflection and suspension of rational thought, my brother was “touched by an angel.” Now, whenever this celestial creature of mercy is mentioned, who conveniently remains anonymous for humility’s sake I suppose, instead of our dad drunkenly laughing and mocking the situation, James does. An example of an aforementioned fucked up trait passed on in the family. 24 50 FEET TALL Emilie Tomas I was in 5th grade When my class went To see ‘The Human Body’ and I watched In childhood Horror as A 50 foot grin Unfurled, loomed Large enough To pull me Into orbit Devoured First a sandwich And then my Faith in humanity With deafening Smacks Like thunder If thunder Was made Of jelly and Dismay and I Knew it was a Crime to allow a Person to become This Inflated, With every pore Its own path to Hell and I knew I couldn’t trust Anyone because In our heads We are all 50 feet tall. 25 meow you see ashley waalen 26 MOUSETRAP Halle Chambers Minnie “Mousy” O’Mally knew she was invisible up here on her fire escape. This was her safeplace. With the ladder pulled up as it was now, almost no one could reach her here. Plus, even if someone did make it up here, she could easily get away. If she crawled rough the window, she’d be securely locked in the apartment. There, it was warm and dry and at least sometimes safe when her daddy…no, excuse her, correction, “Father or Sir” wasn’t home. He hated when she called him Daddy. He wasn’t home now, out doing illegal God knows what in the “family business,” but he would be back soon. Hence why she was out here. So, no apartment, not right now. If she dropped the ladder, she could slide down to street level in seconds and be down the block in under a minute. She knew, because she’d practiced and had timed herself. The only way to avoid getting hit in the face was to be quick on your feet. That was the first rule of fighting that Jase, her older brother, had taught her. With the life they lived, it was also a rule of survival. And they didn’t call her “Mousy” for nothing: she was small and fast… very fast. Jase could make a distraction, and Minnie could run. But, Jase was working a job that “Father” had given him out of town till this weekend, and she’d surely get caught if she didn’t have her usual head-start. So,“down” wouldn’t work either. If she scaled up the ladder above her, she’d be on the roof, where their oldest brother, Cobie, had often taken her and Jase to stargaze. She hadn’t known till six years into her still short life that he’d done it to keep his precious baby brother and sister away from their father’s sight when the man would come home satellite high or plastered. She hadn’t known till twelve years in that he’d take their father’s hungover backhand on the mornings after, so she and Jase didn’t. All she’d known as he’d taught her each constellation was that Cobie was braver than Orion and that she and her brothers were more inseparable than the Gemini twins. But, her world went as topsy-turvy as Cassiopeia when her father had sent Cobie away, saying he would not have a queer as a son. When Jase and Minnie hugged him, Cobie swore he’d come back for them in a year or so. Jase had given up when he’d been two years gone. That was two years ago, and now even Minnie 27 was starting to doubt. No, she couldn’t go up to the roo, not alone. She shivered in the October chill as she reviewed her options: “in” would be facing her father’s wrath, “down” would be facing being caught by a cop or a stranger, and “up” would be facing a reminder of the happiness, now heartbreak, brought by a brother who was likely never coming home again. So, maybe she couldn’t escape easily…or at all. She shivered again, this time more in frantic panic than from the frigid, near winter city wind. For not the first time in her life, Mousy felt trapped. 28 faces connie kilppen 29 *I DON’T ALWAYS FEEL COLORED Diamonique Walker Sometimes I find comfort in places I somehow know I don’t belong Never a full day, but hours will pass and I won’t consider my brown skin or kinky hair I’ll let the imminent fear of my black body being made into an example fall back to the depths of my mind My daughter’s safety in mixed company won’t occur to me I won’t juxtapose my blackness with any other’s identity confidence As if one chooses randomly from a pile of stock black girl names when they look at me He asks me if my hair is real I tell him he can’t ask me that He says oh it’s okay, my girlfriend is black I’m a dirty smudge on freshly ironed white linens Trying to blend in, trying to live my life I breathe, momentarily Suddenly, I’ll feel breathless, choked Stabbed in the chest Stung by a white hot micro aggressive slap in the face An unsolicited violation of my personal space A pale hand gently pulls a lock of my hair in white amazement Or a thin pair of lips will say “what’s upppppp” to me and not anyone else I’ll get called a name like Jasmine with such utter 30 *Line borrowed from Claudia Rankine, Citizen WHERE I AM FROM Hannah Schmit I am from the forest. From ruddy Maple and heady Pine. I am from the sunlit dust that refracts the life of the breeze. The rough wood of the trees are my bones, roots firmly planted deep in the depths of the cool black soil. Generations have taught me to live in the sun, tan weathered hands, calloused and worn cover small, break earth and sow seeds. Exhaling with the unfurling of new leaves whose first stretch welcomed life, I learned the importance of patience and nurturing. I am from dirt beneath my nails and gritty sand in my teeth. Sap painted hands and hot tar feet, blackened from short dashes across burning pavement that rippled with summer heat. Sandboxes were my kingdom, the layers of silt and sand familiar to my prodding hands. I climbed turreted towers of twisted bark and branches to survey the world and breath in time with the breeze. Twigs and leaves were my crown and a rusty tractor my carriage. My people were the songbirds and insistent cicadas whose songs filtered lazily together through the woods. Sometimes I called back, matching note for note, melodies and harmonies creating a canopy of familiarity. I am from wildflowers who nodded their velvet, satin, and paintbrush heads as I passed by. From dried grasses whose sweet scent rose from rolling waves that undulated under horse-tail clouds above. The gold-fringed top of the corn is my hair as it turns to brown under the autumn sun. I am from the passing of seasons, each marking the time as brilliant red and orange gave way to pristine white and serene gray. Freckles and sunburn traded for pale skin cold kissed cheeks. My life can be counted in scraped knees and bruises, and band-aids and scars, each a story unique unto itself. I am from the water. Clear and silted, still and rushing it surrounds me. The river courses through my veins, its steady pulse my heartbeat. I am from the muted silence of holding my breath. From letting go in the soft pixelated light that swirls lazily in the haze of a murky river. From the dew that rests in early mists that lay as a blanket over a newly purified earth, protecting the last of the dawn. I am from music. Love-strung tunes of lullabies rock 31 my past to sleep and call forth dog-eared memories. Treasured memories that float fragmented in my mind, I was waltzing with my darling… Goodnight, Irene… Then sings my soul… Black Forest I have come to be in this place. Knit sweaters and hand me downs weave the fabric of my personality. The black ink of the notes is stained on my fingers, the lyrics printed out as a map on my mind. My body is movement, ‘full of grace’ as I danced through recitals and music competitions. My history is composed of the ivory keys of a piano board, the metallic strings of a guitar, and the soft wheeze of a musty accordion. I am from survivors. From broken families and lives I was given the opportunity to begin. Out of the ashes of war and blood, death and pain I was taught compassion. The scars remind me of my privilege. A handful of ink-smeared letters, a fading tattoo, and relentless nightmares that went unspoken. Touched by shadows of heartbreak and longing I have learned the fears of disease and pain, the cruelty of man and the destruction of illness. I am from a legacy. Footsteps preceded my very first and taught me how to stand tall—to walk courageously. When I was tired of walking and needed to fly, strong hands lay behind me as I learned to test my own strength. I am from fading memories. From sweat and ploughs, rough tools and run down sheds. My past is a copper foundation of saved pennies stretched with love and trust. The polished wood of a hunter’s gun and tug of a taut fishing line tie me to the land of a generation gone by. I am from the creaking wood of a ship that ferried dreams. From the fjords and 32 I am from strength. From weary hands that sought to move forward. From songs crooned in different tongues, prayers tucked away from missed lives. I am from the sweet smell of tobacco. From a worn brown pipe laid in the top overall pocket. From tales of Shirley Temple and shiny black shoes. From the canoe as it passes over reeds and the click of a cane keeping time with shuffling shoes. From sterilized rooms and flowers with similarly fated owners. I am from loss and tears. I am from the Mississippi and the Great Lakes, from steam and coal. From concrete jungles and log cabins. I am a piece of the past, I am… The rooms of my mind are wallpapered with snapshots of a younger me. Sayings and phrases are the soundtrack of my life. I carry them with me. Tucked in locked and forgotten rooms they wait patiently, longingly for me to recall. future. I seek not where I am going only exist here, as I am. I am from the past. Shaped by the present I live for the future. I am from wanderlust. An incorrigible desire to explore that cannot be quelled with the stillness between heartbeats. I am from the excitement that teeters on the brink of the inevitable. I am pulled at by the gentle whisper of religions. Called to the beauty of holiness in the world, I am grounded in the church yet growing in the temple and the mosque. I am gentle hands that have learned to be useful—to give back. Well-used fingers taught to survive and protect. I am a collection of places and people that I have encountered. In love with humanity, I exchange comfort for experience. I am at home in the concrete jungles constructed from heat-cracked pavement and in the mudpatched hut of the desert. The mountains and caves call to me like the trees and fields of my youth. I am at home in the grand expanse of a world that knows no limits, understands no boundaries. A world that exists, simply to exist. My feet itch to travel down forgotten paths where the dust of ages can billow out from under me and cloud the clarity of the 33 who am i? ashley waalen 34 2 GRATITUDE: A POEM IN FOUR PARTS D.E. Green 1. Le Chaim 2. In Praise of Delusion Each day, my own sunrise, my own morning star: your red head radiates strange aerial spikes. When he walks down the sloping skyway from Memorial to the Music building on his way to a long evening class, he sees his reflection in the large classroom window at the base of the slope. He loves that mirror. In it, he is about a foot taller than his five-fiveand-a-half and twenty pounds lighter. He is younger than his sixty years. The silver hair is less telling. As he approaches, the Other ways slightly, moves with the elegant gait of an athlete or dancer. This, he imagines, is my Norwegian double—tall and slender and (at least from this distance) good-looking. Of course as man and image converge, his Other shrinks into an eastern-European, Semitic, rather compact, little old man. Perhaps (he wonders) I have seen the inner image of myself. Perhaps (he smiles) I am happy just to have illusions. Our son’s beard and long Hasidic locks on a head never bowed in prayer hover over his guitar and, till he gets it just so, a heavy-metal riff. The picture of Ollie, our old pup,— his face speaks love, love, love. Like the holiday meal you’ll pretend to let me cook. Or when your hand gently strokes my heaving shoulder: I am sobbing silently because the movie has ended well—a good death, timely reconciliation, vows revived, a renewed breath. 36 3. Thanksgiving 4: To My Son This morning, as I drive from Northfield to Hampton past field after barren field, three wild turkeys foraging and gobbling at the edge of the road— their white-splashed wings, black-feathered trunks, It’s Friday, Z—, and (as always) time to say how much I love you (and your mom too, since I don’t say it often enough though I feel it every minute) and how much I miss you and hope you can spend a few hours with us and Grandma the first weekend in November. We worry about you every day, ‘cuz that’s our job, but we also have an abiding sense of how strong you are: How much you have been through, how far you’ve come, and how you face each day with grit—and, I hope, love. The latter is so hard to do: Over breakfast your mom and I sometimes sit around and whine about our work, about grading student papers. But a little later I’ll be walking across campus and the light will be just right and I’ll see a familiar face amid a group of young people and—I don’t know why—I feel love. I think that’s the word. And I felt it last time we picked you up downtown and you were talking to some scruffy stranger on the street. And the fact that you can still be open to such encounters—isn’t that love too?— filled me with wonder. It’s funny: Old people, among whom I am about to number, have proverbially been beyond wonder, such a romantic and old-fashioned word. But I swear that I still feel it—and that you are among the wonders of my world. red combs poking and pecking the gravel and weeds—surprise me. I flinch. The car swerves. I breathe. They range unruffled. 37 work in progress gabriel bergstrom 38 THE FIRE Elisabeth Beam I stood with my back to the crowd watching the house go up in flames. It happened faster than I had expected. It had taken less than a minute for the fire to spread from the kitchen to the living room and even less time for it to make its way upstairs and into the bedrooms where Grandma and the twins had been peacefully sleeping. Joel stood beside me; his face was dark with ash, his mouth tilted upwards in a sickeningly gleeful smile. Momma had never liked Joel. She said he was a troublemaker and I should do my best to stay away from him. Joel hadn’t always been mean. When I first met him he would bring me friends and make me laugh. He gave me my grey tabby cat, Walter, and my small white bunny, Snowy. We used to all run around the garden and play and laugh. I didn’t like it when Walter and Snowy played. Walter always hurt Snowy. Joel loved it. Snowy’s pain filled shrieks always brought a smile to his face. Joel would play tricks on Momma. He’d move the chair she was about to sit in and she’d tumble to the floor with a crash and a scream. He would put dead things in the twins’ crib for Momma to find. Once he brought a live snake into the house and slipped it into the shower when Momma was in it. She screamed something awful and had locked me in my room for a week. I always got blamed for Joel’s wicked tricks. Momma brought a lot of new friends to the house after that. She brought in men wearing long white coats who talked with me and asked questions about Joel and Walter and Snowy. Joel would stand behind them as they questioned me and make faces. I didn’t understand why they didn’t just talk to Joel and grew frustrated with their questions. Once Momma brought home a man in a black suit. He walked around the house mumbling in a strange language, throwing water on the walls and waving his cross around like a baton. I thought he was crazy. I told Momma and she told me to hush and sit down. The man stood in front of me yelling in his strange way and holding his cross on my forehead. It was cold and made me uncomfortable. Joel got upset. He didn’t like the man and the way he was 39 shouting. The next thing I knew the man was on the floor bleeding from a gash in his head and Joel was laughing loudly in my ear. A bunch of police officers showed up and Joel told me not to tell anyone what he’d done. He said I should blame it on Momma and she’d go away for a long time and stop bothering us. Momma shouted and cried and struggled as the police dragged her away to the sound of Joel’s gleeful laughter and the twins’ high pitched screams. Grandma came after Momma. She was mean. She locked me in my room and told me to stay there until I learned my lesson. I watched him stalk around the room at night mumbling darkly to himself. Grandma made me to go church with her every Sunday, she said I had to pray for my soul for what I’d done to that man and to Momma. I didn’t understand why everyone blamed me for Joel’s tricks and was tired of being punished for all the naughty things that he did. One night at supper, Joel made scary faces at the twins who started wailing. Grandma stood up and yelled at me as she tried desperately to calm the twins. She told me to go to my room. I said no. I pointed at Joel and yelled at him with all my might. This was all his fault. Grandma sent me to bed. Joel told me they were going to send me away. They would separate us and I would never be able to see him again. I told him I was fine with that because he was being horrible. That upset him. He got Walter and Snowy and made me watch as Walter ate Snowy. I cried. He laughed. Joel woke me up at midnight. He told me we could stay together. Me, him, and Walter, but we had to do 40 something first. He smelt like gasoline. He led me to the kitchen and pointed to the stove which was covered with a sticky, sweet smelling liquid. He told me to open my hands. I did. He handed me a lighter. I didn’t want to do it but Joel got angry when I tried to say no. He yelled and told me to do it for all the times Momma blamed me for something he did. That if I did this everyone would finally realize it was him doing all the bad things and not me. My hands were shaking so bad it took me five tries to get the lighter to ignite. When it did I froze and stared at the small flame in my hands. It flickered with every shuttering breath that came out of my mouth. Joel grew impatient and slapped the lighter out of my hand and onto the stove. There was a large whooshing noise and a blast of orange light. My arm hair stood on end and sweat trickled down my face. I backed away. Joel stood in front of the fire and laughed. He threw his arms out wide and danced in tune with the flames. He was crazy but his movements were so beautiful and fluid. It was frightening. The fire advanced toward me. I didn’t want to move. I wanted the fire to eat me like it was going to eat Grandma and the twins. Joel grabbed my hand and led me outside. We stood to the side and watched as the fire slowly ate up the house I had grown up in. The house that the priest, the twins, and Grandma had all died in. Sirens and smoke filled the night air. I looked to my side for Joel, but he had disappeared. DESERT DRUMS Abigail Carpenter When my London flatmate, Raoni, suggested we travel to Northern Africa because he was missing the heat of Brazil, we had no intention of visiting the Sahara Desert and the Atlas Mountains. But we quickly made friends with a generous and hospitable Moroccan man, Raxido, who invited us to a local drum circle at the edge of the Sahara Desert. After traveling on camelback against an orange-rayed sunset, we found ourselves among the sand dunes. We parked our camels single file near our camp, and I realized a place that once only existed in my dreams was now before me. I had to close my eyes for a long while. I opened them over and over again until I was sure of it. I had to reach down and let the sand fall between my fingers slowly. I had to breathe in the crisp, evening air. And when I looked up, the stars speckled in the sky like the summer freckles on my face, thousands and thousands of them. When the drum circle began, I let its music fill me up. It started in my toes and moved higher, tickled my fingers and sent goosebumps up my arms and back. The drums vibrated within my chest and when it reached my mouth, I screamed in laughter. My laugh echoed farther and farther across the desert, not meeting any person or town or house until it was miles and miles away. I wrapped my blanket a little tighter and watched my friends dance around the fire to the beat of the drums. Their legs moved up and down as their hands joined the ashes flying through the night air. For many hours, we sat around the fire, told our stories and spoke aloud our dreams. We danced and sang and took turns pounding the drums. We slept under the stars among the silence of the desert for only a few hours until the sun awoke us on the horizon. And moving through the deep sand, the sunrise at our backs, we rode our camels to the bus to escape the desert heat before it swallowed us up whole. 41 COLORS Hannah Schmit If I am a color call me red The color of passion and love Humanity worn on my sleeve The color of my blood, beating heart. Call me red. If I am a season call me fall With baited chilled breath I speak My words on whirlwind breezes fall An omen of changes to come Call me fall. If I am a sound call me silence. The chaos and stillness of calm My words lost yet encompassing In anticipation of something Call me silence If I am a thought call me hope The desire for something more A yearning call deep within me The need to breathe Call me hope. 42 urban delight jazmin crittenden 43 WHEN DAD WORE COLOGNE A. Tetzlaff “Did Grandpa Mike die?” My small voice broke a quiet that Dad and I carry easily between us. A radio frequency connecting our minds that communicates silently, so we don’t have to. Even at the age of three, I knew our sacred, noiseless space well. Dad took me to a park one day, nearby my childhood home. We rarely visited this park unless we intended to use its snowy slope for adrenaline rushes in our bright plastic sleds in the winter time. But it wasn’t wintertime now. My dad wore a blue t-shirt he’d owned since high school. Summer or spring, the season isn’t particularly distinct. The hills rose nakedly as we quietly approached. I’ve come back to the memory time and again; the images are blurred, like a positive photograph that didn’t come out of the darkroom correctly. I can’t recall how my father responded to my question, though I’m sure he patiently and painfully affirmed my query. In that moment I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t sad. Presently, I regret that I can’t remember a man who loved me and was so dearly loved by others. I don’t know how he looked aside from the pictures I know. How he talked, laughed, 44 yelled, walked, I don’t recall. Did he wear cologne to work like Dad? When I was young, Dad wore cologne to work. He woke up around five in the morning in order to be at work five-thirty, and he still does, despite the fact that no one expects him in the office till eight. I’d hear his alarm from my bed and wait to smell the mix of dewy summer grass and the spicy knives of cologne in my nostrils. The smell lingered and pulled me back to sleep as Dad left the house. On the day at the park, Dad wasn’t wearing cologne. Dad didn’t wear cologne that day because it was either a weekend or he had the day off or had taken time away to grieve. I don’t remember the call to our corded telephone late one night. It was the hospital telling Mom and Dad that my grandfather died of a heart attack while showering. I don’t know if he died immediately or if the attack was slow, painful, cold, and wet. I will never ask. The thought of breaking the stitches grief so tenuously sewed incites trepidation. Was my young face one of his last images? I’m vain enough to assume so––grandparents always think of the grandbabies first. Was it a comfort? I can only hope. At my Grandfather’s funeral, I can’t remember Mom’s grief. I can’t remember the funeral either.She keeps the remnants of her love tended like a flower garden and tells me of her father often. I have nothing but the cemented walkway leading to the park that summer day deep in my mind. Mom tells me that my grandfather lived as long as he did because he was waiting for me. It was a miracle I was even born, but that’s not my story to tell. She calls me “the sparkle in his eye.” Christopher, my younger and only brother, inherited my grandfather’s bright, Anglo-blue irises. He was born the year after my grandfather died. Christopher joined the Army a few weeks ago; my grandfather was a Marine in the 60s. During his service in Asia, my grandfather collected each country’s currency. Grandma keeps the collection in a red leather box in her bedroom closet. I used to step onto a chair and carefully extract the artifact from the top shelf and touch each coin and each bill. Some of those tenders are much extinct now. The souvenirs of my grandfather’s life are far less valuable to me than those of my travels––those, at least, the mugs and the key chains, those have memories attached of the real thing. I’ve spent most of my life scouring photos and objects, trying to resurrect an authentic memory of my grandfather. Trying to find a sensation that brings him back to me like the early morning scent of Dad’s cologne because I only remember the hills and my words and Dad. The solvents of time washed away my grandfather. 45 SHITTY CHRISTMAS TREES AND SECONDHAND DOLLS Elisabeth Beam When I was a kid we didn’t have a lot of money. But we managed to survive. Mom worked a lot at the dingy looking Super 8 Motel just down the street from the elementary school. You know, the kind of motel that charges by the hour instead of night. She hated it but it was close to school and paid just enough. Around November she would start picking up shifts at other hotels in town to save up more money for Christmas. It was hard. The heat bill always went up mid-October when the chill started to set in and the snow began to fall. Presents were always an issue. Getting stuff for just me and Sarah was usually alright, but Mom came from a big family. Six brothers and sisters all of whom had kids. All of whom would be needing presents. That’s a lot of money. Money we just didn’t have. One year there was a huge blizzard and they canceled school for a week. Sarah was only six at the time and she couldn’t be left alone to take care of herself much less a five-year-old as well. So mom had to stay home from work and look after us. She tried to make it seem like she wasn’t stressed out about the money, but I knew she was. She would pace around the kitchen at night and mumble to 46 herself. She’d crouch over her checkbook and shake her head. She tried to hide it from us, but I noticed. I always noticed when she got like that. A week of work missed meant we wouldn’t be able to afford the gas to get to grandma’s house for Christmas. And a week with everyone at home meant that the heat bill was going to be rough. She was too proud to try and get food stamps. So money that would normally go towards presents went to buying our Christmas feast. We didn’t go to my grandma’s house that Christmas but it was probably the best Christmas of my life. The day before school let out our landlord took out all the carpet in the living room. He said it was due to be replaced and that someone would be over before the holiday to put down some new carpet. “Your feet will be so happy and thankful! That’s the best Christmas present you could ask for!” he had happily told us. No one came. The floor was cold and there were nails and sharp staples sticking up at weird angles. It hurt to step on them and small red dots appeared throughout the house as we all made the mistake of stepping in the living room without socks. Mom put down an old ratty green rug, one that our cats liked to pee on. She bought a small fake green tree from the thrift shop downtown. It was the saddest looking tree. Most of the branches were missing so it had random bald spots sporadically around its leaning trunk. A good number of the ornaments that we put on it fell off because it couldn’t support their weight. We made new ones out of paper and glitter. Mom wrapped tinsel she’d taken from work around it and Sarah and I sloppily placed string lights. We put an old family picture at the top of the tree because we were too scared that our expensive Christmas angel would fall and break if we tried to stick her up there. Thinking back on it now it was a pretty shitty looking tree, but back then I thought it was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life. I remember sitting on the floor amongst the nails and staples and looking at it glittering and glistening and thinking that it was a far better tree than anyone else could ever have. I thought that even if we’d spend a million dollars on a tree and all its dressings that it wouldn’t even be able to come close to this masterpiece sitting before me. For Christmas Eve we blasted holiday music and ran around the living room twirling and waving our arms above our heads. Mom had somehow found time to make new flannel pajamas for both me and Sarah and we had immediately put them on. She had also given us each a doll that she’d found at a thrift store. They looked ratty and dirty but I loved them both. Every bit of dust and matted patch of hair was a story waiting to be told. The dolls had character and I loved it.That shitty tree and our thrift store dolls were great but they weren’t what made that night so special. It was that we were all together, making the most out of what we had and not lamenting what we were missing. I think as we grow up we lose the magic in secondhand dolls and shitty Christmas trees. 47 summer nights adam ruff 48 the people united adam ruff 49 after the hike adam ruff 50 CRUMBS Malena Larsen He’s looking for love In the crevices of his couch Like loose change. I saw him lift up the cushions And pull out crumbs His mother’s earring A quarter The spoon he dropped last week After eating ice cream out of the container. It was chocolate cookie dough and he ate the whole thing. I watched him put the quarter in his back pocket and the spoon back in the cushions. I told him I had been in love once And he said I like it when girls call me daddy. I had a dream that night that he was dating somebody and my stomach hurt when I woke up. I became a spoon in the couch cushion Who said words like Daddy And Fuck me And Hard. At the end of every night I was put back with the crumbs, and each day that he came to get me there was more cat hair or lint stuck to me I waited patiently Dirty For him to pick me up. It was 77 degrees the late summer night he stopped getting me from the cushions. He told me that he found somebody to love and we can’t be friends, because if I see you I’ll fuck you. I asked him why he couldn’t control himself if he was in love with somebody. The inside of my ribcage Was being scraped empty 51 Like the chocolate cookie dough ice cream container And my stomach hurt Like it did after the dream Where he wasn’t mine I can’t help it. He told me. I like it when girls call me daddy. When we met he was wearing a suit and it looked like he had spent a lot of time on his hair but I didn’t think he was attractive until the weekend when I was drunk. Across the table On the other side of red cups And puddles of water He stared at me In a grey tank top. His eyes And arms Were strong 52 And dark. Making eye contact felt like sex And he smelled like Fireball And somebody I shouldn’t be alone with And too much cologne. We went swimming at 6 am at the neighbor’s lakefront when everyone else fell asleep. He took off his shirt I kept mine on. The water fell off of him like it didn’t want to keep his body covered for too long. He picked me up and folded me over his right shoulder and threw me into the 6 am summer sweet lake water. He drove me home At 7 am Still drunk and Smitten. It was 88 degrees and my birthday the night I let him kiss me in the back hallway of our friend’s frat. I couldn’t wait anymore He told me In the house that smelled like Liquor and dust And damp wood. The first time we Fucked Was in the front seat of his White Pontiac Grand prix At 11 pm on a Tuesday. I saw him almost As an animal. His fists Were clenched And his eyebrows Like shelves Over his beetle eyes. Do you like fucking daddy? After that night I had to sneak him into my bedroom because he couldn’t do all of the positions he wanted to in his car. He needed to prove to me that he was the best fuck and that he could make me cum and that I should call him Daddy. I had never called fucking, fucking before. Before I was a dirty spoon it had only been called love. His eyes started to remind me Of Tiny Round Black beetles. There’s nobody else anymore We should just keep fucking. And when we fucked It was 66 degrees and almost fall when he came to my house in his white Pontiac Grand Prix and told me I remembered then, the quarter he put in his pants and how he used me to eat his ice cream and then put me back with all the crumbs in the cushions of 53 his couch Where he keeps looking for love Like it’s the loose change In his back pocket. 54 bloomed audrey campbell 55 pruned audrey campbell 56 HERMAN Danny Polaschek Grape juice dribbled down Herman’s chin and landed in scattered droplets down the front of his white T-shirt. He didn’t notice and, after setting down his half-emptied glass, picked up his spoon and started on his bowl of bran flakes. Sitting at the kitchen table, there was nothing in front of Herman —but a bare white wall. It seemed, however, that he wasn’t looking at it, but rather through it like a child looks through a window and, seeing nothing but gray skies and rain, is overwhelmed by disappointment because they will not be outdoors playing that day. As Herman sat there facing the white wall and chomping his cereal, his son entered the kitchen and began his morning ritual. Herman heard the coffee-maker start bubbling from somewhere behind him in the kitchen along with the quick and efficient pitter-pattering of his son’s feet, who Herman assumed had to be walking laps around the center island as some sort of new, trendy morning workout. Once the coffee maker’s burbling came to an end the footsteps stopped as well. Herman focused on the sound of the coffee being poured, the soft sound of liquid filling a ceramic mug. The sound stopped as quickly as it had started and Herman was further drawn from his relaxed, monotonous state by the sound of his son’s voice. “How are the flakes this morning, Dad?” Herman didn’t turn around to face his son, but continued with what he was doing, looking like a cow chewing cud. “Five star quality,” he replied in between spoonfuls. “Flaky as ever.” Herman’s son chuckled a bit and looked up from his fresh cup of coffee but the laugh died away when he noticed that his father was still turned away from him, eyes glued straight ahead. Taking another sip, Herman’s son pondered whether he would keep pursuing his father in conversation or not. He ultimately decided against it and left the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. A sigh escaped Herman’s throat as he set down his spoon, finished with his mushed and soggy cereal. Ain’t this the life, he thought to himself sarcastically. Finally turning away from the wall, Herman scooted himself back from the kitchen table and slowly stood up. He gripped the side of the table for balance and took a few deep breaths in an effort to steady himself. Just a few weeks before, Herman had 57 missed a stair descending to the basement and found himself tumbling clumsily down the rest of the way until crashing to a stop on the last few steps. Herman’s head still felt a bit shaky from time to time, which caused a bit of a tremble in his legs. Instead of walking from place to place, he grew accustomed to maneuvering his way to each destination by leaning on and grabbing anything he could for support and then flinging himself to another sturdy checkpoint, and so on and so forth until he reached his goal. It was much like a monkey swinging from vine to vine, but less precise and much less graceful. With his feet finally under him, legs steady, Herman pushed away from the kitchen table and launched himself to the kitchen counter, which caught him with cold indifference. Hunched over, Herman caught his breath for a few seconds before beginning to shuffle down the length of the marble counter towards the coffeemaker at the other end. “This better be a damn good cup of Joe,” he mumbled to himself, clearly exhausted. Halfway down the counter, Herman stopped. With a steady grip on the counter he reached up to the cupboard above his head and swung it open. He couldn’t see inside but he knew that what he was looking for was in there: his old blue coffee mug— one of the only things worth bringing with when he moved into his son’s house the year before. Feeling around the smooth, wooden interior, Herman eventually got a hold of his mug which distinguished itself by having only half of a handle still attached. With the partial handle hooked onto his ring and middle fingers, Herman pulled out his mug and brought it shakily down over his head, setting it on the counter with a soft “clink.” Herman was beginning to feel dizzy at this 58 point, and wished for a moment that he had listened to the doctor about getting a walker. “Mr. Huckley,” the doctor said, “even if you don’t think you’ll use it, take it anyways. Just in case.” Herman didn’t take the walker, and wouldn’t even let anyone help to walk him out of the hospital, not even his son. “I don’t need your damn help,” he snorted each time someone tried to take his arm to steady him. He was always a stubborn man and old age wasn’t going to change that. Continuing down the counter, Herman felt this same stubborn anger boiling in him. He was almost seventy years old and yet he felt like a child who was just learning to walk. He’d built his own home, and a garage to go with it, and now he could hardly make it to the opposite end of the room without feeling fatigued. Sweat was running hot from Herman’s forehead. He wiped it with a shaky hand and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. He only had five or so more steps to go and he braced himself for the final stretch, determined to get there even if it killed him. With a focused balance and patient, shuffling steps Herman managed to get to the end of the counter and the coffee pot. He exhaled in relief, and a satisfied smile tugged the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly. With his blue mug in one hand, Herman picked up the coffeepot in the other, intent on pouring himself a well-deserved cup of coffee after his tiresome journey. His satisfaction was immediately replaced with bitterness as he lifted the pot and felt that it was nearly empty, only a few drops remained rolling around in the bottom. Herman’s minute smile had vanished and his brow hardened, scrunching up his forehead in small, tense knots. Setting the pot back on the counter, Herman hissed repeatedly under his breath, cursing his son for not leaving him any coffee. Herman’s hands were visibly trembling and he was having a difficult time keeping a grip on the edge of the counter. He contemplated making more coffee but dismissed the idea immediately, knowing that he could not remain standing and moving around the kitchen much longer. Herman felt a hot flush come over his face and could feel beads of sweat rolling down his temples and his cheeks. In one swift motion he wound up and threw his coffee mug across the room, where it shattered against the windowless, white wall. Slivers and shards of ceramic bounced all over the kitchen, the blue pieces scattered like shattered glass. Herman heard footsteps drumming down the staircase before his son entered the room,stopping in the doorway to avoid stepping on any of the pieces of blue ceramic. “Dad!” he exclaimed, “What happened? Herman was bent over, hunched with his hands on his knees. He was struggling for breath now, and sweat soaked through his shirt on his back. In between wheezes, Herman said exasperated, “You didn’t leave me any damn coffee, you son of a bitch.” His son stood there eyeing first his father and then the indent in the wall where the mug had hit. He shook his head in disbelief, which quickly turned to anger. With a clenched jaw, he left the room and returned a minute later with broom in hand. He began quietly sweeping the blue bits of coffee mug into a dustpan. After Herman had caught his breath and recomposed himself, he pulled his body back into a standing position, leaning against the counter. He glanced to his son, bent over and sweeping under the kitchen table. “I heard you on the phone last night,” he said. Herman kept his eyes on his son as he stood and turned to face him. His son raised an eyebrow at him but gave no verbal reply. “I heard you,” Herman repeated. His son bit his lip and continued sweeping, eyes trained on the floor. “It’s just not working, dad.” 59 EL BARRIO SUYO Chad Berryman El viento le envolvió al hombre como una manta de hielo. Él andaba por el barrio suyo pero los vecinos no lo saludaron. Caminaba delante de una casa grande con flores y grandes ventanas, y por esas ventanas podía oír una pelea entre dos padres y los lamentos penosos de sus hijos. Él seguía la acera que serpenteaba por un parque lindo donde había un banco solitario. Él Lo saludó con la cabeza. Recordaba unas noches del verano cuando este banco no había ofrecido insultos ni acusaciones, sino un lugar simpático para descansar mientras él le regalaba un uso admirable. Pero en el invierno el banco se congelaba como él, y ambos eran incapaces de ayudarse el uno al otro. Paseaba delante de una casa blanca de arquitectura maravillosa. Un coche altanero llegara la entrada. Un padre sincero apareció mientras acababa de contar los acontecimientos de su día. Su hija miraba su celular, y el silencio suspiró por la expresión herida de la cara del padre. Ellos entraron a la casa sin otra palabra. El hombre nómada seguía caminando, y pronto la nieve dentro de sus venas se derretía por una balada antigua que se tarareaba al ritmo de sus pasos. 60 No pido mucho, no vivo de prisa canto los himnos con risa bendita no tengo nada salvo alma amada y sin despedida no hay la llegada THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD Chad Berryman The frigid air wrapped around the man like a blanket of ice. He was travelling through his own neighborhood, but no neighbors acknowledged him. As he walked in front of a large, picturesque house, complete with flowers and giant windows, he could make out the sound of two parents fighting accompanied by the upsetting cries of their children. The sidewalk snaked its way through a park in which there stood one solitary bench. With a nod of his head, the man greeted it. Nights of summers past filled his mind, nights in which the bench had not offered insults or accusations but rather a consoling place of rest while he presented it with the gift of an honorable purpose. However, the bench froze and shivered in the winter the same as he, and neither could provide the other with any relief. He passed by a white house of grand construction. There, a flashy car had just pulled into the driveway. From it emerged an earnest father finishing the recounting of his day. His daughter, however, simply stared at her phone, and the wounded expression on her father’s face betrayed an unsung sigh. The two entered the house without another word. As the wandering man continued walking, the snow in his veins began to melt due to an old tune he commenced to hum in time with his steps. I don’t ask for much, or live in a rush in my blessed laughter the hymns come alive there’s nothing I own save a soul that is loved for without a farewell one could never arrive 61 ODYSSEY Eve Taft Thank you for the twisted pathways of your mind Which led to the streets and alleyways of Dublin James Joyce, do you understand that you opened floodgates? Your avalanche of babbling sentences, sans punctuation Buck Mulligan tossing form and style into the wind Your catechism, you, Daedalus, gave us sacrament Blood flow to wake up the numb limbs of literature You spoke with your soul to our souls Fearing not the noise in your skull but flinging it down in ink I understand you, “life is many days” I understand you, “god is a shout in the street” I understand you, “I am another now and yet the same” You understand me “everything speaks in its own way” Soon I’ll visit your beloved homeland Walking the streets of Dublin, writing and giving thanks to modernism Now as free of rigid form As Ireland of England 62 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 63 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 64 COUNTING SHEEP Danny Polaschek What can you do when the world is asleep? Go to sleep too? I’ve counted all my sheep. They jumped through the air gliding for 5 or 6 feet cleared the fence and then flew with not even a bleat. I didn’t focus however on these aerial sheep antics because far away in the distance was a sight oh so fantastic. A blue house, with a single light on in the window sat a girl a beauty no pencil could ever have drawn. I looked up at her and she down at me addicted to the eyesight too distracted to count sheep. 65 3 sky nights keeyonna fox 67 inner self keeyonna fox 68 VICTORY OF THE PEOPLE Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk Your worship was my refuge, your clay heart my focal point, your chelsea smile the apple of my eye. We were sick. We poisoned ourselves with amphetamines and pills until we didn’t recognize ourselves in the mirror. We walked miles just to feel accomplished in our space, we turned the cigarettes we shared into sentiments we thought we shared. I must possess the wrong innocence. Souls are fickle things that change when left to die in the cold. ~ He was outrageously tall. He towered over me like the Statue of Liberty and he talked to me as though I was a boat in the harbor. Standing five inches taller than six feet, he was an image of Ukrainian beauty. He stood like someone who knew things you didn’t know and this fascinated me. I was so naive, so optimistic. I saw the lust and want in his eyes and I mistook it for passion.The curve of his jaw and his long eyelashes crept into the screens behind my eyelids and ignited a fire in me that I didn’t know how to put out. I was the new girl in town struggling to keep my loneliness at bay. He was a gleaming light in that summer of darkness. I had just moved to Minnesota months before. After discovering drugs and promiscuous sex I became nothing short of a hurricane. Amphetamines kept me awake, cigarettes kept me skinny, and weed kept me sane. My GPA reflected exactly what they don’t tell you about functional depression: you can feel like a blank page, but as long as you fill it with words people will stop asking questions. He was selling me drugs. He offered me a good price. I had never met him but I figured what the hell, I could stand to meet new people. It was dark, long past sundown. We were meeting in a parking lot by a lake a few blocks away from my house. I was in my mom’s car. I waited and listened to Amy Winehouse until I saw an orange car pull into a parking spot a few yards away from me. The man driving fit the picture I had seen of him before. We 69 made eye contact and he ushered me over to his car. I took a deep breath, grabbed my sweater, and got my money ready. He rolled down the passenger side window. “You Nikita?” I said. He smiled at me. A smile that I would come to know. “You can call me Kita.” ~ He had really good drugs. I’m not sure that they were pure, but at the time I didn’t care. Neither did he. We just wanted to get high. We did his drugs together, sitting in a playground by the lake, talking about life and what we crave. He told me that he was applying to a college in London. I didn’t think anything of it. Before long we saw each other every day. He was a lifeguard who had to be on duty early in the morning, so he would take me out for coffee at eight in the morning. No makeup, sweatpants, my hair in a messy bun. He didn’t care. We would talk about things that we hadn’t shared with anyone else. He told me he struggled with his relationship with his father in Ukraine. I told him that I had struggled with eating disorders since I was thirteen. We would sneak out onto his back porch to smoke cigarettes late at night. His mother hated that we smoked. 70 “You need to quit smoking, love,” she’d tell me. “I smoked for twenty-five years and it took two pregnancies to get me to stop.” His mother loved me. She thought that I was spunky, independent, had a mind of my own. She did not like his last girlfriend. She made that very clear. She, like Nikita, was very tall. She had long curly black hair and eyes so intense that you would lose your appetite. Her Russian accent was thick and powerful. She had run away to the United States when she was twenty-one and seven months pregnant with her first son. Nikita. “Does it mean anything?” I asked him. “Your name.” He smiled when he answered. “My mom told me it means ‘victory of the people,’” he said. Oh Kita, you have no victory. You are the secret I keep from my mother the hidden disease that projectile vomits and digs with fingernails sharpened by teeth. Your fields of sunflowers told me a secret, your secrets so dark and beautiful and I killed myself with your gargantuan sunflowers. His mother was beautiful. She had been a professional figure skater that traveled the world, meeting people as she went. She met Kita’s father in her home country of Ukraine and according to the story, he was immediately drawn to her exuberant personality and her long legs. At twenty-one she was well on her way to continue pursuing a successful skating career until she got pregnant. According to Kita his father did not accompany her to her appointments.He did not send her flowers. He did not ask if she was okay. Instead Kita’s mother made her way to America to create a life of victory and hope. He took me to meet his grandmother. She said hello and came in and that was the last that I understood. The entire time I was there she would ask me questions in Russian and Kita would translate for me. He taught me how to say Hello (Privet) Yes (da) No (net) And thank you, which I don’t remember. We spent almost the entire time we were there trying to help his grandmother set up a new movie streaming program on her computer. I know nothing about computers in English, let alone in Russian. I was overwhelmed. The leather furniture just made my nervous sweat more noticeable. She told me about Ukraine a little bit. She said it was beautiful but troubled. She offered me chocolate and cookies. I sat, sweating, trying my hardest to pay attention. When I said anything to her, Kita would translate for me. I wanted to leave. After we left his grandmother’s house he told me to wait in his car while he talked privately with his grandmother. I thought it was strange but didn’t question it. I played mindless games on my phone while I waited for him. Some part of me knew that they were talking about me, but I continued to deny it. I was hungry, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything about it too soon. I was hungry often then. When he returned to the car I asked what they had talked about and with no hesitation he said, “You.” I paused, then asked him to elaborate. “She likes you,” he said. And that was that. How strange, I thought, to be liked by someone who never explicitly spoke a word to me. ~ Andrevich was Kita’s middle name. Named after his father. Kita’s father was very handsome. In his forties with tan skin and thick hair, he was a heartthrob that would make you look twice. He lived in a nice, expensive apartment in Kiev with his girlfriend who was twenty years younger than him. Apparently that was a theme. Kita had only seen his father a handful of times in his life. He had gone back to Ukraine to spend some time with him as a young boy, but didn’t have too much recollection of it. When he was sixteen he went back to live with his father and his twenty-yearold girlfriend for a while. Kita has always been tall, thin, and handsome. His father noticed this. “So what happened?” I asked him one day. 71 Kita shrugged. “He kicked me out and I came back to the states,” he said without a flinch. He said this as though it was a commonality. “He thought that I fucked his girlfriend,” he said as he lit a cigarette. There was a very long, uncomfortable silence. “Did you?” I asked. He laughed out loud and a cloud of smoke poured out of his mouth. “No, of course not,” he said. “My dad isn’t one to listen to a sixteen year old.” ~ “I’ll take you to Ukraine someday.” “Sunflowers. There are parts of Ukraine where there are endless fields of sunflowers wherever you look. They’re as tall as me and the flowers are bigger than my face.” He pulled me closer as he talked about Ukraine. He insisted that I learn all that I could about the Russia-Ukraine conflict, sending me innumerable articles daily. Through him I learned about the importance of the Ukrainian revolution and fights that had been fought, some as recent as 2011 and 2012. He told me that he wanted to fight for his people if he had to. When my eyes were flushed with concern, he pulled me in close and whispered in my ear, “I’ll survive for you.” His eyes lit up every time he talked about the fields of sunflowers in Ukraine. In the same way, his eyes lit up every time he got angry. Your golden eyes drew miners to starve and fight to abandon their homes. We were in his bed, naked, wrapped up in blankets and speckled by the corner light in his room. It was late, the kind of late that feels early. The air conditioner hummed in the place of our phones which were both off and hidden somewhere in the room. He did no wrong. He could not do any wrong. His eyes were blank but telling like a wall in a foreclosed home. All of his intentions were good. Yes. Good. “Where in Ukraine?” I asked. “Have you been eating?” he asks as he lifts up my shirt. “Kiev, the city squares. And to the huge fields of flowers.” “What kind of flowers?” 72 ~ I squirm away and pull my shirt down. “Yes, I ate just before I came here,” I say. I can still taste the salt in my mouth. “You look skinny,” he tells me with a hint of disdain in his voice. My heart soars. I look skinny. But he’s reaching for my stomach again and once again I’m backing away. We get into the car and drive to the gas station. I say that I need to go use the restroom. While Kita pumps the gas, I make my way into the small Holiday bathroom. I put my sweater on the ground and rest my knees on it, my usual routine. I stick my finger down my throat and vomit into the toilet. As I walk back outside, Kita is getting back into his car. I get in the front seat and sniffle slightly.Kita looks at me quizzically. “You okay?” he asks me. My eyes are watery, my nose is burning, and my breath is putrid. “I’m fine,” I say with a smile. ~ The elevator door was so cold against my cheek. I watched the red numbers blink as they rose. 8...9...10...11. My vision was going fuzzy and grey, my ears started ringing and throbbing. 11...12...13. Ding. The doors opened and my wobbly legs carried me down the seemingly endless hallway. My hands were barely working; as I watched them push my key into my apartment door I could not feel it. The door opened, I could see my living room window. I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the ground. “Why did you faint?” His words echoed behind the screen of my phone. “I just haven’t eaten a lot today.” There was a silence so deafening that it struck fear in my heart. Fear I had not known. “When did you eat last?” He had anger in his voice. I paused. He would know if I lied but he would hate the truth. “I had a little dinner last night,” I said quietly. “What did you eat?” His reply was sharp. I was shaking. “I had a little bit of salad I think,” I said with a quivering voice. I could hear his sigh. I can still hear his sigh. “How many times have we talked about this?” He exclaimed. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…” It didn’t matter. He didn’t listen. I had failed him again. “Do you know what it’s like to have a girlfriend that can’t even take care of herself ?” “What am I going to tell my friends?” “You’re not even trying.” I was sobbing, I was convulsing, I was sweating, all from my bed from which I could not move. My phone was glued to my ear and I had no energy to remove it. “So what are you going to do about this?” There was intense spite in his words. With a shaky voice I said, “I could send you a picture of everything I eat?” He laughed. With his full, angry throat he laughed 73 at my pain. “And do what? Post it on Facebook? Show all my friends that my girlfriend is an anorexic who can’t even feed herself ? You know what, go ahead. Maybe that’ll help you change.” I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die. My stomach kept whispering “never again, never again, never again.” Opening my mouth made me panic because it reminded me of eating. I hung up my phone and with wobbly legs I walked outside in the snow and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. ~ Months go by. Months. I watched him pack his bag with clothes that I had never seen him wear. He packed light, only a few shirts and two pairs of pants. “My dad will buy me more when I get to Ukraine,” he said. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched him focus on folding his clothes. His visa sat in the center of the bed, staring at me. I started to cry. “Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Kita said without breaking focus. I watched him form a pile of the shirts that I had grown used to him wearing. They looked like wilted flower petals. 74 “Why aren’t you taking those?” I asked, pointing to the wilted pile. “My father won’t like them,” he said. Later that night, we were drinking red wine in his bed. His room was bare and cold. I was curled against his side, my head on his chest. He stroked my bare back and played with my hair. I sighed, but not the kind of sigh that’s followed with kisses. Kita sighed too. “Petra,” he said, a tone of exasperation in his voice. “If I ever treat you like my father treats women, please leave me.” ~ I still remember how to say “I love you” in Russian. “я люблю тебя.” Ya lyublyu tebya. ~ My fingers were bones. Anything beyond mascara was too much, especially lipstick. He hated lipstick. He thought that it brought too much attention to my mouth. He didn’t like when other people noticed me. He stopped smoking cigarettes and instructed me to do so too. “They’ll make you age faster,”he would say. If I had a bad day and smoked a cigarette, he would tell me he was disappointed. I lived with three men at the time, something that Kita would never let me forget. He asked every few days to be sure I wasn’t sleeping with any of my roommates. If I was spending too much time with a friend, he would tell me that I was neglecting him. He sent me articles outlining how to be a better partner. He reminded me that he just wanted me to be the best that I could be. The screaming and hour-long phone calls were footnotes. You stripped me of my dignity and told me, “This is what you have.” Your monstrous arms crawl into my nightmares Your titanic stature collided with my glacier and though you claim I sank you You were a behemoth and I was a stone. At the end, I fell into the ground. His screams surrounded me in my echo chamber and suffocated me. My knees were bruised from kneeling in front of the toilet all night. How apt for the one accused of dropping to her knees for all men. I was free but I did not know it yet. All I knew was the cold floor of my bathroom and the tales of beautiful but troubled Ukraine. My goodbyes have been said, These addictions fed. It’s the cost that comes with the sickness. And your screams won’t be heeded anymore. 75 AN OPEN LETTER TO THE UN-SPECIALS Halle Chambers When we are little, even before we can speak We are told that we’re special and that we’re unique. That we all are made different and that none are the same Which fits quite nicely in a toddler’s mind frame. And we are told we should treasure what’s different inside, That what makes us different is not something to hide. But then quite soon after, things start to change; The word “different” stops meaning “special” and starts meaning “strange.” We’re sectioned off from our average peers In our own little category and told, “you belong here,” And then different is bad and normal is good, And for the different ones, nothing is working the way that it should The way we’ve been taught or the way we’ve been shown All we know is that we do not like being lost on our own. 76 So once again we are taken away To a place where things makes sense again and we’re ok: Where no one hurts us, Where no one can see, Where no one deserts us, Where we can be free. But because the un-specials can’t see what goes on, They decide to make things up and get so much wrong. And it’s happened for years because they can’t see through that door. So long they don’t even know that it’s wrong anymore. It’s so fixed in their heads that these lies are right; They judge each special kid by their stereotype. But today that will end. So you sit there and you wait, cause it’s about time someone set the dang record straight. You probably think that this poem won’t cut it, But today I’m gonna open the door and don’t you dare shut it! To start, let’s be clear: I am...I was in Special Ed. But just because I was in that room doesn’t mean I’m brain dead! So for Pete’s sake, don’t puppy dog guard me! Just give me a break, it isn’t that hard see: If I need your help, I will tell you I do. Just please, Please don’t mock me. In my place, would you want me to mock you? “Oh come on! Let her get it! Go easy on her!” Help, where not needed, is almost as bad as a slur. I’m not invalid So don’t play that card. Yeah, I’m a little quirky and oversensitive, But I’m not, and I quote, “A little retard.” Yeah, I’ve been called names. And those words? They hurt. They catch in the center, In your pit of self worth. And they tear and they rip, And those words are collective. Soon you start to believe that you are defective. I’ve dealt with them all, and surprisingly, I actually prefer the straight up bullies To those who pretend to like me. Fake friends and two-faces Of all genders and races. They’re only my friends so they don’t have to see me cry. Or they use me, abuse me, Oh, how they confuse me! Cause I can’t tell what’s truth and what’s lie. “Hey! He likes you. Go give him a kiss!” And because I don’t know better, I believe this. But soon I find they’re not playing Cupid, They just wanna make me look stupid. For their entertainment, they make me play the 77 fool; They pretend that they care for me When they’re really just cruel. It takes time and takes work to make you forget; Even now, I’m not quite there yet. I mean, here I am, in what’s supposed to be home, And yet here I am, still feeling alone. I’m still paranoid, it doesn’t just end; I still have to ask if someone’s my friend. I say one thing and mean another; I make a mistake, But you take it verbatim. Can’t you cut me a break? If we’re talking and I look like I’m lost, Don’t blow it off like it’s not worth the cost. Sarcasm and subtlety muddle in my brain, So please just take a minute to explain. Do these quirks make me broken? Is there something wrong with me? The way society has spoken, There would seem to be. 78 Stop poisoning the minds of “different” young women and men. I don’t like being defective.... Can I be special again? SOREX PALUSTRIS Emilie Tomas Did they name you for Your wit, pointed Nose of pointed judgement Who brought us fire; five to seven inches of shrewd truth? Or was it your mischief That Inspired them? Your Presence followed by screams And a three inch tail. I saw your likeness on a stage, Dirt in place of your midnight coat Though she is reformed now. Perhaps it was the gleam in your Eyes; whispered fortunes and A summer of silver birth. Maybe you are a messenger Of God, somehow in your Eighteen months you learned to walk On water, the second coming Of Christ. 79 woodsy adam ruff gabriel bergstrom 80 WORDS Malena Larsen The bathroom wall was covered in words. Words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. His body looked peaceful, somehow, as he sat propped and slumped against the door. His head hung to his right shoulder and his mouth was open like he was about to say something but was interrupted. There was blood running down his left arm like a river and a needle hung loosely out of his skin. The words that he had heard her say several hours earlier were getting quieter and quieter. “It’s not working,” she had told him. “I’m sorry.” They were smoking cigarettes outside her apartment when she said it. She knew he had been trying to fix himself. After twenty-eight days of treatment and one week in a sober house on Lake and Fifth she barely recognized him. He was twenty-five pounds heavier and his skin looked clean and strong; there was no more grey in his cheeks. It wasn’t just his change in appearance that scared her. Lately, he had been telling her the difference between wrong and right and that she should stay in on the weekends. His family couldn’t stop talking about how proud they were of him and they would ask her, “Doesn’t he just seem so much better?” She would answer with yes but feel guilty because she wished he still liked to make mistakes. His family had a party after he got out of treatment and his grandfather kept saying things like, “Men in this family have always been strong!” and, “Now he can take care of you.” His grandfather didn’t care for her much but he felt that she was the least of the boy’s problems. He didn’t like the way she hung on him like a scarf or the way she agreed with everything he said without a second thought. As he sat on the bathroom floor the words she had said were getting quieter and quieter. They were almost gone. He had been sober for thirty-five days and he didn’t know why. He didn’t feel better or stronger or more loved. His hand lay loosely on the floor, palm up and open like he was waiting for somebody to hold it. Everyone was so proud of him but he couldn’t imagine living his life without her. Long after her words had faded completely, the bathroom door opened. He fell back onto the floor. His head hitting hard against the tile. 81 “Oh my gosh!” The man who opened the door yelled. “Can someone help?” He took out his phone to call 911. A crowd of people rushed over to where the man was dialing. A young man pushed past the group of people. “Move!” The boy got on his knees by the body on the floor. He reached into his pocket and took out something that looked like a pen. He stuck it into the arm of the body that was needle free. People gasped and murmured and watched. Sirens rang in the distance. The boy holding the pen looked up at the bathroom wall that had words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. He looked up at the group of people. “It’s not working,” he said. 82 MALCOLM AND THE BLUE SIDE Danny Polaschek Brown leaves dragged past Malcolm’s feet in the wind. The bench underneath him felt like a rock and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He stared at the empty playground—the tire swing, the slide, the bridge and the fireman’s pole. Nikki rested her head on his shoulder. Each time a breeze swept through, Malcolm could feel her nuzzle slightly closer, her hair scratching and tickling his neck. When he was a kid, Malcolm had sat on this exact same bench many times with his mother. They lived in a little blue house just a few blocks away— “just a hop and a skip,” his mother would say and Malcolm would make it his mission to jump and bunny-hop the whole way there. When they arrived, they’d eat lunch, sitting together on the narrow, wooden bench. After each bite of his sandwich, Malcolm would beg his mother to let him go play, to which she would give in once she herself had
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Title: Murphy Square 2017: Murphy Square Visual Art and Literary Magazine
Collection: Literary Journals
Search Result: MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Ed...
Show more MURPHY SQUARE VISUAL ART & LITERARY MAGAZINE ISSUE 42, 2017 EDITORIAL BOARD Malena Larsen, Editor In Chief Abigail Tetzlaff, Associate Editor Audrey Campbell, Art & Layout Editor Cassie Dong, Art Editor Jazmin Crittenden, Art Editor Elisabeth Beam, Prose Editor Abigail Carpenter, Prose Editor Ryan Moore, Prose Editor Gabriel Benson, Poetry Editor Danny Polaschek, Poetry Editor Cary Waterman, Advisor 2 WITH THANKS TO Ivy Arts Copy and Print Augsburg College Student Government Augsburg College English Department Augsburg College Art Department The Echo Augsburg Honors Program QPA 3 TABLE OF CONTENTS 1 What Type of Black Girl Are You? Nikkyra Whittaker ........................................................................... 8 Simul Justus et Peccator, Andy Anderson .......................................................................................... 11 Queer, Eve Taft ....................................................................................................................................... 12 Jesus in a Cracker, A.Tetzlaff ................................................................................................................ 14 Grey Cloud Island, David Baboila ......................................................................................................... 17 Saint Paul Airport, David Baboila .......................................................................................................... 18 White Bear Lake, David Baboila ............................................................................................................ 19 Zips Coliseum, David Baboila ............................................................................................................... 20 Bridge, Jacob J. Miller ............................................................................................................................ 21 50 Feet Tall, Emilie Tomas ...................................................................................................................... 25 Meow, Ashley Waalen ............................................................................................................................ 26 Mousetrap, Halle Chambers .................................................................................................................. 27 Faces, Constance Klippen ..................................................................................................................... 29 I Don’t Always Feel Colored, Diamonique Walker ............................................................................... 30 Where I am From, Hannah Schmit ......................................................................................................... 32 Who Am I?, Ashley Waalen .................................................................................................................... 34 2 Gratitude, D.E Green .............................................................................................................................. CSBR, Gabriel Bergstrom ...................................................................................................................... The Fire, Elisabeth Beam ........................................................................................................................ Desert Drums, Abigail Carpenter .......................................................................................................... Colors, Hannah Schmit ........................................................................................................................... Urban Delight, Jazmin Crittenden ......................................................................................................... When Dad Wore Cologne, A. Tetzlaff .................................................................................................... Shitty Christmas Trees, Elisabeth Beam ............................................................................................... Summer Nights, Adam Ruff ................................................................................................................... 36 38 39 41 42 43 44 46 48 The People United, Adam Ruff .............................................................................................................. 49 After the Hike, Adam Ruff ..................................................................................................................... 50 Crumbs, Malena Larsen ......................................................................................................................... 51 Bloomed, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................................................... 55 Pruned, Audrey Campbell ...................................................................................................................... 56 Herman, Danny Polaschek ................................................................................................................... 57 El Barrio Suyo, Chad Berryman ............................................................................................................. 60 The Neighborhood, Chad Berryman ..................................................................................................... 61 Odyssey, Eve Taft .................................................................................................................................... 62 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 63 Postcards From My Bedroom, Audrey Campbell ................................................................................. 64 Counting Sheep, Danny Polaschek ...................................................................................................... 65 3 Sky Nights, Keeyonna Fox ...................................................................................................................... 67 Inner Self, Keeyonna Fox ....................................................................................................................... 68 Victory of the People, Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk ............................................................................. 69 An Open Letter to the Un-specials, Halle Chambers ...........................................................................76 Sorex Palustris, Emilie Tomas ................................................................................................................. 79 Woodsy Adam Ruff, Gabriel Bergstrom .................................................................................................. 80 Words, Malena Larsen ................................................................................................................................. 81 Malcom, Danny Polaschek ....................................................................................................................... 83 DRIVING AT ZERO ONE, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 85 DRIVING AT ZERO TWO, John Herbert ................................................................................................... 86 Placemakers, Diamonique Walker ........................................................................................................ 87 A Necessary Evil Thing Considered in any Light, Jacob J. Miller ....................................................... 88 1 WHAT TYPE OF BLACK GIRL ARE YOU? Nikkyra Whittaker On the spectrum of being black and female, we can only be what we appear to be. Take this quiz to find out what kind of black girl you really are! 1. You’re listening to the radio on the way to Target. You’re playing… a. Beyonce’s “****Flawless” b. Taylor Swift’s “Fifteen” or “You Belong With Me” or “Wildest Dreams” c. Chris Brown’s “Loyal” d. Keri Hilson’s “Pretty Girl Rock” 2. It’s your day off work. What will you be doing? a. Blowing off steam on Facebook. b. Watching old episodes of One Tree Hill c. Out for drinks and scoping eye candy d. Talking shit with the ladies while drinking Moscato! 3. What’s your dream home like? a. Full of books on systemic oppression b. Beverly Hills penthouse c. Some big shot rapper’s mansion d. Spacious New York Loft 8 4. Your favorite TV show is… a. Docu-series on race b. Sex in the City c. Bad Girls Club d. Love and Hip Hop 5. Finally, who’s your favorite female icon from this list? a. Angela Davis b. Taylor Swift c. New York from I Love New York d. Nicki Minaj Tally up how many of each letter you got and turn the page to find out who you really are! If you got mostly a’s...You’re an Angry Black Girl! Congratulations, you loud-mouthed, anger filled home-girl! I’m guessing there’s always some reason to be mad at someone, isn’t there? Do you just spend your days in a perpetual state of rage, angry at the world for reasons they don’t find important? Do you find yourself constantly snapping your fingers in that z-formation, pursing your lips at anyone who steps in your way? I bet people are telling you to just be quiet, huh? I mean, what issues could you, a black female, possibly have? Why should you care that your high school English teacher gives you a C+ on your essay because she thinks you copied it from the white man online? Why does it matter that your male co-worker at Target constantly teases you about your nappy hair, calling it a “brillo pad,” “cheeto puff,” or some other clever name? None of this should anger you! Be aware, you sassy Sapphire, in this world, your anger means nothing. If you got mostly b’s...You’re an Oreo! You grew up watching Lizzie McGuire and listening to Aaron Carter. You straightened your hair from the moment you were old enough to assert yourself and cried when it wouldn’t lay flat. Your friends were always shocked to see you bring collard greens and jambalaya to lunch so you stopped eating your favorite foods. They didn’t understand why you couldn’t just brush your hair, wash your hair everyday, why it suddenly grew or shrunk inches overnight. I’m certain you’ve heard from many of your friends how they just don’t see you as a black girl. They erase your black skin because it doesn’t fit the images of other black girls they see. You spend most of your time edging away from the loud black girls, the ghetto black girls who ate hot cheetos and drank kool aid and had corn rows and long braids and smelled like a mix of the jungle and your ancestors pain and you wished, maybe for a just a moment, but you did wish that you could be white. But honey, you can never wash off that melanin! It’s a permanent stain. Just because your friends can’t see the black on you, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world can’t. 9 If you got mostly c’s...You’re a Hip Hop Ho! You sexual deviant you! Let me guess—big breasts, small waist, and wide hips? You’ve got that original Betty Boop to you, something in your eyes that say yes to a question no one bothers to ask. You’re the black girl that white guys use as a notch in their belt. You are the exotic sexual being that men love to hate and hate to love. You became a sexual thing at a young age, when your breasts came in at ten years old and became d-cups at fourteen. They started looking at you differently, didn’t they? Your eyes stopped existing. Your words didn’t matter. Your body became the tool used to diminish your worth. How often did you get yelled at in school to put on something less revealing than your shorts? Did you ever wonder why the skinny, flat-assed white girls were never told the same thing? Honey, your wide hips wrapped in chocolate skin were never yours. You will never be yours. 10 If you got mostly d’s...You’re a Ghetto Fabulous Black Girl! You make what little money you can working at Walmart or doing nails. You make people waiting at the bus stop with you uncomfortable with your loud laughter and yellow and pink braids and long, bedazzled nails. You toss your weave around, remove your earrings, and square up to anyone that says shit about you. When you’re out, you are often told to stop yelling, screaming, taking up space. You’ve got baby daddy problems and you’re only 18. You grew up playing double dutch in the middle of the street with old rope. You accept your black, your ghetto, your Ebonics. But you are not supposed to accept yourself, honey! Don’t you see the fashion police spreads in the magazines? You are on all the pages! Don’t show your hips. Put on a shirt that conceals your stomach. Put your breasts away. Don’t wear bright lipstick. Stop standing out, being different. Get smaller, quieter, lesser, as you are supposed to be. You love your black too loudly and it makes others uncomfortable. Your job is to make people comfortable so do your best to limit the loudness of your melanin. simul justus et peccator andy anderson 11 QUEER Eve Taft You think there isn’t a sign on my ribs that says “stonewall inn”? You think Matthew Shepard doesn’t tug at my hair and warn me as I walk the streets of my city? You think I don’t choke on the smoke from the hellfire you spit from your pulpits with sparks that sear and heat branding irons which scar your names on me to mark me as danger? You think my veins don’t shiver when they think of the devastation wracking the cities that some called deliverance while Reagan fiddled as we burned You think that the prisons pink triangles asylums bullets spitting into a nightclub don’t whisper in my head as I make my way through the world? 12 You think that I don’t notice— I kiss her and kiss her —the headline blowing by with a death toll and I kiss her the skyline splashing out behind us the lights on the Washington Avenue bridge flicker on and I kiss her Putin criminalizes us, across the world I kiss her Vigils held too late for young suicides Corrupting, perverted, disgusting, an affront to family values— I kiss her in the rain and the sleet of Minnesota I kiss her, our lips tasting of chants from the protest that shut down I-94 handed down from our grandmothers hearts beating, eyes sparkling, alive I kiss her You think I forget the lists and the candles and the deaths and the pain and all that roars in my ears is a chorus screaming over and over again you were not able to kill us I kiss her and all is still 13 JESUS IN A CRACKER A. Tetzlaff Eucharist I hugged my father’s black, pleated pants while we waited for mass to start. He was beaming proudly and chatting with the rest of our family. I wore the only dress I allowed to touch my body: by then it was a year old and from my uncle’s wedding when I walked down the aisle carrying a bouquet, looking like a blonde deer caught in front of a semi truck. It had a black velvet top connected to a white skirt. All the girls wore white. My parents cut their losses. All the boys, shirt and tie. Eight-year-olds taking their first communion despite the fact that most of us had no idea what was happening. Understanding the sacraments isn’t really necessary when you grow up in a Catholic family. By the time you are aware of your burden, it’s too late anyway. Religion lived at Nativity of Our Lord Parish, in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Between church and home, I lived in a realm of contradiction. I came to visit religion, but it never went home with me. On Sundays when the game was in town, God would not judge you for wearing your Packer jersey to church. Sinning was bad, but you could tailgate and drink and carouse to your heart’s content. We should have taken beer at 14 that first communion. We would have appreciated it more than the wine. We took our places in the ritual that had been performed again and again. The time-worn ritual begins anew as I walk to the altar with my hands folded in front of me. I must remember to raise my hands high enough so the rheumatic priest doesn’t have to bend down. Right hand over left. I’m a blonde deer again. “The body of Christ.” This is the part where I say, “Amen,” whether I mean it or not, then put the communion wafer in my mouth. I must cross myself (right hand touching head, then left shoulder, then right shoulder) as I walk back up the aisle and toward my family. They liked to sit in the middle section, never too close to the altar. They didn’t like making direct eye-contact with the priest during his homily. To this day I skip the wine for fear of communicable diseases. It stuck to the roof of my mouth, this first communion wafer. It was stale. There was no substance. Maybe the parched flour and water, mixed with the lingering incense is actually what Jesus tastes like. The absorbent clump lasted into the next hymn. Saliva rushed into my mouth and eventually the wafer, heavy with mois- ture, fell from the roof of my mouth. I swallowed without chewing. Just go with it, I told myself. All these people believe in this, so one day, you will too. But I wasn’t sure. I didn’t get it. The power that kept me from running back up the aisle wasn’t the love of God gently pushing me along, but the ritual itself, and the expectation of my parents and grandparents watching proud and probably dewy-eyed as I joined their ranks. Hugs and smiles and congratulations as my family comes out of the first communion Mass, but I wasn’t sure what was such cause for celebration; I hadn’t had a great epiphany about God, nor had I felt any change at all. It was just like every Sunday late in October. head and tell me I was forgiven. “Sometimes, I’m not very nice to my mom or my brother,” I told him. Navitity didn’t own a confessional booth like the ones in movies. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a confessional booth at any Catholic church outside the movies. We sat quietly in a tiny room. Being small for my age, I circled the air below me with my feet. I sat facing him directly. He crossed his legs under the cassock he wore, clearly annoyed. After a silence and a slow nod, the priest said, “Sometimes, we hurt the people we love the most.” It was the only part I heard or remember hearing; he started talking about God’s forgiveness, I assume. I didn’t pay attention, because I didn’t feel different after admitting such a pitiful sin. Marriage I had no ill-feeling toward the physical place of church. In fact, the ritual, the sounds, the smell of incense, and the light that filtered through the stained-glass windows from an Easterly rising sun became familiar and comforting over the years. The nave, filled with old pews, had witnessed my parents’ wedding and my grandparents’ weddings. The organ towered over the choir. The smell of old patrons and Sunday cologne too liberally applied became a sensory memory of that place. However, religion has never been an inward practice; the practice and the scene never joined together. Anointing of the Sick When times are bad, I’ve pulled the fragments of ritual from my memory and recite the “Our Father.” I did this in the winter of my eighteenth year in days following my grandfather’s funeral. He died of bladder cancer, worsened by a communicable bacterial infection called C.Difficile. I became familiar with the ritual of funeral; I’d been to three or four for close relatives. But this time, the ritual felt different. Before, I was sad. My grandfather’s funeral confirmed that the only sacred part of my world had been ripped mercilessly from my arms. Reconciliation “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”As the words come out of my mouth, they themselves felt sinful. I hadn’t sinned, I was eleven. I barely knew what sin was. I had to stop a moment to think of a sin I had committed, so the priest could nod his Baptism I sat in the shower until the water hitting my face was colder than I could stand, reciting the “Our Father” over and over, sobbing. Our Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. I hoped, over so many repetitions, that my view 15 of God and heaven would change. Yet, it confused me more. Religion stopped looking like the patron blind to reality and became a place where I didn’t belong. Like I was missing out because I didn’t get that epiphany, and didn’t have that same faith. Confirmation Religion was so stale, that when my Mother would occasionally talk about faith, or God, or divine love at the dinner table I would blush with pity and embarrassment. How can you believe this? I thought, how can you be so blind to the real world? Perhaps, I’m the blind one. I continue to live in an intermediate space between faith and atheism. I can’t commit to either. The fence between atheism and faith is fraught with angst. Most days, I try to laugh away my uncertainty. I tell jokes about my Catholic past, chuckle when I hear of “recovering Catholics,” and tell friends, “It smells like a Catholic church in here,” whenever they burn incense. Religion is still stale to me. Religion has no nutritional value. Stale religion has no holy orders. 16 grey cloud island david baboila 17 saint paul airport david baboila 18 white bear lake david baboila 19 zips coliseum david baboila 20 BRIDGE Jacob J. Miller This was not way back when, as my dad would have you believe. It was more recent than that. If he can’t flat out deny it, which he no longer can, he will at least try to convince you that it was so long ago as to suggest it might have been a different lifetime, and he a different person. He has been, after all, Born Again. Except he was not the only person involved, and to carry along as if he was is an exercise in what I’ve heard philosophers call solipsism. For him, his transgression was between himself and the Holy Ghost: accountable not to those he wronged, only to an invisible spirit. But he doesn’t have sole authority in determining the past’s relevance or irrelevance to our lives today. My mother too pretends the past is only what has happened at a particular point in time, and not a factor in what determines what has happened since then and what is happening now. The slate wiper theory of forgiveness is what allowed them to wear their veneer of innocence and believe in its authenticity, and for that reason I resent their new-leaf turnover. My love for them may not be emergent in my words, I know, but I do love them, regardless of the fucked up traits they passed on to their children, which will become evident as this story unfolds You might be wondering, if you care at all, what could be so terrible. Well, it’s not so terrible, and not even very uncommon, but it happened to me, and my brothers and my sisters, and there was never anything we could really do about it. We watched it unfold almost every night to reveal its rotted pit. What was scariest was not when a half-full beer bottle would be hurled in our direction for us being too noisy, and then being held responsible for wasting the beer, and getting punished even more for that. What was scariest was when they fought with each other, mom and dad, when they were both liquored up. All of us children would be sitting in the living room, on our knees, in a line, with our hands folded and tucked inside our clenched thighs, having hitherto been fulfilling our playful, childish duties who couldn’t expect things to go so suddenly and intensely wrong. They would fight about anything, or nothing, for all we knew or cared. They would yell, swear, slam their fists on various surfaces, throw things across the room at each other as if rehearsed. One time, I remember, and this is what I’m talking about when I talk about how scary things got, my 21 dad had my mom pinned up against the refrigerator—after she threw three or four plates at him, one that hit his arm, but would have hit his face if he hadn’t been blocking, and cut it deep. He had the sharp kitchen knife pressed firmly under her chin. If she gulped too hard in fear, or if dad in his stupor lost balance, she would have been bleeding all over the family pictures held by magnets to the fridge. As we grew older, my big brother and I began working under dad instead of merely living under him. Our prospects in life weren’t substantial at that point. Whatever potential we had, it had never been encouraged, so entering into the family business, if it can even be called that, was the only viable option. I woke dad up most mornings from his typical collapse into a face-down, fetal heap on the kitchen floor, sometimes still wet, sometimes already crusted over. I’d say, “it’s time for work, dad,” and he’d drive me to the site where (drinking coffee with whiskey in it on the way) heavy machinery was waiting to be operated—even though we used hammers and nails whenever we could. Stonehenge-sized slabs of cement, wooden pillars, cinder blocks, and iron rods littered the landscape. It was all so disorderly that if a nomad wandered upon the scene, the indication would be of destruction rather than pre-construction. There were no piles of allocated materials or inventoried supply lists. It could have all been salvaged from past demolitions or by thievery from other project sites. We seemed to accrue it all without any kind of exchange or standard of accountability for use. Everything seemed to just show up wherever and whenever we needed it. Who actually made all this stuff? How did we move it from place to place to use from job to job? Who permitted my sodden father to oversee such potentially hazardous 22 projects? He was a self-made man outside the advent of auditing. What did I care then? I was making my way, fashioning for myself a future out of will power, and holding my breath until I could extricate myself from this grim farce. First day on the job, my dad said to me, don’t fuck up, or he’d make me test the bridge before the support beams were all in place. I believed him. That particular bridge wasn’t connecting two sides over a raging river or anything; more of a convenient pathway over a stream, but it was still a threat coming from dad. Second day on the job, my brother James tore partway through his leg with a chainsaw. I heard him yell, but it sounded more out of frustration than terror and pain. He sat down, ripped his immediately blood-soaked pants from where the initial tear was, delicately unlaced and removed his boot so as not to cause more pain, grunting as if he had done nothing more than step in dog shit, and lifted the nearly severed part of his leg that dangled lifelessly like a tube sock on a clothesline, to close the wound, from which I saw steam rising sacrificially to the wintery heavens. He reached forward to grab the excess of sock which, although bunched up at his toes, had a long, tortuous journey before being completely removed. He screamed as he stretched forward, more circumstantially appropriate this time, and this is when I dropped my— whatever, the thing I was holding, I can’t remember what, but I didn’t hear it land because I couldn’t assimilate anything else that may have been transpiring around me. I almost seemed to float over to him, not even aware of my legs propelling me forward. I saw all the blood, but I wasn’t put off by it as much as I thought I probably should have been, and I thought that as I stared at it pooling out. I observed it dispassionately, coldly, but I may not have been breathing. At first sight, it was just an organic pipe that sprung a leak. I think I asked if he was all right but I meant it more like did he think he was going to die. He said to go get dad and that’s when I became afraid. I stood there for I don’t know how long, until he repeated himself more urgently: “Walt!” he said, “Go! Get! Dad!” I listened that time, but I was still very afraid. I was trembling and began feeling like I might faint, and I almost hoped I wouldn’t find dad, that he’d be off drinking somewhere, but he wasn’t. He was drinking right there, over a small mound of dirt, holding a big piece of wood sturdy for someone to do something with. I saw his breath bellow out into the cold with a cough and evaporate as he took a swig from a bottle before sliding it back into his coat pocket, without so much as a pretense of inconspicuousness.The bottle neck stuck straight out and brushed against his elbow, a cumbersome lump sinking down and throwing off his equilibrium further than the ethanol already had. I slowed my pace, tried to regain some composure, and still hoped he wouldn’t notice me. I could claim an attempt at getting his attention, but he just couldn’t be bothered with me. I tried, I’d tell James, but I’ll carry you. I was sure I could have done that. Part of me still wished I could have avoided involving my dad at all. It was selfish, but I thought I might get slapped with the blame. But I yelled, Dad! Come quick! Dad, I yelled again, skidding on the gravel as I spun around, intent on not letting my dad’s impatient glare lock on me, and from that momentum, nearly ascending at a perfectly horizontal angle in the air before I landed face first on those same tiny rocks, a perfect reenactment of self-humiliation on the school playground at recess. I felt all those multiple points of impact, but wasted no time in catapulting myself back up—no time for embarrassment just yet—clawed off the pebbles that clung gently to the tiny dents they bore into my face and palms, and sped back to my brother who, when I reached the dirt-mound summit again, I could see was lying flat, surrounded by the thick, still-steaming purplish puddle which had, since I left him, at least quadrupled in circumference. Not looking back at all during my return sprint to see how far behind me dad was, or even if he followed me at all, I turned from the sight of my brother completely to see him, Dad, shuffling over the mound, bogged down by beer bottles, which could be heard clanging together in his pockets. He was wheezing inhalations of frozen air. He saw James right away, I know it, but he didn’t say anything until he got right up close to him, planting one clumsy boot in the blood puddle with a squelchy, meager splat, like an old-fashioned letter-sealing stamp on melted wax. He leaned over with outward turned elbows and hands on hips, looked at James’ face. James’ eyes were closed. Dad then scanned down to the butchered leg, grimaced, scanned back up to James’ face. James’ eyes were now open again, frigid with shock, and dad said, “pull yourself together, son,” erupting hysterically at his own clever buffoonery. James turned out to live, no real thanks to our father. I ended up having to run to the nearest phone anyway and call an ambulance. He didn’t even lose his leg. He did require a blood transfusion because he lost gallons of it, or at least it seemed like it when I stood there staring at the mess, but his gristly cheeks had their color restored right in front of me, resupplying and, it almost seemed, re-inflat23 ing him to human shape at the coercion of some stranger’s bodily elixir. It worked like sorcery, but far more astonishing because it was methodologically reliable. The warm fluid surged through his veins, and he was ensconced for a moment in a prodigious glow of newfound vitality. Back then, my dad, laughing, called him a lucky son-of-a-bitch, whereas telling the story now, upon reflection and suspension of rational thought, my brother was “touched by an angel.” Now, whenever this celestial creature of mercy is mentioned, who conveniently remains anonymous for humility’s sake I suppose, instead of our dad drunkenly laughing and mocking the situation, James does. An example of an aforementioned fucked up trait passed on in the family. 24 50 FEET TALL Emilie Tomas I was in 5th grade When my class went To see ‘The Human Body’ and I watched In childhood Horror as A 50 foot grin Unfurled, loomed Large enough To pull me Into orbit Devoured First a sandwich And then my Faith in humanity With deafening Smacks Like thunder If thunder Was made Of jelly and Dismay and I Knew it was a Crime to allow a Person to become This Inflated, With every pore Its own path to Hell and I knew I couldn’t trust Anyone because In our heads We are all 50 feet tall. 25 meow you see ashley waalen 26 MOUSETRAP Halle Chambers Minnie “Mousy” O’Mally knew she was invisible up here on her fire escape. This was her safeplace. With the ladder pulled up as it was now, almost no one could reach her here. Plus, even if someone did make it up here, she could easily get away. If she crawled rough the window, she’d be securely locked in the apartment. There, it was warm and dry and at least sometimes safe when her daddy…no, excuse her, correction, “Father or Sir” wasn’t home. He hated when she called him Daddy. He wasn’t home now, out doing illegal God knows what in the “family business,” but he would be back soon. Hence why she was out here. So, no apartment, not right now. If she dropped the ladder, she could slide down to street level in seconds and be down the block in under a minute. She knew, because she’d practiced and had timed herself. The only way to avoid getting hit in the face was to be quick on your feet. That was the first rule of fighting that Jase, her older brother, had taught her. With the life they lived, it was also a rule of survival. And they didn’t call her “Mousy” for nothing: she was small and fast… very fast. Jase could make a distraction, and Minnie could run. But, Jase was working a job that “Father” had given him out of town till this weekend, and she’d surely get caught if she didn’t have her usual head-start. So,“down” wouldn’t work either. If she scaled up the ladder above her, she’d be on the roof, where their oldest brother, Cobie, had often taken her and Jase to stargaze. She hadn’t known till six years into her still short life that he’d done it to keep his precious baby brother and sister away from their father’s sight when the man would come home satellite high or plastered. She hadn’t known till twelve years in that he’d take their father’s hungover backhand on the mornings after, so she and Jase didn’t. All she’d known as he’d taught her each constellation was that Cobie was braver than Orion and that she and her brothers were more inseparable than the Gemini twins. But, her world went as topsy-turvy as Cassiopeia when her father had sent Cobie away, saying he would not have a queer as a son. When Jase and Minnie hugged him, Cobie swore he’d come back for them in a year or so. Jase had given up when he’d been two years gone. That was two years ago, and now even Minnie 27 was starting to doubt. No, she couldn’t go up to the roo, not alone. She shivered in the October chill as she reviewed her options: “in” would be facing her father’s wrath, “down” would be facing being caught by a cop or a stranger, and “up” would be facing a reminder of the happiness, now heartbreak, brought by a brother who was likely never coming home again. So, maybe she couldn’t escape easily…or at all. She shivered again, this time more in frantic panic than from the frigid, near winter city wind. For not the first time in her life, Mousy felt trapped. 28 faces connie kilppen 29 *I DON’T ALWAYS FEEL COLORED Diamonique Walker Sometimes I find comfort in places I somehow know I don’t belong Never a full day, but hours will pass and I won’t consider my brown skin or kinky hair I’ll let the imminent fear of my black body being made into an example fall back to the depths of my mind My daughter’s safety in mixed company won’t occur to me I won’t juxtapose my blackness with any other’s identity confidence As if one chooses randomly from a pile of stock black girl names when they look at me He asks me if my hair is real I tell him he can’t ask me that He says oh it’s okay, my girlfriend is black I’m a dirty smudge on freshly ironed white linens Trying to blend in, trying to live my life I breathe, momentarily Suddenly, I’ll feel breathless, choked Stabbed in the chest Stung by a white hot micro aggressive slap in the face An unsolicited violation of my personal space A pale hand gently pulls a lock of my hair in white amazement Or a thin pair of lips will say “what’s upppppp” to me and not anyone else I’ll get called a name like Jasmine with such utter 30 *Line borrowed from Claudia Rankine, Citizen WHERE I AM FROM Hannah Schmit I am from the forest. From ruddy Maple and heady Pine. I am from the sunlit dust that refracts the life of the breeze. The rough wood of the trees are my bones, roots firmly planted deep in the depths of the cool black soil. Generations have taught me to live in the sun, tan weathered hands, calloused and worn cover small, break earth and sow seeds. Exhaling with the unfurling of new leaves whose first stretch welcomed life, I learned the importance of patience and nurturing. I am from dirt beneath my nails and gritty sand in my teeth. Sap painted hands and hot tar feet, blackened from short dashes across burning pavement that rippled with summer heat. Sandboxes were my kingdom, the layers of silt and sand familiar to my prodding hands. I climbed turreted towers of twisted bark and branches to survey the world and breath in time with the breeze. Twigs and leaves were my crown and a rusty tractor my carriage. My people were the songbirds and insistent cicadas whose songs filtered lazily together through the woods. Sometimes I called back, matching note for note, melodies and harmonies creating a canopy of familiarity. I am from wildflowers who nodded their velvet, satin, and paintbrush heads as I passed by. From dried grasses whose sweet scent rose from rolling waves that undulated under horse-tail clouds above. The gold-fringed top of the corn is my hair as it turns to brown under the autumn sun. I am from the passing of seasons, each marking the time as brilliant red and orange gave way to pristine white and serene gray. Freckles and sunburn traded for pale skin cold kissed cheeks. My life can be counted in scraped knees and bruises, and band-aids and scars, each a story unique unto itself. I am from the water. Clear and silted, still and rushing it surrounds me. The river courses through my veins, its steady pulse my heartbeat. I am from the muted silence of holding my breath. From letting go in the soft pixelated light that swirls lazily in the haze of a murky river. From the dew that rests in early mists that lay as a blanket over a newly purified earth, protecting the last of the dawn. I am from music. Love-strung tunes of lullabies rock 31 my past to sleep and call forth dog-eared memories. Treasured memories that float fragmented in my mind, I was waltzing with my darling… Goodnight, Irene… Then sings my soul… Black Forest I have come to be in this place. Knit sweaters and hand me downs weave the fabric of my personality. The black ink of the notes is stained on my fingers, the lyrics printed out as a map on my mind. My body is movement, ‘full of grace’ as I danced through recitals and music competitions. My history is composed of the ivory keys of a piano board, the metallic strings of a guitar, and the soft wheeze of a musty accordion. I am from survivors. From broken families and lives I was given the opportunity to begin. Out of the ashes of war and blood, death and pain I was taught compassion. The scars remind me of my privilege. A handful of ink-smeared letters, a fading tattoo, and relentless nightmares that went unspoken. Touched by shadows of heartbreak and longing I have learned the fears of disease and pain, the cruelty of man and the destruction of illness. I am from a legacy. Footsteps preceded my very first and taught me how to stand tall—to walk courageously. When I was tired of walking and needed to fly, strong hands lay behind me as I learned to test my own strength. I am from fading memories. From sweat and ploughs, rough tools and run down sheds. My past is a copper foundation of saved pennies stretched with love and trust. The polished wood of a hunter’s gun and tug of a taut fishing line tie me to the land of a generation gone by. I am from the creaking wood of a ship that ferried dreams. From the fjords and 32 I am from strength. From weary hands that sought to move forward. From songs crooned in different tongues, prayers tucked away from missed lives. I am from the sweet smell of tobacco. From a worn brown pipe laid in the top overall pocket. From tales of Shirley Temple and shiny black shoes. From the canoe as it passes over reeds and the click of a cane keeping time with shuffling shoes. From sterilized rooms and flowers with similarly fated owners. I am from loss and tears. I am from the Mississippi and the Great Lakes, from steam and coal. From concrete jungles and log cabins. I am a piece of the past, I am… The rooms of my mind are wallpapered with snapshots of a younger me. Sayings and phrases are the soundtrack of my life. I carry them with me. Tucked in locked and forgotten rooms they wait patiently, longingly for me to recall. future. I seek not where I am going only exist here, as I am. I am from the past. Shaped by the present I live for the future. I am from wanderlust. An incorrigible desire to explore that cannot be quelled with the stillness between heartbeats. I am from the excitement that teeters on the brink of the inevitable. I am pulled at by the gentle whisper of religions. Called to the beauty of holiness in the world, I am grounded in the church yet growing in the temple and the mosque. I am gentle hands that have learned to be useful—to give back. Well-used fingers taught to survive and protect. I am a collection of places and people that I have encountered. In love with humanity, I exchange comfort for experience. I am at home in the concrete jungles constructed from heat-cracked pavement and in the mudpatched hut of the desert. The mountains and caves call to me like the trees and fields of my youth. I am at home in the grand expanse of a world that knows no limits, understands no boundaries. A world that exists, simply to exist. My feet itch to travel down forgotten paths where the dust of ages can billow out from under me and cloud the clarity of the 33 who am i? ashley waalen 34 2 GRATITUDE: A POEM IN FOUR PARTS D.E. Green 1. Le Chaim 2. In Praise of Delusion Each day, my own sunrise, my own morning star: your red head radiates strange aerial spikes. When he walks down the sloping skyway from Memorial to the Music building on his way to a long evening class, he sees his reflection in the large classroom window at the base of the slope. He loves that mirror. In it, he is about a foot taller than his five-fiveand-a-half and twenty pounds lighter. He is younger than his sixty years. The silver hair is less telling. As he approaches, the Other ways slightly, moves with the elegant gait of an athlete or dancer. This, he imagines, is my Norwegian double—tall and slender and (at least from this distance) good-looking. Of course as man and image converge, his Other shrinks into an eastern-European, Semitic, rather compact, little old man. Perhaps (he wonders) I have seen the inner image of myself. Perhaps (he smiles) I am happy just to have illusions. Our son’s beard and long Hasidic locks on a head never bowed in prayer hover over his guitar and, till he gets it just so, a heavy-metal riff. The picture of Ollie, our old pup,— his face speaks love, love, love. Like the holiday meal you’ll pretend to let me cook. Or when your hand gently strokes my heaving shoulder: I am sobbing silently because the movie has ended well—a good death, timely reconciliation, vows revived, a renewed breath. 36 3. Thanksgiving 4: To My Son This morning, as I drive from Northfield to Hampton past field after barren field, three wild turkeys foraging and gobbling at the edge of the road— their white-splashed wings, black-feathered trunks, It’s Friday, Z—, and (as always) time to say how much I love you (and your mom too, since I don’t say it often enough though I feel it every minute) and how much I miss you and hope you can spend a few hours with us and Grandma the first weekend in November. We worry about you every day, ‘cuz that’s our job, but we also have an abiding sense of how strong you are: How much you have been through, how far you’ve come, and how you face each day with grit—and, I hope, love. The latter is so hard to do: Over breakfast your mom and I sometimes sit around and whine about our work, about grading student papers. But a little later I’ll be walking across campus and the light will be just right and I’ll see a familiar face amid a group of young people and—I don’t know why—I feel love. I think that’s the word. And I felt it last time we picked you up downtown and you were talking to some scruffy stranger on the street. And the fact that you can still be open to such encounters—isn’t that love too?— filled me with wonder. It’s funny: Old people, among whom I am about to number, have proverbially been beyond wonder, such a romantic and old-fashioned word. But I swear that I still feel it—and that you are among the wonders of my world. red combs poking and pecking the gravel and weeds—surprise me. I flinch. The car swerves. I breathe. They range unruffled. 37 work in progress gabriel bergstrom 38 THE FIRE Elisabeth Beam I stood with my back to the crowd watching the house go up in flames. It happened faster than I had expected. It had taken less than a minute for the fire to spread from the kitchen to the living room and even less time for it to make its way upstairs and into the bedrooms where Grandma and the twins had been peacefully sleeping. Joel stood beside me; his face was dark with ash, his mouth tilted upwards in a sickeningly gleeful smile. Momma had never liked Joel. She said he was a troublemaker and I should do my best to stay away from him. Joel hadn’t always been mean. When I first met him he would bring me friends and make me laugh. He gave me my grey tabby cat, Walter, and my small white bunny, Snowy. We used to all run around the garden and play and laugh. I didn’t like it when Walter and Snowy played. Walter always hurt Snowy. Joel loved it. Snowy’s pain filled shrieks always brought a smile to his face. Joel would play tricks on Momma. He’d move the chair she was about to sit in and she’d tumble to the floor with a crash and a scream. He would put dead things in the twins’ crib for Momma to find. Once he brought a live snake into the house and slipped it into the shower when Momma was in it. She screamed something awful and had locked me in my room for a week. I always got blamed for Joel’s wicked tricks. Momma brought a lot of new friends to the house after that. She brought in men wearing long white coats who talked with me and asked questions about Joel and Walter and Snowy. Joel would stand behind them as they questioned me and make faces. I didn’t understand why they didn’t just talk to Joel and grew frustrated with their questions. Once Momma brought home a man in a black suit. He walked around the house mumbling in a strange language, throwing water on the walls and waving his cross around like a baton. I thought he was crazy. I told Momma and she told me to hush and sit down. The man stood in front of me yelling in his strange way and holding his cross on my forehead. It was cold and made me uncomfortable. Joel got upset. He didn’t like the man and the way he was 39 shouting. The next thing I knew the man was on the floor bleeding from a gash in his head and Joel was laughing loudly in my ear. A bunch of police officers showed up and Joel told me not to tell anyone what he’d done. He said I should blame it on Momma and she’d go away for a long time and stop bothering us. Momma shouted and cried and struggled as the police dragged her away to the sound of Joel’s gleeful laughter and the twins’ high pitched screams. Grandma came after Momma. She was mean. She locked me in my room and told me to stay there until I learned my lesson. I watched him stalk around the room at night mumbling darkly to himself. Grandma made me to go church with her every Sunday, she said I had to pray for my soul for what I’d done to that man and to Momma. I didn’t understand why everyone blamed me for Joel’s tricks and was tired of being punished for all the naughty things that he did. One night at supper, Joel made scary faces at the twins who started wailing. Grandma stood up and yelled at me as she tried desperately to calm the twins. She told me to go to my room. I said no. I pointed at Joel and yelled at him with all my might. This was all his fault. Grandma sent me to bed. Joel told me they were going to send me away. They would separate us and I would never be able to see him again. I told him I was fine with that because he was being horrible. That upset him. He got Walter and Snowy and made me watch as Walter ate Snowy. I cried. He laughed. Joel woke me up at midnight. He told me we could stay together. Me, him, and Walter, but we had to do 40 something first. He smelt like gasoline. He led me to the kitchen and pointed to the stove which was covered with a sticky, sweet smelling liquid. He told me to open my hands. I did. He handed me a lighter. I didn’t want to do it but Joel got angry when I tried to say no. He yelled and told me to do it for all the times Momma blamed me for something he did. That if I did this everyone would finally realize it was him doing all the bad things and not me. My hands were shaking so bad it took me five tries to get the lighter to ignite. When it did I froze and stared at the small flame in my hands. It flickered with every shuttering breath that came out of my mouth. Joel grew impatient and slapped the lighter out of my hand and onto the stove. There was a large whooshing noise and a blast of orange light. My arm hair stood on end and sweat trickled down my face. I backed away. Joel stood in front of the fire and laughed. He threw his arms out wide and danced in tune with the flames. He was crazy but his movements were so beautiful and fluid. It was frightening. The fire advanced toward me. I didn’t want to move. I wanted the fire to eat me like it was going to eat Grandma and the twins. Joel grabbed my hand and led me outside. We stood to the side and watched as the fire slowly ate up the house I had grown up in. The house that the priest, the twins, and Grandma had all died in. Sirens and smoke filled the night air. I looked to my side for Joel, but he had disappeared. DESERT DRUMS Abigail Carpenter When my London flatmate, Raoni, suggested we travel to Northern Africa because he was missing the heat of Brazil, we had no intention of visiting the Sahara Desert and the Atlas Mountains. But we quickly made friends with a generous and hospitable Moroccan man, Raxido, who invited us to a local drum circle at the edge of the Sahara Desert. After traveling on camelback against an orange-rayed sunset, we found ourselves among the sand dunes. We parked our camels single file near our camp, and I realized a place that once only existed in my dreams was now before me. I had to close my eyes for a long while. I opened them over and over again until I was sure of it. I had to reach down and let the sand fall between my fingers slowly. I had to breathe in the crisp, evening air. And when I looked up, the stars speckled in the sky like the summer freckles on my face, thousands and thousands of them. When the drum circle began, I let its music fill me up. It started in my toes and moved higher, tickled my fingers and sent goosebumps up my arms and back. The drums vibrated within my chest and when it reached my mouth, I screamed in laughter. My laugh echoed farther and farther across the desert, not meeting any person or town or house until it was miles and miles away. I wrapped my blanket a little tighter and watched my friends dance around the fire to the beat of the drums. Their legs moved up and down as their hands joined the ashes flying through the night air. For many hours, we sat around the fire, told our stories and spoke aloud our dreams. We danced and sang and took turns pounding the drums. We slept under the stars among the silence of the desert for only a few hours until the sun awoke us on the horizon. And moving through the deep sand, the sunrise at our backs, we rode our camels to the bus to escape the desert heat before it swallowed us up whole. 41 COLORS Hannah Schmit If I am a color call me red The color of passion and love Humanity worn on my sleeve The color of my blood, beating heart. Call me red. If I am a season call me fall With baited chilled breath I speak My words on whirlwind breezes fall An omen of changes to come Call me fall. If I am a sound call me silence. The chaos and stillness of calm My words lost yet encompassing In anticipation of something Call me silence If I am a thought call me hope The desire for something more A yearning call deep within me The need to breathe Call me hope. 42 urban delight jazmin crittenden 43 WHEN DAD WORE COLOGNE A. Tetzlaff “Did Grandpa Mike die?” My small voice broke a quiet that Dad and I carry easily between us. A radio frequency connecting our minds that communicates silently, so we don’t have to. Even at the age of three, I knew our sacred, noiseless space well. Dad took me to a park one day, nearby my childhood home. We rarely visited this park unless we intended to use its snowy slope for adrenaline rushes in our bright plastic sleds in the winter time. But it wasn’t wintertime now. My dad wore a blue t-shirt he’d owned since high school. Summer or spring, the season isn’t particularly distinct. The hills rose nakedly as we quietly approached. I’ve come back to the memory time and again; the images are blurred, like a positive photograph that didn’t come out of the darkroom correctly. I can’t recall how my father responded to my question, though I’m sure he patiently and painfully affirmed my query. In that moment I wasn’t shocked. I wasn’t sad. Presently, I regret that I can’t remember a man who loved me and was so dearly loved by others. I don’t know how he looked aside from the pictures I know. How he talked, laughed, 44 yelled, walked, I don’t recall. Did he wear cologne to work like Dad? When I was young, Dad wore cologne to work. He woke up around five in the morning in order to be at work five-thirty, and he still does, despite the fact that no one expects him in the office till eight. I’d hear his alarm from my bed and wait to smell the mix of dewy summer grass and the spicy knives of cologne in my nostrils. The smell lingered and pulled me back to sleep as Dad left the house. On the day at the park, Dad wasn’t wearing cologne. Dad didn’t wear cologne that day because it was either a weekend or he had the day off or had taken time away to grieve. I don’t remember the call to our corded telephone late one night. It was the hospital telling Mom and Dad that my grandfather died of a heart attack while showering. I don’t know if he died immediately or if the attack was slow, painful, cold, and wet. I will never ask. The thought of breaking the stitches grief so tenuously sewed incites trepidation. Was my young face one of his last images? I’m vain enough to assume so––grandparents always think of the grandbabies first. Was it a comfort? I can only hope. At my Grandfather’s funeral, I can’t remember Mom’s grief. I can’t remember the funeral either.She keeps the remnants of her love tended like a flower garden and tells me of her father often. I have nothing but the cemented walkway leading to the park that summer day deep in my mind. Mom tells me that my grandfather lived as long as he did because he was waiting for me. It was a miracle I was even born, but that’s not my story to tell. She calls me “the sparkle in his eye.” Christopher, my younger and only brother, inherited my grandfather’s bright, Anglo-blue irises. He was born the year after my grandfather died. Christopher joined the Army a few weeks ago; my grandfather was a Marine in the 60s. During his service in Asia, my grandfather collected each country’s currency. Grandma keeps the collection in a red leather box in her bedroom closet. I used to step onto a chair and carefully extract the artifact from the top shelf and touch each coin and each bill. Some of those tenders are much extinct now. The souvenirs of my grandfather’s life are far less valuable to me than those of my travels––those, at least, the mugs and the key chains, those have memories attached of the real thing. I’ve spent most of my life scouring photos and objects, trying to resurrect an authentic memory of my grandfather. Trying to find a sensation that brings him back to me like the early morning scent of Dad’s cologne because I only remember the hills and my words and Dad. The solvents of time washed away my grandfather. 45 SHITTY CHRISTMAS TREES AND SECONDHAND DOLLS Elisabeth Beam When I was a kid we didn’t have a lot of money. But we managed to survive. Mom worked a lot at the dingy looking Super 8 Motel just down the street from the elementary school. You know, the kind of motel that charges by the hour instead of night. She hated it but it was close to school and paid just enough. Around November she would start picking up shifts at other hotels in town to save up more money for Christmas. It was hard. The heat bill always went up mid-October when the chill started to set in and the snow began to fall. Presents were always an issue. Getting stuff for just me and Sarah was usually alright, but Mom came from a big family. Six brothers and sisters all of whom had kids. All of whom would be needing presents. That’s a lot of money. Money we just didn’t have. One year there was a huge blizzard and they canceled school for a week. Sarah was only six at the time and she couldn’t be left alone to take care of herself much less a five-year-old as well. So mom had to stay home from work and look after us. She tried to make it seem like she wasn’t stressed out about the money, but I knew she was. She would pace around the kitchen at night and mumble to 46 herself. She’d crouch over her checkbook and shake her head. She tried to hide it from us, but I noticed. I always noticed when she got like that. A week of work missed meant we wouldn’t be able to afford the gas to get to grandma’s house for Christmas. And a week with everyone at home meant that the heat bill was going to be rough. She was too proud to try and get food stamps. So money that would normally go towards presents went to buying our Christmas feast. We didn’t go to my grandma’s house that Christmas but it was probably the best Christmas of my life. The day before school let out our landlord took out all the carpet in the living room. He said it was due to be replaced and that someone would be over before the holiday to put down some new carpet. “Your feet will be so happy and thankful! That’s the best Christmas present you could ask for!” he had happily told us. No one came. The floor was cold and there were nails and sharp staples sticking up at weird angles. It hurt to step on them and small red dots appeared throughout the house as we all made the mistake of stepping in the living room without socks. Mom put down an old ratty green rug, one that our cats liked to pee on. She bought a small fake green tree from the thrift shop downtown. It was the saddest looking tree. Most of the branches were missing so it had random bald spots sporadically around its leaning trunk. A good number of the ornaments that we put on it fell off because it couldn’t support their weight. We made new ones out of paper and glitter. Mom wrapped tinsel she’d taken from work around it and Sarah and I sloppily placed string lights. We put an old family picture at the top of the tree because we were too scared that our expensive Christmas angel would fall and break if we tried to stick her up there. Thinking back on it now it was a pretty shitty looking tree, but back then I thought it was the best thing I’d ever seen in my life. I remember sitting on the floor amongst the nails and staples and looking at it glittering and glistening and thinking that it was a far better tree than anyone else could ever have. I thought that even if we’d spend a million dollars on a tree and all its dressings that it wouldn’t even be able to come close to this masterpiece sitting before me. For Christmas Eve we blasted holiday music and ran around the living room twirling and waving our arms above our heads. Mom had somehow found time to make new flannel pajamas for both me and Sarah and we had immediately put them on. She had also given us each a doll that she’d found at a thrift store. They looked ratty and dirty but I loved them both. Every bit of dust and matted patch of hair was a story waiting to be told. The dolls had character and I loved it.That shitty tree and our thrift store dolls were great but they weren’t what made that night so special. It was that we were all together, making the most out of what we had and not lamenting what we were missing. I think as we grow up we lose the magic in secondhand dolls and shitty Christmas trees. 47 summer nights adam ruff 48 the people united adam ruff 49 after the hike adam ruff 50 CRUMBS Malena Larsen He’s looking for love In the crevices of his couch Like loose change. I saw him lift up the cushions And pull out crumbs His mother’s earring A quarter The spoon he dropped last week After eating ice cream out of the container. It was chocolate cookie dough and he ate the whole thing. I watched him put the quarter in his back pocket and the spoon back in the cushions. I told him I had been in love once And he said I like it when girls call me daddy. I had a dream that night that he was dating somebody and my stomach hurt when I woke up. I became a spoon in the couch cushion Who said words like Daddy And Fuck me And Hard. At the end of every night I was put back with the crumbs, and each day that he came to get me there was more cat hair or lint stuck to me I waited patiently Dirty For him to pick me up. It was 77 degrees the late summer night he stopped getting me from the cushions. He told me that he found somebody to love and we can’t be friends, because if I see you I’ll fuck you. I asked him why he couldn’t control himself if he was in love with somebody. The inside of my ribcage Was being scraped empty 51 Like the chocolate cookie dough ice cream container And my stomach hurt Like it did after the dream Where he wasn’t mine I can’t help it. He told me. I like it when girls call me daddy. When we met he was wearing a suit and it looked like he had spent a lot of time on his hair but I didn’t think he was attractive until the weekend when I was drunk. Across the table On the other side of red cups And puddles of water He stared at me In a grey tank top. His eyes And arms Were strong 52 And dark. Making eye contact felt like sex And he smelled like Fireball And somebody I shouldn’t be alone with And too much cologne. We went swimming at 6 am at the neighbor’s lakefront when everyone else fell asleep. He took off his shirt I kept mine on. The water fell off of him like it didn’t want to keep his body covered for too long. He picked me up and folded me over his right shoulder and threw me into the 6 am summer sweet lake water. He drove me home At 7 am Still drunk and Smitten. It was 88 degrees and my birthday the night I let him kiss me in the back hallway of our friend’s frat. I couldn’t wait anymore He told me In the house that smelled like Liquor and dust And damp wood. The first time we Fucked Was in the front seat of his White Pontiac Grand prix At 11 pm on a Tuesday. I saw him almost As an animal. His fists Were clenched And his eyebrows Like shelves Over his beetle eyes. Do you like fucking daddy? After that night I had to sneak him into my bedroom because he couldn’t do all of the positions he wanted to in his car. He needed to prove to me that he was the best fuck and that he could make me cum and that I should call him Daddy. I had never called fucking, fucking before. Before I was a dirty spoon it had only been called love. His eyes started to remind me Of Tiny Round Black beetles. There’s nobody else anymore We should just keep fucking. And when we fucked It was 66 degrees and almost fall when he came to my house in his white Pontiac Grand Prix and told me I remembered then, the quarter he put in his pants and how he used me to eat his ice cream and then put me back with all the crumbs in the cushions of 53 his couch Where he keeps looking for love Like it’s the loose change In his back pocket. 54 bloomed audrey campbell 55 pruned audrey campbell 56 HERMAN Danny Polaschek Grape juice dribbled down Herman’s chin and landed in scattered droplets down the front of his white T-shirt. He didn’t notice and, after setting down his half-emptied glass, picked up his spoon and started on his bowl of bran flakes. Sitting at the kitchen table, there was nothing in front of Herman —but a bare white wall. It seemed, however, that he wasn’t looking at it, but rather through it like a child looks through a window and, seeing nothing but gray skies and rain, is overwhelmed by disappointment because they will not be outdoors playing that day. As Herman sat there facing the white wall and chomping his cereal, his son entered the kitchen and began his morning ritual. Herman heard the coffee-maker start bubbling from somewhere behind him in the kitchen along with the quick and efficient pitter-pattering of his son’s feet, who Herman assumed had to be walking laps around the center island as some sort of new, trendy morning workout. Once the coffee maker’s burbling came to an end the footsteps stopped as well. Herman focused on the sound of the coffee being poured, the soft sound of liquid filling a ceramic mug. The sound stopped as quickly as it had started and Herman was further drawn from his relaxed, monotonous state by the sound of his son’s voice. “How are the flakes this morning, Dad?” Herman didn’t turn around to face his son, but continued with what he was doing, looking like a cow chewing cud. “Five star quality,” he replied in between spoonfuls. “Flaky as ever.” Herman’s son chuckled a bit and looked up from his fresh cup of coffee but the laugh died away when he noticed that his father was still turned away from him, eyes glued straight ahead. Taking another sip, Herman’s son pondered whether he would keep pursuing his father in conversation or not. He ultimately decided against it and left the kitchen, coffee mug in hand. A sigh escaped Herman’s throat as he set down his spoon, finished with his mushed and soggy cereal. Ain’t this the life, he thought to himself sarcastically. Finally turning away from the wall, Herman scooted himself back from the kitchen table and slowly stood up. He gripped the side of the table for balance and took a few deep breaths in an effort to steady himself. Just a few weeks before, Herman had 57 missed a stair descending to the basement and found himself tumbling clumsily down the rest of the way until crashing to a stop on the last few steps. Herman’s head still felt a bit shaky from time to time, which caused a bit of a tremble in his legs. Instead of walking from place to place, he grew accustomed to maneuvering his way to each destination by leaning on and grabbing anything he could for support and then flinging himself to another sturdy checkpoint, and so on and so forth until he reached his goal. It was much like a monkey swinging from vine to vine, but less precise and much less graceful. With his feet finally under him, legs steady, Herman pushed away from the kitchen table and launched himself to the kitchen counter, which caught him with cold indifference. Hunched over, Herman caught his breath for a few seconds before beginning to shuffle down the length of the marble counter towards the coffeemaker at the other end. “This better be a damn good cup of Joe,” he mumbled to himself, clearly exhausted. Halfway down the counter, Herman stopped. With a steady grip on the counter he reached up to the cupboard above his head and swung it open. He couldn’t see inside but he knew that what he was looking for was in there: his old blue coffee mug— one of the only things worth bringing with when he moved into his son’s house the year before. Feeling around the smooth, wooden interior, Herman eventually got a hold of his mug which distinguished itself by having only half of a handle still attached. With the partial handle hooked onto his ring and middle fingers, Herman pulled out his mug and brought it shakily down over his head, setting it on the counter with a soft “clink.” Herman was beginning to feel dizzy at this 58 point, and wished for a moment that he had listened to the doctor about getting a walker. “Mr. Huckley,” the doctor said, “even if you don’t think you’ll use it, take it anyways. Just in case.” Herman didn’t take the walker, and wouldn’t even let anyone help to walk him out of the hospital, not even his son. “I don’t need your damn help,” he snorted each time someone tried to take his arm to steady him. He was always a stubborn man and old age wasn’t going to change that. Continuing down the counter, Herman felt this same stubborn anger boiling in him. He was almost seventy years old and yet he felt like a child who was just learning to walk. He’d built his own home, and a garage to go with it, and now he could hardly make it to the opposite end of the room without feeling fatigued. Sweat was running hot from Herman’s forehead. He wiped it with a shaky hand and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. He only had five or so more steps to go and he braced himself for the final stretch, determined to get there even if it killed him. With a focused balance and patient, shuffling steps Herman managed to get to the end of the counter and the coffee pot. He exhaled in relief, and a satisfied smile tugged the corners of his mouth up ever so slightly. With his blue mug in one hand, Herman picked up the coffeepot in the other, intent on pouring himself a well-deserved cup of coffee after his tiresome journey. His satisfaction was immediately replaced with bitterness as he lifted the pot and felt that it was nearly empty, only a few drops remained rolling around in the bottom. Herman’s minute smile had vanished and his brow hardened, scrunching up his forehead in small, tense knots. Setting the pot back on the counter, Herman hissed repeatedly under his breath, cursing his son for not leaving him any coffee. Herman’s hands were visibly trembling and he was having a difficult time keeping a grip on the edge of the counter. He contemplated making more coffee but dismissed the idea immediately, knowing that he could not remain standing and moving around the kitchen much longer. Herman felt a hot flush come over his face and could feel beads of sweat rolling down his temples and his cheeks. In one swift motion he wound up and threw his coffee mug across the room, where it shattered against the windowless, white wall. Slivers and shards of ceramic bounced all over the kitchen, the blue pieces scattered like shattered glass. Herman heard footsteps drumming down the staircase before his son entered the room,stopping in the doorway to avoid stepping on any of the pieces of blue ceramic. “Dad!” he exclaimed, “What happened? Herman was bent over, hunched with his hands on his knees. He was struggling for breath now, and sweat soaked through his shirt on his back. In between wheezes, Herman said exasperated, “You didn’t leave me any damn coffee, you son of a bitch.” His son stood there eyeing first his father and then the indent in the wall where the mug had hit. He shook his head in disbelief, which quickly turned to anger. With a clenched jaw, he left the room and returned a minute later with broom in hand. He began quietly sweeping the blue bits of coffee mug into a dustpan. After Herman had caught his breath and recomposed himself, he pulled his body back into a standing position, leaning against the counter. He glanced to his son, bent over and sweeping under the kitchen table. “I heard you on the phone last night,” he said. Herman kept his eyes on his son as he stood and turned to face him. His son raised an eyebrow at him but gave no verbal reply. “I heard you,” Herman repeated. His son bit his lip and continued sweeping, eyes trained on the floor. “It’s just not working, dad.” 59 EL BARRIO SUYO Chad Berryman El viento le envolvió al hombre como una manta de hielo. Él andaba por el barrio suyo pero los vecinos no lo saludaron. Caminaba delante de una casa grande con flores y grandes ventanas, y por esas ventanas podía oír una pelea entre dos padres y los lamentos penosos de sus hijos. Él seguía la acera que serpenteaba por un parque lindo donde había un banco solitario. Él Lo saludó con la cabeza. Recordaba unas noches del verano cuando este banco no había ofrecido insultos ni acusaciones, sino un lugar simpático para descansar mientras él le regalaba un uso admirable. Pero en el invierno el banco se congelaba como él, y ambos eran incapaces de ayudarse el uno al otro. Paseaba delante de una casa blanca de arquitectura maravillosa. Un coche altanero llegara la entrada. Un padre sincero apareció mientras acababa de contar los acontecimientos de su día. Su hija miraba su celular, y el silencio suspiró por la expresión herida de la cara del padre. Ellos entraron a la casa sin otra palabra. El hombre nómada seguía caminando, y pronto la nieve dentro de sus venas se derretía por una balada antigua que se tarareaba al ritmo de sus pasos. 60 No pido mucho, no vivo de prisa canto los himnos con risa bendita no tengo nada salvo alma amada y sin despedida no hay la llegada THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD Chad Berryman The frigid air wrapped around the man like a blanket of ice. He was travelling through his own neighborhood, but no neighbors acknowledged him. As he walked in front of a large, picturesque house, complete with flowers and giant windows, he could make out the sound of two parents fighting accompanied by the upsetting cries of their children. The sidewalk snaked its way through a park in which there stood one solitary bench. With a nod of his head, the man greeted it. Nights of summers past filled his mind, nights in which the bench had not offered insults or accusations but rather a consoling place of rest while he presented it with the gift of an honorable purpose. However, the bench froze and shivered in the winter the same as he, and neither could provide the other with any relief. He passed by a white house of grand construction. There, a flashy car had just pulled into the driveway. From it emerged an earnest father finishing the recounting of his day. His daughter, however, simply stared at her phone, and the wounded expression on her father’s face betrayed an unsung sigh. The two entered the house without another word. As the wandering man continued walking, the snow in his veins began to melt due to an old tune he commenced to hum in time with his steps. I don’t ask for much, or live in a rush in my blessed laughter the hymns come alive there’s nothing I own save a soul that is loved for without a farewell one could never arrive 61 ODYSSEY Eve Taft Thank you for the twisted pathways of your mind Which led to the streets and alleyways of Dublin James Joyce, do you understand that you opened floodgates? Your avalanche of babbling sentences, sans punctuation Buck Mulligan tossing form and style into the wind Your catechism, you, Daedalus, gave us sacrament Blood flow to wake up the numb limbs of literature You spoke with your soul to our souls Fearing not the noise in your skull but flinging it down in ink I understand you, “life is many days” I understand you, “god is a shout in the street” I understand you, “I am another now and yet the same” You understand me “everything speaks in its own way” Soon I’ll visit your beloved homeland Walking the streets of Dublin, writing and giving thanks to modernism Now as free of rigid form As Ireland of England 62 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 63 postcards from my bedroom audrey campbell 64 COUNTING SHEEP Danny Polaschek What can you do when the world is asleep? Go to sleep too? I’ve counted all my sheep. They jumped through the air gliding for 5 or 6 feet cleared the fence and then flew with not even a bleat. I didn’t focus however on these aerial sheep antics because far away in the distance was a sight oh so fantastic. A blue house, with a single light on in the window sat a girl a beauty no pencil could ever have drawn. I looked up at her and she down at me addicted to the eyesight too distracted to count sheep. 65 3 sky nights keeyonna fox 67 inner self keeyonna fox 68 VICTORY OF THE PEOPLE Petra S. Shaffer-Gottschalk Your worship was my refuge, your clay heart my focal point, your chelsea smile the apple of my eye. We were sick. We poisoned ourselves with amphetamines and pills until we didn’t recognize ourselves in the mirror. We walked miles just to feel accomplished in our space, we turned the cigarettes we shared into sentiments we thought we shared. I must possess the wrong innocence. Souls are fickle things that change when left to die in the cold. ~ He was outrageously tall. He towered over me like the Statue of Liberty and he talked to me as though I was a boat in the harbor. Standing five inches taller than six feet, he was an image of Ukrainian beauty. He stood like someone who knew things you didn’t know and this fascinated me. I was so naive, so optimistic. I saw the lust and want in his eyes and I mistook it for passion.The curve of his jaw and his long eyelashes crept into the screens behind my eyelids and ignited a fire in me that I didn’t know how to put out. I was the new girl in town struggling to keep my loneliness at bay. He was a gleaming light in that summer of darkness. I had just moved to Minnesota months before. After discovering drugs and promiscuous sex I became nothing short of a hurricane. Amphetamines kept me awake, cigarettes kept me skinny, and weed kept me sane. My GPA reflected exactly what they don’t tell you about functional depression: you can feel like a blank page, but as long as you fill it with words people will stop asking questions. He was selling me drugs. He offered me a good price. I had never met him but I figured what the hell, I could stand to meet new people. It was dark, long past sundown. We were meeting in a parking lot by a lake a few blocks away from my house. I was in my mom’s car. I waited and listened to Amy Winehouse until I saw an orange car pull into a parking spot a few yards away from me. The man driving fit the picture I had seen of him before. We 69 made eye contact and he ushered me over to his car. I took a deep breath, grabbed my sweater, and got my money ready. He rolled down the passenger side window. “You Nikita?” I said. He smiled at me. A smile that I would come to know. “You can call me Kita.” ~ He had really good drugs. I’m not sure that they were pure, but at the time I didn’t care. Neither did he. We just wanted to get high. We did his drugs together, sitting in a playground by the lake, talking about life and what we crave. He told me that he was applying to a college in London. I didn’t think anything of it. Before long we saw each other every day. He was a lifeguard who had to be on duty early in the morning, so he would take me out for coffee at eight in the morning. No makeup, sweatpants, my hair in a messy bun. He didn’t care. We would talk about things that we hadn’t shared with anyone else. He told me he struggled with his relationship with his father in Ukraine. I told him that I had struggled with eating disorders since I was thirteen. We would sneak out onto his back porch to smoke cigarettes late at night. His mother hated that we smoked. 70 “You need to quit smoking, love,” she’d tell me. “I smoked for twenty-five years and it took two pregnancies to get me to stop.” His mother loved me. She thought that I was spunky, independent, had a mind of my own. She did not like his last girlfriend. She made that very clear. She, like Nikita, was very tall. She had long curly black hair and eyes so intense that you would lose your appetite. Her Russian accent was thick and powerful. She had run away to the United States when she was twenty-one and seven months pregnant with her first son. Nikita. “Does it mean anything?” I asked him. “Your name.” He smiled when he answered. “My mom told me it means ‘victory of the people,’” he said. Oh Kita, you have no victory. You are the secret I keep from my mother the hidden disease that projectile vomits and digs with fingernails sharpened by teeth. Your fields of sunflowers told me a secret, your secrets so dark and beautiful and I killed myself with your gargantuan sunflowers. His mother was beautiful. She had been a professional figure skater that traveled the world, meeting people as she went. She met Kita’s father in her home country of Ukraine and according to the story, he was immediately drawn to her exuberant personality and her long legs. At twenty-one she was well on her way to continue pursuing a successful skating career until she got pregnant. According to Kita his father did not accompany her to her appointments.He did not send her flowers. He did not ask if she was okay. Instead Kita’s mother made her way to America to create a life of victory and hope. He took me to meet his grandmother. She said hello and came in and that was the last that I understood. The entire time I was there she would ask me questions in Russian and Kita would translate for me. He taught me how to say Hello (Privet) Yes (da) No (net) And thank you, which I don’t remember. We spent almost the entire time we were there trying to help his grandmother set up a new movie streaming program on her computer. I know nothing about computers in English, let alone in Russian. I was overwhelmed. The leather furniture just made my nervous sweat more noticeable. She told me about Ukraine a little bit. She said it was beautiful but troubled. She offered me chocolate and cookies. I sat, sweating, trying my hardest to pay attention. When I said anything to her, Kita would translate for me. I wanted to leave. After we left his grandmother’s house he told me to wait in his car while he talked privately with his grandmother. I thought it was strange but didn’t question it. I played mindless games on my phone while I waited for him. Some part of me knew that they were talking about me, but I continued to deny it. I was hungry, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything about it too soon. I was hungry often then. When he returned to the car I asked what they had talked about and with no hesitation he said, “You.” I paused, then asked him to elaborate. “She likes you,” he said. And that was that. How strange, I thought, to be liked by someone who never explicitly spoke a word to me. ~ Andrevich was Kita’s middle name. Named after his father. Kita’s father was very handsome. In his forties with tan skin and thick hair, he was a heartthrob that would make you look twice. He lived in a nice, expensive apartment in Kiev with his girlfriend who was twenty years younger than him. Apparently that was a theme. Kita had only seen his father a handful of times in his life. He had gone back to Ukraine to spend some time with him as a young boy, but didn’t have too much recollection of it. When he was sixteen he went back to live with his father and his twenty-yearold girlfriend for a while. Kita has always been tall, thin, and handsome. His father noticed this. “So what happened?” I asked him one day. 71 Kita shrugged. “He kicked me out and I came back to the states,” he said without a flinch. He said this as though it was a commonality. “He thought that I fucked his girlfriend,” he said as he lit a cigarette. There was a very long, uncomfortable silence. “Did you?” I asked. He laughed out loud and a cloud of smoke poured out of his mouth. “No, of course not,” he said. “My dad isn’t one to listen to a sixteen year old.” ~ “I’ll take you to Ukraine someday.” “Sunflowers. There are parts of Ukraine where there are endless fields of sunflowers wherever you look. They’re as tall as me and the flowers are bigger than my face.” He pulled me closer as he talked about Ukraine. He insisted that I learn all that I could about the Russia-Ukraine conflict, sending me innumerable articles daily. Through him I learned about the importance of the Ukrainian revolution and fights that had been fought, some as recent as 2011 and 2012. He told me that he wanted to fight for his people if he had to. When my eyes were flushed with concern, he pulled me in close and whispered in my ear, “I’ll survive for you.” His eyes lit up every time he talked about the fields of sunflowers in Ukraine. In the same way, his eyes lit up every time he got angry. Your golden eyes drew miners to starve and fight to abandon their homes. We were in his bed, naked, wrapped up in blankets and speckled by the corner light in his room. It was late, the kind of late that feels early. The air conditioner hummed in the place of our phones which were both off and hidden somewhere in the room. He did no wrong. He could not do any wrong. His eyes were blank but telling like a wall in a foreclosed home. All of his intentions were good. Yes. Good. “Where in Ukraine?” I asked. “Have you been eating?” he asks as he lifts up my shirt. “Kiev, the city squares. And to the huge fields of flowers.” “What kind of flowers?” 72 ~ I squirm away and pull my shirt down. “Yes, I ate just before I came here,” I say. I can still taste the salt in my mouth. “You look skinny,” he tells me with a hint of disdain in his voice. My heart soars. I look skinny. But he’s reaching for my stomach again and once again I’m backing away. We get into the car and drive to the gas station. I say that I need to go use the restroom. While Kita pumps the gas, I make my way into the small Holiday bathroom. I put my sweater on the ground and rest my knees on it, my usual routine. I stick my finger down my throat and vomit into the toilet. As I walk back outside, Kita is getting back into his car. I get in the front seat and sniffle slightly.Kita looks at me quizzically. “You okay?” he asks me. My eyes are watery, my nose is burning, and my breath is putrid. “I’m fine,” I say with a smile. ~ The elevator door was so cold against my cheek. I watched the red numbers blink as they rose. 8...9...10...11. My vision was going fuzzy and grey, my ears started ringing and throbbing. 11...12...13. Ding. The doors opened and my wobbly legs carried me down the seemingly endless hallway. My hands were barely working; as I watched them push my key into my apartment door I could not feel it. The door opened, I could see my living room window. I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the ground. “Why did you faint?” His words echoed behind the screen of my phone. “I just haven’t eaten a lot today.” There was a silence so deafening that it struck fear in my heart. Fear I had not known. “When did you eat last?” He had anger in his voice. I paused. He would know if I lied but he would hate the truth. “I had a little dinner last night,” I said quietly. “What did you eat?” His reply was sharp. I was shaking. “I had a little bit of salad I think,” I said with a quivering voice. I could hear his sigh. I can still hear his sigh. “How many times have we talked about this?” He exclaimed. “I know, I know, I’m sorry…” It didn’t matter. He didn’t listen. I had failed him again. “Do you know what it’s like to have a girlfriend that can’t even take care of herself ?” “What am I going to tell my friends?” “You’re not even trying.” I was sobbing, I was convulsing, I was sweating, all from my bed from which I could not move. My phone was glued to my ear and I had no energy to remove it. “So what are you going to do about this?” There was intense spite in his words. With a shaky voice I said, “I could send you a picture of everything I eat?” He laughed. With his full, angry throat he laughed 73 at my pain. “And do what? Post it on Facebook? Show all my friends that my girlfriend is an anorexic who can’t even feed herself ? You know what, go ahead. Maybe that’ll help you change.” I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to die. My stomach kept whispering “never again, never again, never again.” Opening my mouth made me panic because it reminded me of eating. I hung up my phone and with wobbly legs I walked outside in the snow and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes. ~ Months go by. Months. I watched him pack his bag with clothes that I had never seen him wear. He packed light, only a few shirts and two pairs of pants. “My dad will buy me more when I get to Ukraine,” he said. I sat on the edge of his bed and watched him focus on folding his clothes. His visa sat in the center of the bed, staring at me. I started to cry. “Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Kita said without breaking focus. I watched him form a pile of the shirts that I had grown used to him wearing. They looked like wilted flower petals. 74 “Why aren’t you taking those?” I asked, pointing to the wilted pile. “My father won’t like them,” he said. Later that night, we were drinking red wine in his bed. His room was bare and cold. I was curled against his side, my head on his chest. He stroked my bare back and played with my hair. I sighed, but not the kind of sigh that’s followed with kisses. Kita sighed too. “Petra,” he said, a tone of exasperation in his voice. “If I ever treat you like my father treats women, please leave me.” ~ I still remember how to say “I love you” in Russian. “я люблю тебя.” Ya lyublyu tebya. ~ My fingers were bones. Anything beyond mascara was too much, especially lipstick. He hated lipstick. He thought that it brought too much attention to my mouth. He didn’t like when other people noticed me. He stopped smoking cigarettes and instructed me to do so too. “They’ll make you age faster,”he would say. If I had a bad day and smoked a cigarette, he would tell me he was disappointed. I lived with three men at the time, something that Kita would never let me forget. He asked every few days to be sure I wasn’t sleeping with any of my roommates. If I was spending too much time with a friend, he would tell me that I was neglecting him. He sent me articles outlining how to be a better partner. He reminded me that he just wanted me to be the best that I could be. The screaming and hour-long phone calls were footnotes. You stripped me of my dignity and told me, “This is what you have.” Your monstrous arms crawl into my nightmares Your titanic stature collided with my glacier and though you claim I sank you You were a behemoth and I was a stone. At the end, I fell into the ground. His screams surrounded me in my echo chamber and suffocated me. My knees were bruised from kneeling in front of the toilet all night. How apt for the one accused of dropping to her knees for all men. I was free but I did not know it yet. All I knew was the cold floor of my bathroom and the tales of beautiful but troubled Ukraine. My goodbyes have been said, These addictions fed. It’s the cost that comes with the sickness. And your screams won’t be heeded anymore. 75 AN OPEN LETTER TO THE UN-SPECIALS Halle Chambers When we are little, even before we can speak We are told that we’re special and that we’re unique. That we all are made different and that none are the same Which fits quite nicely in a toddler’s mind frame. And we are told we should treasure what’s different inside, That what makes us different is not something to hide. But then quite soon after, things start to change; The word “different” stops meaning “special” and starts meaning “strange.” We’re sectioned off from our average peers In our own little category and told, “you belong here,” And then different is bad and normal is good, And for the different ones, nothing is working the way that it should The way we’ve been taught or the way we’ve been shown All we know is that we do not like being lost on our own. 76 So once again we are taken away To a place where things makes sense again and we’re ok: Where no one hurts us, Where no one can see, Where no one deserts us, Where we can be free. But because the un-specials can’t see what goes on, They decide to make things up and get so much wrong. And it’s happened for years because they can’t see through that door. So long they don’t even know that it’s wrong anymore. It’s so fixed in their heads that these lies are right; They judge each special kid by their stereotype. But today that will end. So you sit there and you wait, cause it’s about time someone set the dang record straight. You probably think that this poem won’t cut it, But today I’m gonna open the door and don’t you dare shut it! To start, let’s be clear: I am...I was in Special Ed. But just because I was in that room doesn’t mean I’m brain dead! So for Pete’s sake, don’t puppy dog guard me! Just give me a break, it isn’t that hard see: If I need your help, I will tell you I do. Just please, Please don’t mock me. In my place, would you want me to mock you? “Oh come on! Let her get it! Go easy on her!” Help, where not needed, is almost as bad as a slur. I’m not invalid So don’t play that card. Yeah, I’m a little quirky and oversensitive, But I’m not, and I quote, “A little retard.” Yeah, I’ve been called names. And those words? They hurt. They catch in the center, In your pit of self worth. And they tear and they rip, And those words are collective. Soon you start to believe that you are defective. I’ve dealt with them all, and surprisingly, I actually prefer the straight up bullies To those who pretend to like me. Fake friends and two-faces Of all genders and races. They’re only my friends so they don’t have to see me cry. Or they use me, abuse me, Oh, how they confuse me! Cause I can’t tell what’s truth and what’s lie. “Hey! He likes you. Go give him a kiss!” And because I don’t know better, I believe this. But soon I find they’re not playing Cupid, They just wanna make me look stupid. For their entertainment, they make me play the 77 fool; They pretend that they care for me When they’re really just cruel. It takes time and takes work to make you forget; Even now, I’m not quite there yet. I mean, here I am, in what’s supposed to be home, And yet here I am, still feeling alone. I’m still paranoid, it doesn’t just end; I still have to ask if someone’s my friend. I say one thing and mean another; I make a mistake, But you take it verbatim. Can’t you cut me a break? If we’re talking and I look like I’m lost, Don’t blow it off like it’s not worth the cost. Sarcasm and subtlety muddle in my brain, So please just take a minute to explain. Do these quirks make me broken? Is there something wrong with me? The way society has spoken, There would seem to be. 78 Stop poisoning the minds of “different” young women and men. I don’t like being defective.... Can I be special again? SOREX PALUSTRIS Emilie Tomas Did they name you for Your wit, pointed Nose of pointed judgement Who brought us fire; five to seven inches of shrewd truth? Or was it your mischief That Inspired them? Your Presence followed by screams And a three inch tail. I saw your likeness on a stage, Dirt in place of your midnight coat Though she is reformed now. Perhaps it was the gleam in your Eyes; whispered fortunes and A summer of silver birth. Maybe you are a messenger Of God, somehow in your Eighteen months you learned to walk On water, the second coming Of Christ. 79 woodsy adam ruff gabriel bergstrom 80 WORDS Malena Larsen The bathroom wall was covered in words. Words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. His body looked peaceful, somehow, as he sat propped and slumped against the door. His head hung to his right shoulder and his mouth was open like he was about to say something but was interrupted. There was blood running down his left arm like a river and a needle hung loosely out of his skin. The words that he had heard her say several hours earlier were getting quieter and quieter. “It’s not working,” she had told him. “I’m sorry.” They were smoking cigarettes outside her apartment when she said it. She knew he had been trying to fix himself. After twenty-eight days of treatment and one week in a sober house on Lake and Fifth she barely recognized him. He was twenty-five pounds heavier and his skin looked clean and strong; there was no more grey in his cheeks. It wasn’t just his change in appearance that scared her. Lately, he had been telling her the difference between wrong and right and that she should stay in on the weekends. His family couldn’t stop talking about how proud they were of him and they would ask her, “Doesn’t he just seem so much better?” She would answer with yes but feel guilty because she wished he still liked to make mistakes. His family had a party after he got out of treatment and his grandfather kept saying things like, “Men in this family have always been strong!” and, “Now he can take care of you.” His grandfather didn’t care for her much but he felt that she was the least of the boy’s problems. He didn’t like the way she hung on him like a scarf or the way she agreed with everything he said without a second thought. As he sat on the bathroom floor the words she had said were getting quieter and quieter. They were almost gone. He had been sober for thirty-five days and he didn’t know why. He didn’t feel better or stronger or more loved. His hand lay loosely on the floor, palm up and open like he was waiting for somebody to hold it. Everyone was so proud of him but he couldn’t imagine living his life without her. Long after her words had faded completely, the bathroom door opened. He fell back onto the floor. His head hitting hard against the tile. 81 “Oh my gosh!” The man who opened the door yelled. “Can someone help?” He took out his phone to call 911. A crowd of people rushed over to where the man was dialing. A young man pushed past the group of people. “Move!” The boy got on his knees by the body on the floor. He reached into his pocket and took out something that looked like a pen. He stuck it into the arm of the body that was needle free. People gasped and murmured and watched. Sirens rang in the distance. The boy holding the pen looked up at the bathroom wall that had words like fuck and love and song lyrics and names with hearts around them. He looked up at the group of people. “It’s not working,” he said. 82 MALCOLM AND THE BLUE SIDE Danny Polaschek Brown leaves dragged past Malcolm’s feet in the wind. The bench underneath him felt like a rock and he had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering. He stared at the empty playground—the tire swing, the slide, the bridge and the fireman’s pole. Nikki rested her head on his shoulder. Each time a breeze swept through, Malcolm could feel her nuzzle slightly closer, her hair scratching and tickling his neck. When he was a kid, Malcolm had sat on this exact same bench many times with his mother. They lived in a little blue house just a few blocks away— “just a hop and a skip,” his mother would say and Malcolm would make it his mission to jump and bunny-hop the whole way there. When they arrived, they’d eat lunch, sitting together on the narrow, wooden bench. After each bite of his sandwich, Malcolm would beg his mother to let him go play, to which she would give in once she herself had
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Title: Augsburg Now Fall 2015: Scholarship In Action
Collection: Alumni Magazine Collection
Search Result: Sideline support Beyond fjords and freeways Boom or bust Homecoming 2015 SCHOLARSHIP IN ACTION FALL 2015 | VOL. 78, NO. 1 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of News and Media Services Stephanie Weiss weis...
Show more Sideline support Beyond fjords and freeways Boom or bust Homecoming 2015 SCHOLARSHIP IN ACTION FALL 2015 | VOL. 78, NO. 1 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of News and Media Services Stephanie Weiss weisss@augsburg.edu NOTES FROM PRESIDENT PRIBBENOW On being faculty-guided In recent issues of Augsburg Now (apparently still the name of this fine publication—see page 7!), I’ve written about our Augsburg2019 vision to be “a new kind of student-centered urban university, small to our students and big for the world.” I’ve also turned cultural myths on their heads, arguing that colleges should be student-ready and not the other way around. As compelling as our vision is, the studentcentered and student-ready Augsburg still has at its heart a distinguished and dedicated faculty whose commitment to our students and their education is as it always has been—unparalleled, hard-working, and full of imagination and resolve. In other words, as we aspire to be studentcentered, we will always be faculty-guided. In all of my travels to visit alumni on behalf of Augsburg, the conversation inevitably turns to the faculty member who asked the right question, introduced a new way of thinking, became a mentor, stayed in touch, changed my life. The values and commitments of the legends of Augsburg’s faculty—Christensen, Chrislock, Torstenson, Quanbeck, Peterson, Nelson, Colacci, Sateren, Mitchell, Hesser, Shackelford, Gus, Gabe—are now alive in the Augsburg faculty of the 21st century. And some of their stories are in the pages that follow. Stories of creative and groundbreaking teaching, such as the work of Associate Professor of Political Science Joe Underhill, whose 15-year dream to spend a semester with students on the Mississippi River is now a reality with this fall’s “River Semester.” Imagine a dozen students, two faculty members, and a river guide or two traveling almost 1,800 miles from St. Paul to New Orleans in canoes, engaging the biology and politics of the Mississippi River over three and a half months. Makes you want to go back to college! Stories of relevant and timely research, such as the project undertaken by Associate Professor of Sociology Tim Pippert to explore the impact of the oil boom in North Dakota, seeking to understand the various social implications for the communities at the center of the dramatic change. It’s the Gold Rush all over again, but with 21st century challenges to the well-being of individuals and communities. Stories of faithful service, which has been recognized by President Obama in naming Augsburg one of five finalists (for the second year in a row) for the President’s Award for Interfaith Dialogue and Service. Our robust interfaith work with students and our neighbors is led by faculty members Martha Stortz and Matt Maruggi from the Religion Department, along with College Pastor Sonja Hagander and Distinguished Fellow Mark Hanson ’68. And don’t miss the fun interview with Nancy Fischer, associate professor of sociology and urban studies, who ties her research about secondhand clothes to serving the needs of our neighbors. For almost 150 years, it has been Augsburg’s faculty who have guided our work as a college and whose wisdom and experience have equipped our students to change the world. May it always be so. Faithfully yours, Director of Marketing Communication Stephen Jendraszak jendra@augsburg.edu Communication Copywriter and Editorial Coordinator Laura Swanson ’15 MBA swansonl@augsburg.edu Creative Associate Denielle Johnson ’11 johnsod@augsburg.edu Marketing Copywriter Christina Haller haller@augsburg.edu Production Manager Mark Chamberlain chamberm@augsburg.edu Photographer Stephen Geffre geffre@augsburg.edu Advancement Communication Specialist Jen Lowman Day dayj@augsburg.edu Contributor Kate H. Elliott augsburg.edu Augsburg Now is published by Augsburg College 2211 Riverside Ave. Minneapolis, MN 55454 Opinions expressed in Augsburg Now do not necessarily reflect official College policy. ISSN 1058-1545 PAUL C. PRIBBENOW, PRESIDENT Send address corrections to: langemo@augsburg.edu. Email: now@augsburg.edu AUGSBURG NOW Fall 2015 02 Around the quad 08 Annual report to donors 10 Uncorking the mysteries of wine 13 Sideline support 18 Beyond fjords and freeways 20 Boom or bust 26 Homecoming 2015 28 Auggies connect 32 Class notes 40 In memoriam 26 Andrew Held ’05 celebrates his 10-year class reunion and totes his daughter, Mabel, through the Taste of Augsburg at Homecoming 2015. Learn more about Homecoming events and honorees on pages 26 and 32. On the cover: A pump jack extracts oil from the Bakken shale formation that lies miles below a field of grain outside Williston, North Dakota. Learn about the state’s new oil landscape: pages 20-25. Correction: In the Summer 2015 issue of Augsburg Now, U.S. Rep. Keith Ellison of Minnesota mistakenly was identified as a U.S. senator in the article “Making their mark,” which described a research experience that drew a student-faculty duo to East Africa and Capitol Hill. All photos by Stephen Geffre unless otherwise indicated. A scene from the River Semester launch event held September 1. AUGGIES MAKE A SPLASH WITH HANDS-ON LEARNING The first-ever Augsburg College River Semester—a three-and-a-half month program in which a dozen students as well as faculty members will travel almost 2,000 miles of the 2,350-mile Mississippi River from St. Paul to New Orleans while studying the arts, humanities, and sciences—departed from St. Paul’s Harriet Island on September 1. As part of the kickoff, the River Semester class, created and led by Associate Professor of Political Science Joe Underhill, was joined by a group of nearly “This is my ideal form of higher education. 100 community members It’s experiential, engaged with the community, who paddled in canoes interdisciplinary, physical, and mental.” from St. Paul to South St. —Joe Underhill, lead River Semester professor Paul. Many media outlets Winona Daily News, September 15 covered the launch, and Minnesota Gov. Mark Dayton proclaimed September 1 Follow the crew on their journey at augsburg.edu/river/blog. “Augsburg College River Semester Day.” 2 Augsburg Now AUGGIE PLAN OFFERS PATHWAY to four-year degree This past spring, officials from Augsburg College and Minneapolis Community and Technical College launched the Auggie Plan, an efficient and affordable track to a four-year degree for students whose academic achievement at MCTC prepares them for upper-level coursework at Augsburg. This partnership was a natural fit for the colleges as both are located in the heart of Minneapolis, provide student support services, value intentional diversity, and are committed to developing future leaders. COLLEGE AWARDS 2015 Augsburg College is nationally recognized for its commitment to intentional diversity in its life and work. This year’s accolades include: • The 2015 Higher Education Excellence in Diversity Award from INSIGHT Into Diversity magazine for the College’s commitment to intentional diversity and student engagement and activism. Augsburg College physician assistant students gather outside their new classrooms in Northwestern Hall at Luther Seminary. PHYSICIAN ASSISTANT PROGRAM relocates to Luther Seminary campus Augsburg College’s Master of Science in Physician Assistant Studies program recently relocated to a leased space on the Luther Seminary campus in St. Paul. The new location provides improved educational and office space for the program and makes room on Augsburg’s main campus for other groups whose current space doesn’t fully support their needs. The agreement with Luther Seminary models the type of collaborative partnership that Augsburg, as a new kind of urban university, seeks. Augsburg’s signature PA program will have effective space to remain competitive, and Luther Seminary will be able to better optimize the use of its own facilities. In addition, since Luther Seminary primarily serves graduate-level students, the Augsburg PA program aligns with the campus’s commitment to graduate academic achievement and contributes to its vibrant higher education experience. • Placing No. 6 on the UCLA Higher Education Research Institute’s 2015 Rankings of the Best Christian Colleges and Universities published based on academic reputation, financial aid offerings, overall cost, and success of graduates in the job market. • The American Indian Science and Engineering Society’s Winds of Change magazine’s Top 200 Schools for Native Americans—the second time since 2013 Augsburg earned this recognition for its American Indian support community and graduation rates. • Ranking No. 5 on College Magazine’s Most Transgender-Friendly College list for working to make campus welcoming for transgender students and offering comfort, safety, and freedom to all students. • Recognition as one of five U.S. finalists for the 2015 President’s Higher Education Community Service Honor Roll with Distinction in interfaith and community service—the only institution named a finalist in both 2014 and 2015. • Being named a 2016 Military Friendly® School for extraordinary work in providing transitioning veterans the best possible experience in higher education. GRANT OF NEARLY $450,000 FUNDS INTERNSHIPS FOR 200 AUGGIES An Augsburg College education plays an integral role in preparing our world’s future leaders to make meaningful contributions to their communities, businesses, governments, and families. At the same time, Augsburg offers opportunities for students to gain on-the-job and internship experience so that they can focus on their vocational exploration. The College’s efforts in these areas garnered a boost when the nonprofit Great Lakes Higher Education Guaranty Corporation extended for an additional three years the Career Ready Internship grant first awarded to Augsburg in 2014-15. In all, the College will receive nearly $450,000 through the new grant, which will be used to create 200 paid internships for low-income and first-generation students interested in the opportunities available at for-profit corporations and nonprofit organizations. Moreover, this grant supports the College’s Clair and Gladys Strommen Center for Meaningful Work—a highly visible anchor of the College’s commitment to students’ experiential education and vocational discernment. Fall 2015 3 BOARD OF REGENTS At its annual meeting in September, the Augsburg Corporation elected a new member to the Board of Regents and reelected several board members. Vicki Turnquist [pictured] was elected to her first, four-year term. She has more than 30 years of banking experience and serves on the Board of Directors of Citizens Independent Bank in St. Louis Park, Minnesota. Turnquist was the founder and CEO of Private Bank Minnesota, which sold in June 2014. Unhealthy trees are safely removed from campus. EMBRACING GREEN HORIZONS In late summer, two of the three remaining elm trees in Augsburg’s quad— an alumni gift from more than 50 years ago—were removed because of Dutch Elm disease. While it was sad to lose the trees, the College reserved some of the wood to be transformed into pieces of art, partnering with Tom Peter, a local certified arborist and woodturning artist. The elms created wonderful character of space in the quad for decades and have helped inspire a longer-term vision of the central campus as a larger green space that, over time, will become an even more significant component of campus life. The design for an expanded quad is one of the principal ideas resulting from work done in 2011 to develop a campus master plan and has inspired new thinking around a special campaign effort to support the creation of an “urban arboretum”—a multi-functional green space that deepens the student, faculty, staff, and community experience through hands-on education, research, and recreation. Courtesy Photo welcomes new member Regents elected to a second, four-year term include: • Karen (Miller) Durant ’81, vice president and controller of Tennant Company; • Matthew Entenza, an attorney in private practice at the Entenza Law Firm; and • Jeffrey Nodland ’77, president and CEO of KIK Custom Products. Those elected to third, four-year terms include: • Andra Adolfson, business development director for Adolfson & Peterson Construction; and • Rolf Jacobson, pastor, writer, speaker, and professor of Old Testament at Luther Seminary. LEADING FOUNDATIONS AND CORPORATIONS SUPPORT CAPITAL CAMPAIGN A recent $1 million grant from the Margaret A. Cargill Foundation has helped the campaign to build the Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion to surpass its goal. During the fundraising campaign, several large philanthropic foundations and corporations joined forces in support 4 Augsburg Now of the Hagfors Center, including the Bush Foundation, the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, and the Eli Lilly and Company Foundation. The campaign also received support from 3M, Ameriprise Financial, General Mills, U.S. Bank, and Wells Fargo. “We are honored that the College’s work to promote interdisciplinary studies through the Hagfors Center received generous funding from the Margaret A. Cargill Foundation,” said Heather Riddle, vice president for Institutional Advancement. “The Hagfors Center will support Augsburg in expanding research opportunities and will help shape student learning for 21st century realities.” AROUND THE QUAD This fall, the Student Lounge in the Christensen Center reopened following a renovation designed to offer improved spaces for student organization meetings, community events, study sessions, and—of course—fun. Courtesy Photos CONVOCATION SERIES 2015-16 Now in its 25th year, the Convocation Series offers the Augsburg community an opportunity to share in enlightening conversation with outstanding leaders and visionaries. In September, the series kicked off with the joint Bernhard M. Christensen Symposium and Fine Arts and Humanities Convocation featuring renowned author, Pulitzer Prize nominee, and PBS NewsHour contributor Richard Rodriguez and his presentation “Living Religion.” Rodriguez is recognized for writing about provocative topics such as education, race, politics, the AIDS epidemic, and religious violence. In November, the Center for Wellness and Counseling Convocation welcomed Antony Stately, director of the Behavioral Health Program for the Shakopee Mdewakanton Sioux Community, and his presentation, “Running into the Storm: Renewal of the Spirit.” SAVE THE DATE Join us on Monday, January 18, for the annual Martin Luther King Jr. Convocation, and on Tuesday, February 16, for the Batalden Seminar in Applied Ethics featuring Donald Warne, a member of the Oglala Lakota Tribe and director of the Master of Public Health Program at North Dakota State University. All events are free, public, and held in the Foss Center. For detailed information, go to augsburg.edu/convo. Fall 2015 5 ON THE SPOT Nancy Fischer discusses “The Social Life of Secondhand Clothes” Photos taken at Succotash 781 Raymond Ave., St. Paul REDUCE. REUSE. RECYCLE. For decades this adage has prescribed an approach for improving individuals’ personal impact on the environment, and today the once underrated middle “R” is among the chicest ways to go green. Augsburg College Associate Professor Nancy Fischer teaches courses in sociology; environmental studies; urban studies; and gender, sexuality, and women’s studies. Her current project, “The Social Life of Secondhand Clothes,” is a sociological analysis of the secondhand and vintage clothing industry. Fischer is exploring the emergence of secondhand clothing as a trend in pop culture, the places and urban spaces that sell these clothes, and the many reasons people buy them. Here is a glimpse into an area of the fashion world where some looks are truly timeless. Q: What factors have contributed to the emergence of vintage clothing as a popular fashion trend? A: Wearing old, out-of-style clothing was first a subcultural fashion statement— think beatniks, hippies, and punks. It was 6 Augsburg Now a rebellion against post-war consumerism, an appreciation of craftsmanship, and ecoconsciousness (as a political statement against a wasteful society). In the late 1960s—first in London, then in New York City—fashionable youth started visiting thrift stores, purchasing Edwardian coats and Victorian petticoats, and vintage dressing began to move into the mainstream. The emergence of the vintage trend accompanied a global expansion and standardization of the international garment industry. People who buy vintage usually buy new clothing as well, but vintage shopping provides a different experience; you never know what you might find. Q: A: How is purchasing secondhand clothing advantageous for society? Buying secondhand clothing generally is a form of reuse and keeps clothing out of landfills. Ideally, clothing should never go into landfills. Torn and dirty clothing can be reused as insulation and as paper. But that doesn’t mean we should buy clothes with abandon and then donate them. Most secondhand clothing winds up being shipped to developing countries where in some cases it has undermined traditional garment-making industries. Vintage clothing—as a subset of secondhand—is advantageous because it tends to retain its value. Vintage clothes also reveal our own industrial history. We see those “Made in the USA” labels, and sometimes more specifically “Made in Minneapolis.” There’s value in that historical glimpse at the past. Q: A: What’s your favorite vintage piece to wear? I have a favorite for every season. For winter in Minnesota, my favorite is a 1950s plaid swing coat. It was made in Dallas(!) from boiled wool, which is thick and super warm. It’s custom-made, and I always picture the Texan coat-maker taking on this garment as a rare challenge. Go to augsburg.edu/now to learn more about the social life of secondhand clothing. Nancy Fischer is collaborating with other secondhand clothing lovers on a new book. If you wear vintage and are interested in discussing your role as a consumer as part of her research, email fischern@augsburg.edu. AROUND THE QUAD AUGSBURG HOSTS FIRST-EVER CAREER EXPLORATION SERIES More than 25 companies and organizations participated in an on-campus career and internship fair. Augsburg College this autumn hosted an on-campus career and internship fair along with its first five-week career exploration series. The students who attended the fair met with organizations seeking individuals trained in disciplines including accounting, biology, chemistry, communications, computer science, marketing, religion, and more. The major and career exploration series, organized by staff of the Clair and Gladys Strommen Center for Meaningful Work and Institutional Advancement, provided nearly 175 students opportunities to explore majors and careers by disciplines. The series included programming on professional studies, fine arts and humanities, natural and social sciences, pre-health sciences, and the needs of students still exploring several degree programs. This series was made successful in part due to nearly two dozen Augsburg College alumni who served as panelists and who shared details about their career paths since graduation. SIGNS OF CHANGE Excitement for the future Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion grew on campus after its construction site was marked. This multidisciplinary building will house, among other departments, many of the programs currently residing in Science Hall—a building that had its own site marker as pictured [below on right] during the 1947-48 academic year. Archive Photo AUGSBURG NOW to remain name of College magazine This summer, members of the Augsburg College community were invited to consider whether the College’s magazine name, Augsburg Now, aligned with and supported the publication’s purpose and key roles. A survey allowed people to share feedback on the magazine’s existing name and to consider whether two options, Augsburg Experience and Augsburg Spirit, would be better. The results from the survey point us toward retaining the name Augsburg Now. There clearly is an established resonance with the current name, which uplifts the publication’s ability to: • • Foster inspiration and pride. • Bridge the Augsburg of today with people’s past experiences. • Define and illustrate what it means to be an “Auggie.” • Help the Augsburg community learn how to talk about itself and equip individuals to advocate for the College. Provide intellectual stimulation and ongoing education. We appreciate the opportunity for conversation on the magazine name and are grateful to all those who took time to participate in this process. Fall 2015 7 2014-2015 AUGSBURG COLLEGE ANNUAL REPORT TO DONORS G enerous donors have come together to make this the most successful fundraising year in Augsburg College history. Driven largely by contributions to the campaign for the Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion, alumni and friends gave $35,404,222 during fiscal year 2014-15. This is the fourth year in a row in which donors have contributed more than $10 million to the College and more than doubled last year’s total of $14.6 million. In addition Aybike Bakan ’11, ’15 MPA Dahlberg and Peterson Family Scholarship Hometown: Istanbul Studying: Master of Science in Physician Assistant Studies Favorite thing about Augsburg: “I appreciate its focus on community service and social justice. It also allowed me to grow as an open-minded individual and encouraged me to seek meaning in the work that I want to do in the future.” Joseph David “J.D.” Mechelke ’16 David Huglen Strommen Endowment, the Glen and Marilyn Person Scholarship, and the Joel and Mary Ann Elftmann Scholarship Hometown: Stillwater, Minnesota Studying: Youth and Family Ministry Augsburg College’s influence: “I have become vocation-centered, concerned with social justice, and I am learning to connect faith to social issues.” 8 Augsburg Now to providing crucial funding for the transformative Hagfors Center, the philanthropy of more than 5,600 donors this year helps Augsburg attract talented students and the dedicated faculty and staff who teach and guide them. The gifts provide financial aid, building maintenance and support, and instructional and other resources that allow Augsburg to educate informed citizens, thoughtful stewards, critical thinkers, and responsible leaders. REVENUE BY SOURCE 67% Tuition 11% Room and board 11% Private gifts and grants 4% Government grants 7% Other sources EXPENSES BY CATEGORY 43% Salary and benefits 28% Financial aid 19% Operating expenses* 3% Debt service 3% Utilities and insurance 2% Capital improvements 2% Student salaries *Expenses in this category include: facility repairs and maintenance, information technology expenditures, marketing expenditures, membership dues and fees, outside consultants, supplies, and travel and business meetings. ENDOWMENT MARKET VALUE May 31, 2015—$40,463,556 $38.3 $34.6 $33.3 $32.4 $31.5 $28.2 $27.2 $27.8 $40.5 $29.8 $24.5 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 (IN MILLIONS) Aisha Mohamed ’16 General Memorial Scholarship Hometown: Minneapolis Studying: Biology Proudest academic achievement: “Being able to say I’m a biology major and feeling at home in a lab.” As of May 31, 2015, Augsburg had annual realized and unrealized gains of 10.7 percent on the Augsburg College endowment. The five-year average annual return on the endowment is 7.12 percent, and the 10-year average annual return is 4.47 percent. The College is committed to maintaining the value of the principal in order to provide support to the College in perpetuity. Fall 2015 9 BY CHRISTINA HALLER Jennifer Chou ’99 has never been afraid to ask deep and probing questions—a quality that helped her to make the most of her time at Augsburg, where students are encouraged to explore their talents and learn through hands-on experiences in order to find their callings. Her thirst for inquiry, as well as her ambition, helped get her to where she is today—a successful entrepreneur who made a career out of her great interest in and passion for vino. Craving knowledge Chou’s curiosity sparked her fascination with wine. During her childhood, she noticed her grandmother would always serve wine at holidays. What does wine taste like? Why is wine only for grownups? Why is wine enjoyed on special occasions? Chou’s enthusiasm grew into a passion. While an Augsburg College student, she further explored her interest by joining a monthly wine club where she attended tasting events to learn more—from how to identify main flavor and scent components to the basic characteristics of all the varietal grapes to the histories of the world’s best wine-producing regions. Seizing key opportunities As a communication studies major and business minor, Chou found work as a financial advisor shortly after graduation. While attending job-training courses in Dallas, she made friends with a man in the hotel gym who recommended a very specific wine to her. She bluntly told him that she’d never heard of it, and asked if he was a 10 Augsburg Now “sales guy” for the company. Once again her inquisitiveness pulled through for her. It just so happened that he, in fact, was the winemaker and CEO of Napa Wine Company. Their friendship blossomed, and his knowledge helped hers to grow. “So I always joke that I got into the wine business by working out,” said Chou. Soon after that serendipitous encounter, Children’s Home Society, for whom Chou volunteered, asked if she would request wine donations from distributors for their annual winemakers dinner. “I said, ‘Yeah, I’m fearless, I’m not afraid to ask!’” Chou recalled. “So I went and asked four different distributors for wine donations, and they said, ‘Wow, you really know quite a bit about wine and seem to enjoy it. Have you ever thought about selling it?’” So Chou took a job selling wines for a distributor, traveling to California, Oregon, France, Italy, and South Africa to gain a deeper understanding of each supplier’s wine so she could better sell it. Learning over a glass of wine Because of her extensive wine savvy, friends started asking her for wine etiquette advice. “I would get asked questions like, ‘How am I supposed to hold a glass of wine, under the bowl or the stem? Are you supposed to swirl the glass? In a restaurant, why does the server present the bottle?’’’ said Chou. “This was stuff my friends realized they needed to know in order to stay relevant in the business world—hosting clients at a restaurant or thanking someone with a bottle of wine.” As a way to share her knowledge and enlighten others, she founded The Savvy Grape, a business dedicated to educating people about wine through fun, hands-on experiences. To be an authority on the subject, Chou became a Certified Wine Specialist. This certification required rigorous examinations by the Society of Wine Educators, testing Chou’s expertise and mastery of viticulture and wine production. Chou quickly found a niche with professional organizations and was able to start out by connecting with fellow Auggies who were also business owners. “Being an Augsburg alumna helped because one thing I always find is that Auggies like to help other Auggies!” said Chou. For employers, such as finance and law firms, Chou educates people about wine etiquette while providing a fun and entertaining wine-tasting activity at events such as member drives, holiday parties, employee development conferences, and client appreciation events. At these events, Chou teaches people “how to taste wine like a professional,” offers tips on food and wine pairings, and answers attendees’ questions about wine. Fighting for what you believe in In order for Chou to legally pour wine in a corporate event space, she had to work hard lobbying to change the law, making it legal for a licensed wine educator like herself to hold wine education events in commercial spaces. With determination and grit, Chou hit the pavement, reaching out to her local senators and representatives to see who would be willing to assist. She found Minnesota Sen. Dan Hall ’74 who helped her to navigate the system at the Capitol and get the Wine Educator License signed into law by Gov. Mark Dayton in 2012. Making a living out of wine Chou’s unquenchable curiosity for the world, unstoppable work ethic, liberal arts education, and strong Auggie connections helped to make her dream of making a living out of wine a reality. Chou has authored Wine Savvy, a chapter in the book, “Socially Smart & Savvy.” Below are some of her favorite tips featured in the book. Tips for the wine lover Put red wines in the refrigerator 10-15 minutes before serving, and take white wines out of the refrigerator 10-15 minutes before serving. This will help your red wines be less acidic and allow you to taste more flavor in your whites. Don’t know what to give as a hostess gift? When in doubt, choose a sparkling wine, or “bubbly,” as Chou likes to call it. You can spend as little or as much as your budget allows, and it’s festive for most occasions. Not sure which wine to order in a restaurant? Ask the server for a sample to see if you like it. A restaurant would prefer that you like a wine and order more rather than not like it and order water. This works especially well if you are trying to order a bottle for the table. 12 Augsburg Now Student Sports Medicine Assistant Kayla Fuechtmann ’16 Augsburg athletic trainers collaborate across campus and within the community to achieve a holistic approach to the safety and wellness of student-athletes BY KATE H. ELLIOTT T he score was tied at 2-2 in the fourth inning as a University of Wisconsin-Stout slugger knocked a foul ball down the right field line. Auggie outfielder Brian Bambenek ’07 sailed through the air—glove extended. The ball landed in the pocket, then popped out as his body slammed into an unprotected portion of fence at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome in Minneapolis. After minutes of darkness, the then-senior’s eyes blinked opened to see Augsburg College’s Head Athletic Trainer Missy Strauch hovering over him. She monitored numbness in his fingers and toes, held his hand in the ambulance, and called his parents, Nancy and Mike, to report that their son had injured three disks in his neck. During the days and weeks that followed, Strauch went well beyond her job description to get Bambenek back in action. “I am forever in debt to Missy for all she did for me,” said Bambenek, who today is co-owner of the Great Lakes Baseball Academy in Woodbury, Minnesota. “She is an incredible trainer who truly loves Augsburg College, and we still find time to catch up a few times a year. And her cutting-edge research in arm care continues to influence my work with athletes.” These types of bonds with athletic training staff are the norm at Augsburg. During her 18-year tenure, Strauch has built an expert, dynamic team of professional trainers and student assistants who collaborate across campus and within the community to achieve a holistic approach to the safety and wellness of Augsburg’s more than 500 student-athletes. It’s fast-paced, passionate work. Strauch and her staff know players’ names. They generate daily injury reports Fall 2015 13 Student Sports Medicine Assistants Jack Duffy ’16 (left) and Alison Ranum ’17 (right) aid Auggie running back Michael Busch ’16. and conduct pre- and post-season screenings, and a member of the medical staff travels with every team to most away contests. Strauch demands best practices and has championed increased data collection and the adoption of many advancements, including the computerized concussion evaluation system, IMPACT. She and her staff connect with professors to formulate accommodations for injured student-athletes. “At its core, our role is about relationships—building trust with coaches and student-athletes and developing supportive partnerships throughout campus and with professionals in the community. We work to become part of the team. Assistant Mitch Deets, for instance, camped for a week in northern Minnesota for a cross country team training trip. Assistant Athletic Trainer Kassi Nordmeyer will be traveling to Boston with volleyball this fall and then wrestling and softball throughout the year,” said Strauch, who works specifically with football, men’s and women’s hockey, and baseball. “We don’t have all the bells and whistles of Division I schools, but I 14 Augsburg Now would stack our program’s continuity of care against any of them. And you won’t find stronger bonds. I should show you our stack of Christmas cards and wedding invitations from former studentathletes. Those personal connections make all the difference.” Baseball head coach Keith Bateman agrees. “First-year and transfer studentathletes are often a little hesitant to disclose an injury because they are afraid of not playing. And coaches like being in charge, so I would say many athletic trainers run into walls with team leadership. But not here, not with Missy. She won’t let them or us get away with that,” said Bateman, who is in his 13th year at Augsburg. “She and her staff become such a part of our teams that they know when players are having a bad day by the way they carry themselves. They want student-athletes to play, to be tough, but not to be stupid.” A thoughtful evolution Former head football coach Jack Osberg ’62 worked closely with Strauch for more than 10 years, watching the sports medicine program grow from a part-time enterprise to a comprehensive team that features four certified athletic trainers, one athletic training intern, one physician assistant fellow, 11 student sports medicine assistants, two physicians, one chiropractor, and two physical therapists. “As students at Augsburg in the late ’50s and early ’60s, we didn’t have athletic trainers. Coaches took care of taping, injury rehab, and other training situations. The technology, knowledge, equipment, facilities, communication, and pre-season conditioning available to coaches and student-athletes now is remarkable,” said Osberg, who served as head coach for 14 years and as an assistant coach from 2007-10. “I respect Missy and her staff having observed their mentoring of student assistants, poise when handling serious injuries, and focus on the latest training techniques.” Women’s hockey player Claire Cripps ’16 is one such student who can testify to the program’s expert attention and nurturing approach. Days before midterms last year, the forward sustained a concussion on the ice, leaving her with headaches, dizziness, sensitivity to light, and an inability to focus for almost two weeks. “Missy sent an email to the dean and each of my professors explaining what happened, which led to postponing my exams until I had the ability to study and focus again,” said the exercise science major who plans to pursue a doctorate of physical therapy. “There were no issues with any of my professors, and they all wished me well, which made me really feel that sense of community that convinced me to come to Augsburg after my first visit to campus.” Advancements in prevention Although the most common injuries are routine sprains and bruises, concussions and other serious traumas are a growing area of concern as student-athletes’ speed, size, and strength has increased. But, Strauch says, the diagnosis, treatment, and rehabilitation also have improved. In collaboration with Twin Cities Orthopedics, Augsburg’s implementation of IMPACT (Immediate Post-Concussion Assessment and Cognitive Testing) establishes a baseline for each student-athlete so that health care professionals can quickly and accurately measure changes and potential damage in the aftermath of a concussion. The team’s cuttingedge equipment and data collection, paired with the College’s longstanding relationships with area doctors, ensure that concussions are addressed promptly and thoroughly. Dr. B.J. Anderson, who serves as Augsburg’s director of general medicine, said the College’s sports medicine program offers a “gold standard” of care, particularly when it comes to addressing serious injuries. “I’ve worked with athletic trainers across the globe, and Augsburg’s team is second to none,” said Anderson, who is a primary care provider for the University of Minnesota Boynton Health Service. “The College’s neurocognitive testing is state of the art, and the staff’s relationship with me and other doctors results in continuity of care. We get them in early, address the problem, and get them back in action.” It’s collaboration and conversation among Augsburg faculty and staff that make all the difference in ensuring student-athletes perform their best in competition and in the classroom. When Carol Enke, instructor for Health, Physical Education and Exercise Science, noticed that a typically advanced student turned in puzzlingly poor work, she reached out to her colleagues. “Earlier in the semester, I had used the student-athlete’s work as an example of excellence in class, so when she turned in a below-average lab assignment, I called Missy right away,” said Enke, who served as Augsburg’s head softball coach for 21 seasons. “I knew the student had experienced a concussion weeks prior because Missy called me after the incident. [When] we realized that the injury affected the student-athlete’s ability to analyze ... the entire campus community came together in support. That’s what we do at Augsburg.” And, while Augsburg Athletics employs progressive protocols to safely assess and treat injuries, the College is equally focused on prevention. In June, Ryan Rasmussen came on board as Augsburg’s head strength and conditioning coach and has since worked closely with athletic trainers to keep student-athletes in optimum condition. He is the first collegiate strength and conditioning coach certified in a novel restorative movement approach called RESET. Rasmussen says the system pinpoints and eliminates compensation patterns, empowering Augsburg student-athletes to return to play faster and achieve better performance through optimal movement. “To reap the full benefits of physical activity, we need flawless posture and movement, and this restorative approach helps us achieve just that,” Rasmussen said. “Having a team of people who are concerned with the health of our athletes is hugely important. We recently collaborated on rehab for a hockey player with a torn ACL. She is returning to play this year and was the top performing woman among the five teams reviewed during our conditioning test.” Inspiring mindful studentathletes Mental health and nutrition also are pillars of wellness that the Athletics staff is committed to addressing in a collective, proactive manner. Sports medicine professionals advise studentathletes about the latest in nutrition and collaborate regularly with Augsburg’s Center for Wellness and Counseling to ensure student-athletes are aware of the center’s resources and community support. Center Director Nancy Guilbeault said anxiety and stress are increasingly present in student-athletes lives, but Augsburg is committed to helping all students have healthy, happy college days. Head Athletic Trainer Missy Strauch assists offensive lineman Andrew Konieczny ’15 during Augsburg’s Homecoming football game. “This fall, we worked with Athletics to develop four sessions for incoming student-athletes to address alcohol consumption, mindfulness, body image, and healthy relationships. Athletics, more than many, knows the importance of working as a team to confront the challenges our students face, so they are wonderful partners,” said Guilbeault, who has worked at Augsburg for 36 years. “Coaches and athletic training staff are often the first to notice when a student-athlete might need to talk with us, and they stick with them throughout the process—often walking them over to the Center or attending a session with them.” Guilbeault says mental health is often tied with injuries, as student-athletes feel stress associated with “letting the team down” or experience mental health issues because of certain physical traumas. Her team of counselors and the Center’s collaboration with a psychiatrist and community resources ensure students receive optimum care. “Our students receive up to 10 counseling sessions each academic year, and if they need additional support beyond that, we refer them to one of our community partners and keep up with their care,” Guilbeault said. “Mindfulness meditation techniques are particularly important for student-athletes because the approach encourages student-athletes to be aware of their bodies and present moments, becoming more resilient to stress.” 13 12 Building on a strong foundation Like any strong foundation, the sports medicine team’s roster of professionals and holistic, collaborative approach took years to build; but behind the staff hires, the new technology, and personal bonds is Strauch— driving herself and her staff to become more than just “trainers who wrap ankles.” They are a passionate team of professionals who will do whatever it takes—from stirring the Crock-Pot at potlucks to calling professors— to ensure student-athletes have the tools and support they need to succeed and achieve their life goals. “Our profession has changed dramatically in the past decade. Many of my mentors were focused solely on the injury, and we now take a much broader view, a much more involved role,” Strauch said. “And the best part about it is that we will continue to grow and continue to adapt to the demands of the future. “Augsburg is a community dedicated to finding new and better ways to support our students in every aspect of their lives. And Athletics is a family of student-athletes, parents, coaches, and trainers—all striving to do better, work harder, and represent the best of Augsburg. I love this school. Go Auggies!” 16 Augsburg Now TRAINING CENTER BUSTLES WITH ENERGY In this photo illustration, the Augsburg College training center is a hive of activity. Student-athletes buzz in and out to get care before and after practices and games while athletic training staff assess injuries. After professional staff determine the appropriate care for a student-athlete, the College’s student sports medicine assistants implement treatment and get hands-on practice in their field of study. The training center always is humming with action and support meant to help Auggies do their best in competition and in the classroom. 2 1 4 6 5 3 7 8 14 11 10 9 Assistant Athletic Director and Assistant Softball Coach Melissa Lee ’04 and Assistant Athletic Trainer Mitchell Deets work at the electronic record check-in station. 1 Assistant Athletic Trainer Kassi Nordmeyer administers a pre-practice ultrasound on Jessica Lillquist ’16, a member of the volleyball and basketball teams. 2 Courtney Lemke ’17, volleyball, is treated with hot packs and electric stimulation. 3 Head Athletic Trainer Missy Strauch completes a knee evaluation on soccer player Mohamed Sankoh ’16. 4 Jerrome Martin ’17 is treated 5 with a cold compress before football practice. Carter Denison ’17, Marta Anderson ’17, and Ashley Waalen ’17. 8 Jorden Gannon ’18 gets postfootball practice hydrotherapy. 9 R.J. Cervenka ’16, a football player, ices his shoulder after practice. Kayla Fuechtmann ’16, a sports medicine assistant and hockey player, hauls a hydration cooler back from practice. Sports Medicine Assistant Beth Zook ’17 tapes the ankle of soccer player Ngochinyan Ollor ’15. Soccer players receive hydrotherapy. The players are, from left, sports medicine assistant Student Medicine Assistant Aden Lehman ’17 tapes the ankle of football player Mac Kittelson ’16. 6 7 10 Logan Hortop ’17, a sports medicine assistant, tapes the ankle of Sean Adams ’17, a member of the cross country and track teams. 12 Sports Medicine Assistant Kristopher Woods ’17 delivers wound care to football player Tyler Sis ’16. 13 Silvia Cha ’19, member of the cross country team, does ankle rehabilitation. 14 11 Fall 2015 17 Caitlin Crowley ’16, left, and Associate Professor Phil Adamo peruse documents in the archive area of Lindell Library. Professors team with students to research and share College history BY STEPHEN JENDRASZAK I f you’re interested in the history of Augsburg College, you’re probably familiar with “From Fjord to Freeway,” a book published by long-time professor of history Carl Chrislock ’37 in 1969. The publication, which tells the story of the first 100 years of the College, is receiving renewed interest and attention as we approach the institution’s sesquicentennial in 2019. But no history is complete. Phil Adamo, associate professor of history and director of the honors program, is authoring a new book with students to bring further aspects of the impact and personality of the College to life. 18 Augsburg Now The new book, to be published during 2019, will include previously untold stories from the early years of the College. For example, the story of Augsburg’s first president, August Weenaas, and the sacrifices he made to found Augsburg is told in “From Fjord to Freeway.” But largely unremarked upon is the story of Valborg Weenaas, his wife, who followed him from Norway to Marshall, Wisconsin. She eventually housed 10-20 students in their home, moved to Minneapolis when Augsburg did the same, and passed away in the Twin Cities at only 37. Of course, the book also will address the events of the 50 years that have elapsed since the earlier work’s publication, such as Augsburg’s response to the 2007 collapse of the Interstate 35W bridge in Minneapolis and its aftermath. The College offered its campus facilities to and worked closely with the Red Cross, Minneapolis’ Emergency Preparedness Team, and the Minneapolis Police Department to set up the Family Assistance Center, a place where family members of missing victims gathered to receive news updates, talk with grief counselors, and more. Perhaps most importantly, this new look at Augsburg’s past will strive to address the history of ideas that have shaped and been shaped by the community. “What I’m interested in, which is not done very often, is a history of ideas,” Adamo said. “Those ideas are wide-ranging—from theological issues early on to evolution, which was a controversial subject in religious circles. This was new stuff when the College was founded.” The book is a deeply collaborative effort, giving students opportunities to hone their skills in research and writing while producing a work for publication and being credited as contributors. Students this past summer worked in the College archives with Adamo every weekday morning, and donated a portion of their hours to cataloging documents for the College archives. Caitlin Crowley ’16, a transfer student and history major, documented letters from Augsburg’s fifth president, Bernhard Christensen ’22, to Auggies serving in World War II. “He was the president of the College; he must’ve had a million things to do,” Crowley said. “And yet, there are just folders and folders of personal letters he wrote. [Soldiers] would respond; he would write back. He would tell them what was happening at the College. It made me really like the guy.” Crowley’s own family history, in fact, is entwined with Augsburg’s. Her mother, Deborah (Frederickson) Crowley ’76, married her father on campus in the building that bears Christensen’s name. And her maternal grandfather, Jerrol Frederickson ’43, attended the College for two years before joining the air force just before Pearl Harbor. However, Crowley has yet to find a letter from Christensen to her grandfather. This is the third summer Adamo has worked with a group of student researchers on the project. Students in the first two summers each wrote a single, extensive chapter, but this summer’s group focused on a series of shorter vignettes. Students explored leaders including former College presidents George Sverdrup, class of 1898, and Oscar Anderson ’38; Dean of Women Gerda Mortensen; coaches and athletes like Edor Nelson ’38 and Devean George ’99; and events such as the admission of women in the 1920s. “It almost felt like being a journalist,” Crowley said. “We were given two topics a week. We also had to write about what was happening outside the College during the same time. It was a great way to learn about this variety of topics that I previously didn’t know anything about.” Each Friday, the students and Adamo met to read their sections aloud and critique one another’s work. “Phil could be kind of brutal, which was good,” Crowley said. “Even after just a few weeks, all of us were getting to be much better writers.” In addition to Adamo and the students working on the book, another group of historians is making use of tools Chrislock could only have imagined in 1969—smartphone apps and the Internet—to share the broader history of Augsburg’s Cedar-Riverside neighborhood. Jacqui deVries, professor of history and director of general education, and Kirsten Delegard, scholar in residence in the history department and creator of the Historyapolis Project (historyapolis.com)—an endeavor to share the first narrative history of Minneapolis in more than 40 years—are working with Anduin Wilhide, a doctoral student at the University of Minnesota, to develop a digital history tour of the area. The project will provide both a website and apps for iPhones and Android devices. The team is now seeking funding to complete the digital upload process and to engage students in the researching and writing of additional tours. The project initially was intended to introduce new students to the neighborhood and its rich history, though, as it grew, it became clear that it will now serve a broader audience. The goal is to have the app available as the incoming class arrives in fall 2016, offering a window into the past just as new students join the Augsburg community, ready to shape its future. President Christensen writes to WWII soldiers BY CAITLIN CROWLEY ’16 During World War II, Augsburg College President Bernhard Christensen ’22 diligently wrote to students and faculty stationed around the world to keep them up-to-date on happenings at home and on campus. Today in the College library’s basement, hundreds of letters between Christensen and these Auggies are archived in boxes. The correspondence tells the story of the school during the war. There are Christmas cards from Army bases and training camps, tales of life during war and life back home, well wishes and letters of recommendation for military positions and promotions, and sympathy notes to families grieving the loss of their loved ones. Christensen was deeply invested in corresponding with all the men involved in the war, a job that must have taken countless hours of dictation and typing. He included his personal thoughts in most all of these letters. In a letter to Arthur Molvik ’40, a student who later died in the war, Christensen wrote, “We can only hope that the clouds of war will not hang over us too long and that when peace does return it will be built upon a more secure basis than formerly. Only in a faith of this kind, I believe, can we have courage to carry on.” Fall 2015 19 AUGSBURG COLLEGE SOCIOLOGIST EXAMINES NORTH DAKOTA’S NEW OIL LANDSCAPE 20 Augsburg Now BY LAURA SWANSON ’15 MBA I n the summer of 2012, Tim Pippert lifted a couple of duffel bags into the back of his car and headed northwest on Interstate 94, beginning an almost 700-mile journey that drew him out of Minneapolis—beyond the steel and glass towers, the hectic grid of side streets and signs, and the flurry of Fortune 500 companies and all those who inhabit their cubicles and corner offices. Soon, the fields of western Minnesota and eastern North Dakota lined Pippert’s roadside. He rolled past patches of flax and sunflowers, wheat, alfalfa, and canola to a place where tilled acreage melted into an even more expansive landscape of ranches and natural prairie grasses. For decades—make that centuries—any description of western North Dakota seemed amiss without mentioning this place’s sheer vastness of space, the way gently rolling hills and rugged badlands disappear into broad horizons hugging big, bluish-gray skies. BUT NOW THE STORY WAS DIFFERENT. THIS AREA WAS IN THE MIDST OF A TRANSFORMATION. Fall 2015 21 Pippert was headed to Williston— the North Dakota city viewed as the epicenter of the latest North American oil boom. This isolated community was among a handful of towns and small cities dotting the map in four counties that together emitted a nearly magnetic pull for job seekers of all kinds. It’s likely that the route Pippert followed to Williston began in a similar fashion as the path truck drivers, frack hands, pipe fitters, hair stylists, and people working within numerous other industries took to North Dakota. That’s because Pippert’s curiosity with Williston was piqued by news stories describing the remarkable growth happening in this once stagnant community. What was unique about Pippert’s desire to work in the Roughrider State, though, was that he didn’t plan to fill a position in the oil industry or to hold a job supporting its employees at all. Instead, he sought to study the societal change underway in Williston and its surrounding areas along with individuals’ perceptions of it. Thus, he became one of the first scholars to explore what local residents perceive to be the costs and benefits of the boom. A NEW RESEARCH PHASE As an associate professor in the Augsburg College Department of Sociology, Pippert blends teaching, scholarship, and mentorship into his work each year, with an emphasis on each aspect varying in accordance with the academic calendar cycle. His interest in North Dakota’s changing cultural and physical 22 Augsburg Now landscape stemmed from in-class discussions with his students. Pippert asked his Introduction to Sociology class to bring in newspaper clippings related to current events as an assignment so that, together, the students could practice analyzing information using a sociological perspective. One article on North Dakota oil came in, then another. “That’s when things were in the very early stages of the boom, and there were sensational stories about folks making money hand over fist and people moving out there with nowhere to live,” Pippert said. “I’m from Nebraska, and there was only one stoplight in my entire county. I’m used to seeing all of these tiny towns decline in population or be relatively stable, certainly not growing. As a sociologist, I was just fascinated by what happens when a small town explodes in population overnight.” For years, North Dakotans were concerned about their state’s population decline, but the oil boom in the late 2000s dramatically changed the socioeconomic landscape in the region. In 2013, journalist Chip Brown wrote a New York Times Magazine article that said, “It’s hard to think of what oil hasn’t done to life in small communities of western North Dakota, good and bad. It has minted millionaires, paid off mortgages, created businesses; it has raised rents, stressed roads, vexed planners and overwhelmed schools; it has polluted streams, spoiled fields and boosted crime.” This article is among thousands penned since the start of the boom, but Pippert’s research takes an approach that’s different than the one most popular news media follow. Using a combination of quantitative and qualitative research methods over the course of his career, Pippert has examined subject areas such as the family ties of homelessness, the transition to parenthood, and the accuracy of photographic representation of diversity within university recruitment materials. As the next phase of his research, Pippert recognized that there’s certainly a story related to the development in North Dakota, but it’s not one that can—or necessarily should—be summarized in a 500-word, front-page exposé or in a 2-minute piece on the 6 o’clock news. Pippert is working to construct a longer narrative that is grounded in a sociological understanding of rapid population growth, allowing for an analysis of how the perceptions of local residents change over time. Of course history shows that people’s opinions shift as the state of the oil industry fluctuates, which it typically does. NORTH DAKOTA HAS BOOMED BEFORE “North Dakota has had oil booms before but never one so big, never one that rivaled the land rush precipitated more than a century ago by the transcontinental railroads, never one that so radically changed the subtext of the Dakota frontier from the Bitter Past That Was to the Better Future That May Yet Be,” Brown wrote. Since the beginning, the American oil industry’s history in north central states has followed a cyclical narrative of starts and stops, booms and busts. The subterranean shale that contains the much talked-about oil covers western North Dakota and northeastern Montana, and stretches into two Canadian provinces: Saskatchewan and Manitoba. The Bakken shale was discovered in the early 1950s and named after Henry Bakken, a farmer who leased his land in North Dakota for an early well. At 14,700 square miles, it is the largest continuous crude oil accumulation in the United States. The shale has been in development since 1953 with periods of significant growth punctuating its more than 50year timeline. For instance, in the late 1970s and early 1980s, activity picked up in the upper Bakken when improved extraction technology married political and economic conditions that left the U.S. thirsty for domestic production. THE LATEST BOOM In the late 2000s, innovative engineering and technological refinements also played key roles in bringing about a new boom. The key to unlocking more of the oftensegregated oil deposits in the Bakken shale is horizontal drilling and hydraulic fracturing, often called “fracking.” North Dakota has been described as a laboratory for coaxing oil from stingy rocks. While petroleum geologists have known for decades that layers of the Bakken contain light, sulfur-free oil, it has been much more puzzling how to extract it economically. Today, the Bakken contains some of the longest horizontal wells in the world. Drillers bore vertical shafts and then lateral shafts that extend out as far as three miles in order to harvest otherwise unreachable oil. However, horizontal drilling alone is often not enough to lure Bakken oil from the tightly clenched grasp that holds it roughly two miles below the earth’s surface. The majority of the shale won’t yield its oil unless pressurized water containing sand and various chemicals is pumped down the well to crack open hairline channels within thin layers of oil-and gasbearing rock. This procedure has been environmentally controversial given that the chemicals used in fracking have been known to be or suspected of being carcinogenic or otherwise poisonous. Geologists and engineers continually fine-tune the assortment of frack fluid recipes required in varying geological conditions, and they fracture wells in stages, sometimes repeating the process dozens of times at a single location. Waste from this process must be carefully handled and monitored to avoid contaminating groundwater, polluting surface areas, or injuring workers. Since petroleum engineers began combining fracking with directional drilling, thousands of new wells have been constructed—primarily in four North Dakota counties bordering the Missouri River: Dunn, McKenzie, Mountrail, and Williams. And, from 2006 to 2013, production from the Bakken formation increased roughly 150-fold, moving North Dakota into second place among domestic suppliers of oil, behind Texas and ahead of Alaska. This substantial growth in industry spurred a need for more of nearly everything—laborers, housing units, highways, railroads, power lines, and even patience. “I’ve never seen a more hardworking place,” Pippert said. “There are always things going on. I’m not sure how exactly to articulate it, but it’s like there’s always construction; there’s always truck traffic; there’s always activity on Sunday afternoons. It just doesn’t stop.” The change in Williston and other boomtowns may not stop, but it does slow. This year, slumping crude oil prices have led to a decline among communities affected by the oil industry. Williston was the fastestgrowing small city in the U.S. from 2011 to 2013, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. Yet, news outlets recently have described harder times. Bakken oil has always been expensive to produce and ship to refineries. So, when oil prices started to decrease in autumn 2014, oil producers tamped down their spending. This meant fewer rigs actively drilling for crude and less work for those who service new wells. In extreme cases, layoffs, reduced hours, and smaller paychecks have led workers into hard times and even out of town. “Lots of things have changed since 2012,” admits Pippert. “Now I have to write a potentially different story.” It’s said that North Dakota’s last oil boom, which occurred roughly 30 years ago, collapsed so quickly when oil prices crashed that people declared, “If you’re the last person in Williston, make sure you turn off the lights.” But what did this flight mean for the people who continued Fall 2015 23 ANALYZING AND WRITING Pippert mets with Deanette Piesik, CEO of TrainND living in that community? For Pippert, it’s important for sociologists to analyze how population shifts and the industrialization of rural areas strain community ties and impact the daily lives of long-term residents. This summer, he took his fifth and likely final trip to North Dakota to see how the recent slowdown has influenced life in Williston, to conduct follow-up interviews, and to hear from additional residents for the first time. Pippert met with Deanette Piesik, CEO of workforce development organization TrainND, to discuss whether she had witnessed any signs of an oil industry downturn. TrainND serves as a link between private industry and Williston State College by facilitating safety trainings and offering worker certification programs. After the conversation, Piesik said she appreciated the way Pippert used open-ended questions such as, “How’d that impact you?” and “What do you see?” rather than asking questions that would induce a negative response. “I guess I worry about how some of the things I say will get cut short or be portrayed the wrong way,” said Piesik, whose concern applies to news coverage ranging from national broadcasts to the local press. “Now, I could have been the type of person who was totally negative and that’s what you would have gotten … but I have faith that [Pippert is] writing a good piece about this oil boom and how it has changed this community. I think that’s a positive piece to do.” 24 Augsburg Now Over the course of three years, Pippert conducted 87 interviews to gather data, and he is entering the writing phase of his research—a time when he will synthesize all of this information. Naturally, analyzing more than seven-dozen conversations will be a challenging endeavor. “There comes a point, probably before that 87 number, where you don’t learn anything new,” he said with a laugh, “but it’s so interesting I just wanted to keep going.” Augsburg College sociology students helped to spur Pippert’s interest in the North Dakota oil boom, and they continue to play a role as this project develops. Students serve as research assistants by transcribing interviews and coding the information they contain so that Pippert can examine themes from year to year and from discussion to discussion. He plans to work with a research assistant supported by the 2015 Torstenson Community Scholars program, and he has supervised Ashley Johnson ’16 as she worked on an independent project on sex trafficking in North Dakota as part of her participation in the McNair Scholars Program. Overall, Pippert is positioned to assess the dramatic and immediate strain on infrastructure that North Dakota communities endured during the period of rapid growth occurring during the boom’s first few years. He also will look at longtime residents’ perceptions of oil workers and of crime. “There are certainly more crimes taking place, but whether they are proportional to the population increase is difficult to tell,” Pippert said. It is also complex to articulate how residents felt about an influx of new people in their communities. “As a sociologist, I’m interested in ‘insider’ versus ‘outsider’ framing,” Pippert added. “There seems to be a pretty strong sentiment among locals that they were frustrated with oil field workers. The saying was, ‘Go back home—unless you plan on staying.’” This phrase, Pippert noticed, articulates that longtime residents grew tired of people simply entering their communities for work and then leaving or sending their income to families and homes in other areas of the country. The locals would have preferred for the newcomers to contribute to and make a life in their communities well into the future. THE YEARS AHEAD As time unfolds, the challenges and opportunities presented in Williston may begin to surface in other communities that are in the midst of their own dramatic population growth, and Pippert’s research could serve as a study for navigating complex situations. The oil extraction technology pioneered in North Dakota is expected to have implications around the world, but it’s not only communities near oil deposits that may benefit from this scholar’s perspective. Ultimately, Pippert said, his story is about how the identity of a small town changes when significant industrial development causes a population shift. It’s about massive industry suddenly entering an area—any area—to utilize its resources. And when other communities follow down a similar path as Williston, it’s important for them to learn from the road that North Dakota already has traveled. “It really is about a boom,” Pippert said. “But the source of its spark doesn’t really matter.” A DARK SIDE TO A BOOM scholarship in action A s one of the first sociologists to study the effects of the most recent oil boom in North Dakota, Tim Pippert has been sought out by organizations looking to add context to their coverage of the changes occurring in the city of Williston and its surrounding communities. Pippert contributed to the Forum News Service’s reporting series on human trafficking and female exploitation, and he appeared in the documentary “BOOM,” which depicted human and sex trafficking issues haunting communities. The film tells the story of a recent college graduate who moves to North Dakota to get a job in the oil fields as a trucker and who becomes aware of criminal activity present in his new surroundings. The nonprofit iEmpathize created the documentary to raise awareness about child exploitation and to help industries ranging from oil and gas to trucking and hospitality better train employees to recognize and respond to trafficking. The film was screened in November 2014 at North Dakota’s first statewide summit on human trafficking, which Pippert attended as a featured panelist. He discussed his research in front of the U.S. attorney for North Dakota, the state’s attorney general, local and federal law enforcement agencies, victims’ advocates, social service providers, tribal officials, and others who—he said—came together to ask, “How big of a problem is this?” and “What are we going to do about it?” For Pippert, seeing his scholarship have a life outside of an academic setting has been personally rewarding and publically valuable. Brad Riley, founder and president of iEmpathize, visited Augsburg College in March with Anthony Baldassari, the film’s protagonist and an engagement ambassador for the organization’s Boom Campaign, which assists communities across the United States. The two men joined Pippert in screening the film and leading an on-campus discussion on the issues it portrayed. Baldassari, Pippert, and Riley also served as presenters at Visit iEmpathize.org to learn how this organization works to educate boom communities to recognize and respond to human trafficking issues. the 2015 Nobel Peace Prize Forum, of which Augsburg College is a host sponsor. Pippert’s role in the film helped to “give a real, authentic, and clear unpacking of what’s happening, why it’s happening, and where it’s happening,” Riley said. The film was designed to be a catalyst for conversation in communities where human trafficking already had a foothold or within groups that have an ability to help curtail the offense. In addition, “BOOM” is a teaching tool for the curricula iEmpathize distributes to law enforcement, schools, health care institutions, and other organizations located in areas that are at risk of encountering their own human trafficking issues. “If we can predict where boom towns might be in the future, we can come in and help set up a little bit of infrastructure on the front end,” Baldassari said, which helps to give people the opportunity to intervene in a safe and practical way. Fall 2015 25 26 Augsburg Now BURSTING WITH AUGGIE PRIDE A fireworks display over Murphy Square lights up the night during Homecoming weekend. Nearly 600 Auggies representing more than six decades and from as far away as Norway attended the 2015 Augsburg College Homecoming celebration. The class with the most attendees? Alumni from 1965, marking their 50th reunion! If you’ve never had the chance to see the campus canopied in fireworks, you should plan to attend Homecoming in 2016. The 2015 Homecoming Alumni Award recipients and Athletic Hall of Fame inductees are featured in Class Notes: pages 32-39. To view videos recognizing the award recipients, go to augsburg.edu/now. Fall 2015 27 FROM THE ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT Dear alumni and friends, W elcome to the 2015-16 academic year! Thank you to Chris Hallin ’88 for serving as alumni board president last year. I’m excited to become board president at a time when our group continues to evolve and increase its engagement with alumni in the life of the College. As the campus community looks forward to the sesquicentennial of Augsburg in 2019, we all have the opportunity to participate in the strategic vision set forth by the Augsburg Board of Regents, which states: “In 2019, Augsburg College will be a new kind of student-centered, urban university, small to our students and big for the world.” There is much work that we as alumni have done and can do to support this vision. Mark your calendars for the next Student and Alumni Networking Event on February 9, which gives students access to one-on-one discussions with alumni professionals on campus. Alumni can also partner with the Clair and Gladys Strommen Center for Meaningful Work, as we did this September for the first-ever Fall Career and Internship Fair, to provide alumni and students with meaningful connections. We also work to make annual traditions, such as Homecoming and Advent Vespers, special for alumni of all generations. Throughout the coming year, your alumni board will hear from Augsburg guest speakers about internships, research, study abroad, and service work and learning that shape an Augsburg education. As we listen, we will consider how alumni can support the important work of the College. There are three dimensions in the Augsburg2019 strategic plan (found at augsburg.edu/augsburg2019) that are relevant to our work: • Dimension 1: Educating for lives of purpose—across the disciplines, beyond the classroom, and around the world. As alumni, we can help students outside the classroom and in a manner that equips them to succeed through mentoring, internships, and more. • Dimension 2: At the table with our neighbors and institutional partners, shaping education to address the world’s needs. As alumni, our workplaces and Auggie-owned businesses can work with Augsburg to expand internship opportunities that allow students to build their skills, discern their vocations, and open doors to careers. • Dimension 3: Built for the future—a vital and sustainable institution. Alumni can strengthen collaboration and financial sustainability through our consistent financial support and by sharing the good news about the College among our professional and faith communities, and with our friends and families. As alumni, we have a direct impact on our College in small and large ways. Our participation is key to the future viability and sustainability of our college and of Auggies. I hope you will join us. JILL WATSON ’10 MBA ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT UNIQUELY AUGSBURG TRAVEL Augsburg College alumni, parents, families, and friends are invited to join international tours led by faculty members whose distinction and expertise add to one-of-a-kind travel experiences. If you are UPCOMING TOURS: interested in participating in Germany and the Czech Republic travel opportunities or attending Thailand and Cambodia an information session, contact Sally Daniels Herron ’79 at To learn more, go to augsburg.edu/alumni/travel. herron@augsburg.edu or 612-330-1525. 28 Augsburg Now NOVEMBER 12, 2015 Thanks for Giving to the Max! Thank you to all those who supported Augsburg College on Give to the Max Day. Your gifts enable great opportunities for students in academics, athletics, and campus programs. See the wide variety of projects supported by this annual day of philanthropy at augsburg.edu/now. AUGGIES CONNECT FROM RIVERSIDE AVE. TO RIVERSIDE, CA A demand for Auggies Augsburg is closing the distance between Riverside Avenue in Minneapolis and Riverside, California, through the successful partnership of Augsburg faculty, alumni, college programs—and, of course—talented students. The collaboration is proving so effective that faculty mentors at the University of California-Riverside are calling for more Auggies. When Dixie Shafer, director of Undergraduate Research and Graduate Opportunity (URGO), visited doctoral candidate Tom Lopez ’11, she heard in no uncertain terms from Lopez’s mentor and department of mechanical engineering faculty member Lorenzo Mangolini: “I want more of your students. I want more Augsburg students. Your students know what they’re doing in the lab from day one.” Over the past six years, several Augsburg graduates have landed at UC-Riverside with full funding to attend doctoral programs. The students have a team of Auggie advocates supporting them all the way. The team includes staff from TRIO/McNair Scholars; URGO; STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) Programs; and alumni who have walked a similar path. The Riverside pipeline Augsburg sociology alumni Matthew Dunn ’08, Jenna Mead ’09, and Zach Sommer ’10 were among the first Auggies to blaze a trail to UC-Riverside. They were later joined by Lopez and doctoral candidate Justin Gyllen ’11, a computer scientist and physicist working on an educational technology project to help first-year engineering students improve their note-taking. Now those Auggies have been joined by two more alumni from the physics and math departments: Gottlieb Uahengo ’13 and Amir Rose ’14. Rose, one of five Augsburg McNair Scholars to attend UC-Riverside, credits that program’s role in his success. The McNair program is a two-year opportunity that helps prepare low-income, first-generation, and underrepresented students for graduate school. Rose, whose current research is focused on breeding sterile mosquitoes to eradicate populations of disease-spreading mosquitoes, also credits Augsburg physics professor David Murr ’92 for teaching him research skills and independent thinking. Even current Augsburg students gain research experience at UC-Riverside. Last summer, chemistry student Oscar Martinez ’16 worked with Lopez and also traveled to Scripps Research Institute in Florida. Circle of Support Now that these Auggies are studying and researching in Riverside, Dr. Steve Larson ’72 says it’s his turn to help. Larson, a member of the Augsburg Board of Regents, has been in California since 1980. Three years ago, Larson, chief executive officer and board chair for Riverside Medical Clinic and a generous supporter of the Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion, found out that there was not just one, but a group of Auggies in Riverside, and he invited them to dinner at his home. He has had them back every year, and has been joined by Augsburg College President Paul Pribbenow and Shafer. “We all have something in common,” Larson said of his dinners with the Augsburg alumni and students. “Everyone appreciates what happens at Augsburg College.” There’s a circle of involvement with the College, Larson explained, that begins as a student, continues as alumni go out into the world, and finally turns back to support student success and the future of the College. “This is my turn,” he said. He is excited for how the Hagfors Center will continue to inspire high-caliber students and faculty to take their work to the next level. “Keep those Auggies coming,” Larson said. [Top to bottom]: Augsburg College Regent Steve Larson ’72 supports students like Gottlieb Uahengo ’13 and Oscar Martinez ’16—two of the Auggies whose academic pursuits have led to the University of California-Riverside. Fall 2015 29 AUGGIES CONNECT THOUGHTFUL GIVING Less effort. More impact. “Mr. Augsburg” has spent 44 years of his life—so far—inspiring Auggies to invest in the life of the College. Whether in his role as a student, parent, grandparent, or as alumni director and fundraiser for Augsburg, Jeroy Carlson ’48 has inspired Auggies through the decades to remain connected to their alma mater. The work, connections, and inspiration fostered and forged by Carlson led an anonymous donor to make a generous $165,000 lead gift to name a gathering space in the Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion in honor of Carlson and his wife, Lorraine. Augsburg College Regent Dennis Meyer ’78 and Beverly (Ranum) Meyer ’78 also were inspired by Carlson’s leadership and dedication to the College and decided to make a second gift. The couple’s most recent contribution of $25,000 will go to support the space named in honor of the Carlsons. During his long tenure with Augsburg, Carlson helped countless students get their careers off the ground. “He never hesitated to pick up the phone to make a connection,” said Dennis. One of Carlson’s introductions helped Bev make an important professional connection to launch her teaching career. “There were many 30 Augsburg Now faculty and staff members at Augsburg who provided career guidance and direction, but Jeroy stands out for us,” she said. “I admire the connections Jeroy developed with alumni and his ability to make things happen,” Dennis said, noting that Carlson raised millions for the College. “When he called and asked for something, people gave because they had great respect for Jeroy, his love of Augsburg, and the people who contributed to its success.” Donors are invited to make a gift to the Jeroy and Lorraine Carlson Atrium Lounge—a designated space in the Hagfors Center where the Augsburg community will gather, foster relationships, and build community. Great progress already has been made for this $250,000 initiative, which will end on December 31. There is just $60,000 left to raise to name the space. Please join fellow Auggies touched by the Carlsons’ spirit of generosity and belief in Augsburg. Send your gift, marked “Jeroy Carlson Initiative,” to: Augsburg College, 2211 Riverside Avenue, CB 142, Minneapolis, MN 55454. For more information, contact Kim Stone at stonek@augsburg.edu or 612-330-1173. Courtesy Photo Courtesy Photo Jeroy and Lorraine Carlson Atrium Lounge Make a difference at Augsburg—this and every month—with Thoughtful Giving. A Thoughtful Gift is a monthly sustaining contribution, paid automatically with a deduction from your checking account, credit card, or debit card. Your monthly gifts help provide a steady, reliable income stream, allowing Augsburg to focus more resources on financial aid and student services. Think about it—monthly donations make it easy to budget—and it feels great to know you are making a difference every month of the year. Visit augsburg.edu/giving to start your monthly giving today. If you have questions or want to become a Thoughtful Giver through the mail or by telephone, contact Margo Abramson at abramson@augsburg.edu or 612-330-1557. Thank you for keeping Augsburg strong and thriving with your financial support. I believe in Thoughtful Giving. Sue and Larry Turner ’69 have made an automatic monthly gift since 2013. AUGGIES CONNECT Buy a brick. Honor a legacy. What started out as a group of first-year Auggies from Washburn High School in Minneapolis commuting to campus for classes led to friendships that have transcended job relocations, marriages, losses of parents, and births of grandchildren. Now those Auggies—dear friends for nearly a half-century—are celebrating their life-long relationships and Augsburg’s role in bringing them together by buying a brick to support the College’s new Norman and Evangeline Hagfors Center for Science, Business, and Religion. In the late 1960s, after spending a year commuting to college, the friends decided to live on campus. Although they put their names in the housing lottery, they came up empty. The group learned from facilities staff that there was a house on campus that needed some fixing up and that, if the group was willing to do the work, they could move in. The group cleaned, painted, and got the house ready to live in. John Hjelmeland ’70 and Paul Mikelson ’70 moved into the house in the fall of 1967. By winter break, more Auggies moved into the house: John Harden ’69 and Phil Walen ’70 from Washburn High and Terry Nygaard ’70 from Columbia Heights. The five roommates spent the remainder of their time at Augsburg in the house located where the Charles S. Anderson Music Hall now stands. While the friends all pursued different fields of study, their friendship remained as strong then as it does now. After graduation, Mikelson married and left for a U.S. Army position in Germany, and Hjelmeland and Walen moved out of state. During that time, the group started to circulate a handwritten chain letter as a way to stay in touch. Each of the friends lived in a different city, and the group kept the letter in circulation for 10 years. Eventually, all five Auggies returned to the Twin Cities and began to meet for monthly lunches. This past September, Walen passed away, but the remaining four friends continue to meet regularly. “Augsburg was the place where we cemented our friendship and kept it going all these years,” Mikelson said. While Walen was still alive, the five former roommates together bought a brick to commemorate their camaraderie and Augsburg’s place in it. The brick, which will be displayed as part of the new Hagfors Center, will be inscribed, simply, “2207 S. 7th St.” Courtesy Photo 45 YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP INSPIRES A BRICK Top: Augsburg College alumni on their graduation day [L to R]: Phil Walen ’70, Paul Mikelson ’70, John Hjelmeland ’70, John Harden ’69, and Terry Nygaard ’70. Bottom: Four of the men continue to meet monthly for lunch. THERE IS STILL TIME TO PARTICIPATE IN THE CAMPAIGN FOR THE HAGFORS CENTER! Buy a brick to honor a family member, a teacher, a friendship, or a relationship that defines Augsburg for you. Augsburg will inscribe a brick with your name or the name of someone you’d like to honor. Each brick will be incorporated into the building of the Hagfors Center, creating a lasting legacy for the future of Augsburg. Foundation Brick (40 characters, 3 lines) = $250 Legacy Brick (80 characters, 6 lines) = $500 augsburg.edu/csbr | 612-330-1085 Fall 2015 31 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES 1951 Einar Unseth ’51 marked his 90th birthday on June 29. After farming with his father, Unseth served in the occupation army in Japan. He then attended Augsburg College and Luther Seminary. He served as a missionary to Japan with the American Lutheran Church (now ELCA), and later pastored Lutheran churches in Iowa, Michigan, Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota. Unseth and his wife, Luella, recently moved to Lester Prairie, Minnesota. They have six sons, 22 grandchildren, and seven great-grandchildren. 1952 Dave Christensen ’52 and his brother Duane Christensen ’53 meet every morning to grab some coffee, buy copies of the Bemidji Pioneer and the Minneapolis Star Tribune, and catch up on the latest news. This tradition began in 1990 when Dave moved to Bemidji to retire. Dave taught school in Atwater, Minnesota, for four years and served in the U.S. Army before enrolling in Luther Seminary in St. Paul. Before retirement, he was a Lutheran minister at Adams, North Dakota; Warren, Minnesota; and Pelican Rapids, Minnesota. After Duane graduated from Augsburg, he served in the U.S. Army and then began a career in education as a band and choir teacher in Danube, Minnesota. He earned his master’s and specialist degrees at the University of Minnesota, and then worked as a school principal in several Minnesota districts. Duane moved to Bemidji, Minnesota, in 1969 and started the Bemidji Regional Interdistrict Council, an agency that provided special education services to 18 area school districts. He headed the council for 18 years before retiring. In 1990, the brothers built Maple Ridge Golf Course south of Bemidji. Harvey Peterson ’52, a former member of the Augsburg College Board of Regents and a member of the Athletics Hall of Fame, received a Distinguished Alumni Award at Homecoming 2015. He was recognized for his distinct level of dedication, leadership, and achievement over the span of his career. He and his wife, Joanne (Varner) Peterson ’52, are longtime, faithful supporters of the College. He was the CEO of CATCO, a truck parts supply company founded in 1949 by his father, Art Peterson. He has given unselfishly to his business and industry peers and associates, mentoring and advising many along the way. 1957 Grace (Forss) Herr ’57 was recognized with a Distinguished Alumni Award at Augsburg’s Homecoming in October, which also hosted a reunion for majors in home economics. Her award cited her entrepreneurial spirit, great generosity in establishing numerous scholarships, and longstanding commitment to Habitat for Humanity and the Guadalupe Center in Florida, where she lives with her husband, Doug. This past spring, the couple received the Spirit of Marco Island Award from a Rotary Club, which honored them for embodying the spirit of community through service. 1961 Karen (Erickson) McCullough ’61 walked Hadrian’s Wall Path, a nearly 80-mile trek, across northern England from Wallsend to Bowness-on-Solway. 1964 Mike Walgren ’64 was recognized with a Spirit of Augsburg Award at Homecoming in October. He has been manager of the Augsburg Centennial Singers since 2001. With his wife, Carla (Quanbeck) Walgren ’64, he lives out his vocation of being called to service. In his work with the Centennial Singers, professionally, and with his church, he puts his gifts and talents in service of the greater good—doing the difficult work with full engagement and without hesitation. He was recognized in 2001 with an Outstanding Professional Fundraiser of the Year award by the Minnesota chapter of the Association of Fundraising Professionals. He is an active member of Westwood Lutheran Church in St. Louis Park, Minnesota, where he sings in the choir. REUNION 1965 Augsburg College Regent Emeritus Dan Anderson ’65 was recognized with a Distinguished Alumni Award at Augsburg’s Homecoming in October, which also honored the 1965 men’s basketball championship team on which he played. Anderson in 1977 was inducted into the Augsburg Athletic Hall of Fame for his accomplishments on the court, including leading the basketball team to three conference championships, setting records for career points (2,052 points), and being named conference player of the year three times. Anderson is chairman of AdvisorNet Financial in Minneapolis. He has served on the board AUGGIE SNAPSHOTS 1952 Glenn Thorpe ’60 hosted a celebration for his brother Gordon Thorpe ’52, ’55 to honor the 60th anniversary of Gordon’s graduation from Augsburg Seminary and ordination at Trinity Lutheran Church, which was on June 12, 1955. Gordon served in parishes for 41 years. At the celebration, Gordon was joined by his classmates David Rokke ’52, Carl Vaagenes ’50, ’55, and Bill Halverson ’51. Also joining them to celebrate were Augsburg seminarians Philip Quanbeck ’50, Allan Sortland ’53, Morris Vaagenes ’54, Jim Almquist ’61, Paul Almquist ’62, and Thomas Moen ’62. 32 Augsburg Now ALUMNI CLASS NOTES of directors for charitable organizations, has worked locally for Habitat for Humanity, and is active in his church community. Marilyn (Nielsen) Anderson ’65 treasures her memories of Augsburg band trips to the West Coast and the Augsburg Cantorians’ trips. She taught K-12 choir, band, music, and orchestra for 17 years and has written and published 25 children’s books. She taught writing courses for the Institute of Children’s Literature for 20 years. Anderson also has trained and showed dressage horses at international levels. If she could thank anyone at Augsburg, it would be James Johnson, her piano teacher, and Anne Pederson, who taught English. MaryAnn (Holland) Berg ’65 has had a life filled with music. She taught elementary music and piano for 20 years, and directed a championship barbershop chorus in Fargo, North Dakota, that took her to international competitions in London, Minneapolis, Philadelphia, Seattle, and St. Louis. She currently sings with the Fargo Moorhead Choral Artists, a group she’s been with for 28 years. Her fondest memories of Augsburg include choir tours (especially the Norway tour in 1965) and serving as a student secretary for Leland Sateren ’35. She and husband, Arvid Berg ’65, cherish the memory of the Augsburg Choir singing at their wedding on November 21, 1964. Arvid has no doubt that Sateren inspired him to become a choral director and to strive for the highest performance standards he could achieve. Arvid’s fondest Augsburg memories are of Augsburg band and choir tours, including a five-week tour with the choir to Norway, Denmark, and Germany. Arvid spent 30 years as head of the music department at Oak Grove Lutheran High School in Fargo. He also had a 25-year military career, the last 19 years with the 188th Army Band of Fargo. His current interests include fishing, hunting, traveling, music, and his church. If she could, Adrienne (Strand) Buboltz ’65 would thank the Rev. Waldemar Anderson ’37 for encouraging her and three of her classmates from North Dakota’s Portland High School to attend Augsburg. She fondly remembers serving on the freshman social committee, decorating Christmas trees, watching high school classmate Dan Anderson ’65 play basketball, and meeting her future husband, Larry Buboltz ’65, at Augsburg. She especially enjoyed being instructed by Chemistry Professor Courtland Agre and Leif Hansen, her German teacher. Adrienne graduated from Moorhead State University in 1974 and became a Certified Public Accountant. She worked in public accounting, was a corporate controller, and taught at a vocational school. She opened an insurance brokerage in 1991 after receiving her insurance and brokerage licenses, and she retired in 2005. Larry keeps busy as chair of Detroit Lakes Community and Cultural Center in Minnesota. He serves on a committee to bring a bike trail to the community. He became a city councilman in 1976, and served until he was elected mayor from 1988 to 2008. He likes to Sharon (Kunze) Erickson ’65 says she took an interest in a certain physics lab assistant and eventually married him—Ken Erickson ’62, now retired from the Augsburg physics department. The couple lives in Cambridge, Minnesota, where Sharon taught first grade for 29 years. Sharon volunteers at their church and at the Cambridge Hospital when she isn’t spending time with family and friends. Helen (Friederichs) Griller ’65 has lived in and enjoyed Arizona for the past 28 years, but she has so many special memories of George Johnson ’65 spent more than three years in Pakistan teaching science students who ranged from the undergraduate to the doctoral levels. He and his wife, Leslye, both hold doctorate degrees in biochemistry, and, with support from the Bradley Hills Presbyterian congregation in Bethesda, Maryland, worked with Forman Christian College University in Lahore, Pakistan. The Johnsons view this school as an oasis of tolerance, and they served people who are Muslim and Christian, rich and poor, male and female. The Johnsons’ time in Pakistan convinced them how valuable it is for students and alumni to visit other countries to experience life and cultures. Before this teaching opportunity, George had a robust career in research science, often working in drug discovery and development. From the NOW@Augsburg blog. Visit augsburg.edu/alumni/blog to read more. exercise, travel, play bridge, attend school sporting activities, and is active in Kiwanis. At Augsburg, Larry participated in the debate team and later coached debate at Detroit Lakes High School. He also taught history there until 1968. He joined Rural Minnesota Concentrated Employment Program, Inc. and became chairman in 2005. His high school band instructor, David Skaar ’55, initially encouraged him to attend Augsburg. One of the fondest memories Keith Dyrud ’65, holds from his time at Augsburg is his work publishing the campus newspaper, The Voice. Faculty who most influenced Keith were Carl Chrislock ’37 and Khin Khin Jensen, faculty in the history and political science department, and William Halverson ’51 and Paul Sonnack ’42, faculty in the religion department. Today, Keith enjoys writing history, construction, Norwegian studies, and outdoor activities. He lives with wife, Grace, in Lauderdale, Minnesota. They have six children and nine grandchildren. growing up in Minnesota that she still thinks of it as home. Treasured memories from her Augsburg experience include good friends, the International Associated Women Students trip to Oklahoma, sporting activities, Sno Days, and Freshman Days. Her current interests and activities include four grandchildren, book clubs, reading, traveling, the Scottsdale Garden Club, and activities at her church. Carmen Herrick ’65 passed the Certified Public Accountant exam in 1989 and then worked in public accounting. In addition to obtaining a bachelor’s from Western State College of Colorado, she attended the University of Oslo and Elverum Folkehøgskule in Norway, which afforded her the opportunity to travel throughout Scandinavia. Among her favorite Augsburg memories are living with 11 other girls in Kappa House, and her wonderful business education teacher. Current interests include learning Norwegian, playing bridge, lap swimming, and Silver Sneakers exercise classes. She has six grandchildren. Fall 2015 33 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES REUNION 1965 Don Hoseth ’65 returned to Augsburg in 1971 to earn his elementary teaching degree and taught for 32 years in the Robbinsdale, Minnesota, School District. He has been retired for the past 12 years and keeps busy with his 12 grandchildren. He is grateful for the influence of numerous professors as well as longtime coaches Edor Nelson ’38 and Ed Saugestad ’59. Jan (Mattson) Johnson ’65 and husband, Tom, live in Alexandria, Minnesota, and enjoy seeing their five grandchildren when they visit the Twin Cities. The Johnsons lived in the Philippines for one year and in Maine for another while Tom was in the U.S. Air Force. As a student, Jan worked in Augsburg’s Admissions office for Donovan Lundeen, who had visited her home prior to her decision to attend Augsburg. She relishes memories of singing under the direction of Leland Sateren ’35 in the Augsburg Choir, and feels privileged to have traveled to Norway, Denmark, and Germany with the choir for five weeks after graduating. Jan’s current interests include choir, golfing, quilting, reading, and travel. For Charles McCaughan ’65, Professor Emeritus of History Donald Gustafson was the faculty member who most influenced him as a student. McCaughan lives in Bagley, Minnesota. Dennis Morreim ’65 transferred to Augsburg after three years at the University of Minnesota. He remembers his advisor working to have all of his credits accepted, and he went from being a sophomore to a junior in one day. Morreim met his wife, Jeanne (Wanner) Morreim ’66, during orientation week. She was working in The Grill. The couple has been married 50 years. Dennis earned his master’s degree in divinity and a doctorate of ministry degree. He served churches in Manitoba and Minnesota for 38 years. During his time serving in Cloquet, Minnesota, he went to Honduras 17 times and helped to build eight schools in the Central American country. He spends his time now as a part-time chaplain at a local hospital and nursing home in Cloquet. He also is chaplain of the Minnesota State Senate. Dwight Olson ’65 can still make a mean grilled Spam sandwich and great Swedish pancakes, but can’t lower his golf handicap. Olson lives in San Diego with his wife of 50 years, Lois (Monson) Olson ’68. He founded Data Securities International and is listed in Wikipedia as the “father of technology escrow.” He started Gamma Phi Omega at Augsburg and says that Phil Quanbeck, Sr. ’50, professor emeritus of religion, was his most influential faculty member. Dwight and Lois have two sons and four grandchildren. He says that Lois agreed to marry him the day before graduation so that his family could afford to attend both events. The Rev. Gary Olson ’65 and wife, Jean (Pfeifer) Olson ’64, reside in Maplewood, Minnesota. Gary spends his time in creative writing. He and Jean attend many school events for their three grandchildren. On occasion, he still preaches. Gary’s memories from his time at Augsburg include the day when he was walking to class and walked past a sleeping male student whose dorm mates put his bed, dresser, lamp, and chair on the Quad lawn. Gary says that Esther Olson, a theater and speech professor, influenced him most as a student. Pat (Steenson) Roback ’65 and her husband, Jim Roback ’62, feel blessed to have chosen Augsburg to get their teaching degrees and to have been surrounded by students and staff who got to know them and helped shape them as they chose their future paths. The faculty member who most influenced Pat was Martha Mattson, an elementary education faculty member. Pat recalls that, “She was an icon! What a wealth of information she was, and [she] knew so much about the world because she traveled and lived in many faraway places. She even had a few of us over to her apartment once to teach us tatting. She was very good at it, and we were not.” Pat thanks all of the 1965 reunion committee members for their dedication, ideas, time, and hard work to make plans for Homecoming. Larry Scholla ’65 and Muriel (Berg) Scholla ’67 live in Willmar, Minnesota, and winter in Naples, Florida, where they enjoy the beaches of Marco and Naples, as
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Title: Augsburg Now Summer 2014: An Active Education
Collection: Alumni Magazine Collection
Search Result: The Class of 2014 reﬂects Grants gain ground Spotlight on research Faithful and relevant AN EDUCATION ACTIVE SUMMER 2014 | VOL. 76, NO. 3 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of Marketing Communication Kat...
Show more The Class of 2014 reﬂects Grants gain ground Spotlight on research Faithful and relevant AN EDUCATION ACTIVE SUMMER 2014 | VOL. 76, NO. 3 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of Marketing Communication Kathy Rumpza ’05 MAL rumpza@augsburg.edu Director of News and Media Services Stephanie Weiss weisss@augsburg.edu NOTES FROM PRESIDENT PRIBBENOW An alternative narrative of higher education Our colleague, Harry Boyte, who heads Augsburg’s Center for Democracy and Citizenship, recently argued in The Huffington Post that America needs an alternative narrative of higher education, one that focuses not on meritocratic excellence, but on “cooperative excellence...[the] principle that a mix of people from highly varied backgrounds can achieve remarkable intellectual, social, political, and spiritual growth if they have the right encouragements, resources, challenges, and calls to public purpose.” And, as Harry further points out, we have the makings of this alternative story of higher education in institutions like Augsburg, with its rich heritage of faith, learning, and service. And so we do, as this issue of Augsburg Now so compellingly illustrates. You hear it in the stories our recent graduates tell about what they love about Augsburg—its people, its location, its diversity, its commitment to service and justice, its educational experience like no other. You hear it in the tributes to retiring faculty members like Donald “Gus” Gustafson and athletic legends like Edor Nelson ’38 and Ed Saugestad ’59—even as you read the accomplishments of this year’s distinguished teachers and scholars, future legends. You hear it in accounts of innovative theater programming, bringing together students from Augsburg and the University of Minnesota to perform a groundbreaking production of Peer Gynt at the university’s arboretum. You hear it in the voices of students and alumni sharing their vocational journeys, shaped in this remarkable community. The power of the Augsburg story is that it is not new—it is what I call “the saga of Augsburg” (see my recent essay, “Lessons on Vocation and Location: The Saga of Augsburg College as Urban Settlement” at augsburg.edu/president/presentations), a story that is grounded in our rich history as a college dedicated to the Lutheran Christian faith, to the power of a liberal arts education, to vocational discernment, and to our urban setting. And it is a story more relevant than ever, as it counters the ways in which higher education is viewed as a commodity to be purchased, a ticket simply to a successful career, a stepping stone instead of a firm foundation. Our society needs an alternative story about higher education in order to recover its soul. Augsburg offers such a story in both its history and its aspirations as a 21st century “student-centered urban university, small to our students and big for the world.” And now we need to recruit a corps of storytellers—good folks like you—who know this story well and are willing to stand with us to share it with the world. In our tradition, that is called evangelism. Will you join us? Integrated Communication Specialist/Augsburg Now Project Manager Laura Swanson swansonl@augsburg.edu Creative Associate Denielle Johnson ’11 johnsod@augsburg.edu Marketing Copywriter Christina Haller haller@augsburg.edu Photographer Stephen Geffre geffre@augsburg.edu Production Manager/Now Online Mark Chamberlain chamberm@augsburg.edu Assistant Vice President for Advancement Kim Stone stonek@augsburg.edu augsburg.edu Augsburg Now is published by Augsburg College 2211 Riverside Ave. Minneapolis, MN 55454 Opinions expressed in Augsburg Now do not necessarily reflect official College policy. ISSN 1058-1545 Faithfully yours, PAUL C. PRIBBENOW, PRESIDENT Send address corrections to: Advancement Services CB 142 Augsburg College 2211 Riverside Ave. Minneapolis, MN 55454 langemo@augsburg.edu Email: now@augsburg.edu summer 2014 AUGSBURG NOW Features 12 9 16 23 12 16 24 29 Faithful and relevant BY REBECCA JOHN ’13 MBA We love Augsburg EDITED BY LAURA SWANSON What is it? BY LAURA SWANSON Grants gain ground COMPILED BY STEPHANIE WEISS Departments inside front cover Notes from President Pribbenow 02 Around the Quad 09 My Auggie experience 15 Auggie athletics 23 Auggie voices 30 Alumni news 35 Alumni class notes 15 24 38 In memoriam 40 It takes an Auggie On the cover Each summer, Augsburg College students complete on-campus research activities across a wide range of academic disciplines. Learn about Auggies’ recent projects on page 24. Correction: The Spring 2014 issue of Augsburg Now included an archival photo of Science Hall as part of the My Auggie experience story. The caption accompanying the image should have noted that the building, in its early years, housed the home economics department in addition to the offices, laboratories, and rooms named. All photos and archival photo compilations by Stephen Geffre unless otherwise indicated. AROUND THE QUAD Excellence in teaching and learning Choir performs throughout Ireland The 2014 Distinguished Contributions recipients [L to R]: Shana Watters, Phil Adamo, and Stacy Freiheit. Each year, the Augsburg College faculty recognizes select colleagues with the Distinguished Contributions to Teaching and Learning awards—acknowledging those who have demonstrated outstanding support for students through teaching, advising, and mentoring. The 2014 recipients include: The Augsburg Choir delivered their annual Bon Voyage Performance May 2, then traveled to Ireland for an international tour. The group performed in Cork, Dublin, Limerick, and Newbridge; they also took time to visit the Rock of Cashel, Blarney Castle, and the Cliffs of Moher on Ireland’s rugged western coast. To read more about their trip, visit the students’ blog at engage.augsburg.edu/ augsburgchoir. EXCELLENCE IN TEACHING: Stacy Freiheit, associate professor of psychology “As a professor, [Stacy] ensures that she engages students in the material that she is teaching and makes it personal…She is very creative and open, and implements a multitude of methods to help students learn—from videos, to interviews, to live demonstrations.” —Amineh Safi ’14, psychology and political science major Day at the Capitol EXCELLENCE IN SCHOLARSHIP: Phil Adamo, associate professor of history and director of the Medieval Studies Program “[Phil] has an ability to fold students into his scholarship, providing them with rich and meaningful experiences that develop them as young scholars.” —Dixie Shafer, director of Augsburg’s Office of Undergraduate Research and Graduate Opportunity EXCELLENCE IN ADVISING AND MENTORING: Shana Watters, associate professor of computer science “[Shana] really shines. She is interesting; she is supportive; she has high expectations; she is fun. She takes her responsibility to her students very seriously, but never takes herself too seriously. As a result, she has been a remarkable mentor to many students, even those who have not chosen to pursue computer science.” —Carrie Shidla, Augsburg program manager and assistant director of academic advising 2 Augsburg Now Brid Henry ’16 meets Minnesota State Sen. Charles Wiger during the Day at the Capitol event. This spring, Augsburg Day at the Capitol gave students a voice in the important debate surrounding the Minnesota State Grant program. Augsburg students met with lawmakers and wrote letters advocating continued support for this important financial aid. City and state officials judge ‘The Great Economic Debate’ Courtesy of University of Minnesota Children’s Hospital at [L to R]: Saint Paul Mayor Chris Coleman, Minnesota Department of Commerce Commissioner Michael Rothman, and Minneapolis Mayor Betsy Hodges. MASTER OF MUSIC THERAPY Augsburg’s music therapy program has provided students with a holistic approach to health care through music medicine since 1974. To build on that tradition, Augsburg is launching a music therapy graduate program in the Twin Cities beginning this fall. The Master of Music Therapy (MMT) program will engage students in life-changing experiences and experiential learning, and foster a holistic view of the use of music in health, healing, and well-being. For more information about the MMT, visit augsburg.edu/mmt. The Minnesota Urban Debate League (MNUDL)—a program of Augsburg College—in May hosted its second Mayor’s Challenge. Saint Paul Mayor Chris Coleman, Minnesota Department of Commerce Commissioner Michael Rothman, and Minneapolis Mayor Betsy Hodges served as judges for a student debate resolving that the North American Free Trade Agreement has been beneficial for the economy of Mexico and the United States, specifically Minnesota. This spring, MNUDL also hosted its first Spanish Debate Invitational, a Spanish tournament for Twin Cities middle and high school students, as a way to make forensics available to more students and to help extend the reach of the positive work of MNUDL. Courtesy photo STROMMEN SPEAKERS SERIES This April, the Strommen Executive Speakers Series, which brings local business leaders to campus to share insight and expertise, featured Jon Campbell, executive vice president of Wells Fargo. With 36 years of banking experience at Wells Fargo, Campbell presented “Finding Vocation in Corporate Philanthropy,” touching on his career path, which has been characterized by a strong emphasis on community service. CONNECT. NETWORK. LEAD. Summer 2014 3 AROUND THE QUAD Honoring our retired faculty WILLIAM ARDEN DONALD “GUS” GUSTAFSON Assistant Professor, Business Administration Professor, History Joined the College – 2005 Education – bachelor’s, Gustavus Adolphus College; master’s and PhD, University of Wisconsin Education – bachelor’s, New York University; master’s, Northeastern University (Boston); MBA, Boston University “One of my most memorable experiences as a teacher was my first time in a classroom. I taught a graduate marketing course (at another institution) and walked out of class the first night saying, ‘I haven’t had this much fun in a job in a long time!’” Joined the College – 1961 Gustafson thrives most on the sheer delight of teaching— students from his classes usually remember Rasputin, Alsace-Lorraine, and Che Guevara. GRETCHEN IRVINE Assistant Professor, Education RUTH ENESTVEDT Joined the College – 1993 Assistant Professor, Nursing Education – bachelor’s, College of St. Teresa; master’s, University of Wisconsin-River Falls; PhD, University of Minnesota Joined the College – 1999 Education – bachelor’s, St. Olaf College; master’s and PhD, University of Minnesota “We assume that people are experts in their own lives. We provide useful, relevant service that respects what the person brings to the situation.” MARK ENGEBRETSON Professor, Physics Joined the College – 1976 Education – bachelor’s, Luther College; Master of Divinity, Luther Theological Seminary; master’s and PhD, University of Minnesota One of the most important features of Engebretson’s work is sharing it with his students. His research grants from NASA and the National Science Foundation have supported dozens of undergraduate student research opportunities that educate and motivate science students. 4 Augsburg Now “I believe in using the community as a research tool and bringing the community into the classroom through resource speakers. Respect for the unique characteristic of each student is essential.” JEFFREY JOHNSON Associate Professor, Physics Joined the College – 1985 Education – bachelor’s, master’s, MBA, and PhD, University of Minnesota Johnson likes to teach quantum physics and astronomy, which, he says, “allows me to give my students an appreciation of the wonder and weirdness of our universe.” ASHOK KAPOOR Associate Professor, Business Administration Joined the College – 1998 Education – bachelor’s and master’s, University of Delhi; master’s and MBA, University of Minnesota; PhD, Temple University “Augsburg is different from other institutions in that we have a vocational aspect to our education, which fits in with my thinking. I tell my students that they can do whatever they want, as long as they excel. They will then be happy in life.” DAWN LUDWIG Director and Assistant Professor, Physician Assistant Studies Program Joined the College – 1995 Education – bachelor’s, University of Colorado-Denver; master’s and PA Certificate, University of Colorado Health Science Center; PhD, Capella University One of the guiding principles in Ludwig’s approach to teaching is to help students maintain a focus on service to others, and to always be aware of how one good deed can bless another person’s life. ROBERT STACKE ’71 Associate Professor and Department Chair, Music Joined the College – 1990 Education – bachelor’s, Augsburg College; master’s, University of St. Thomas; PhD, University of Minnesota “I am very proud of the number of students who have a chance to be involved in Augsburg’s music program. One of the benefits of attending a liberal arts college is having the opportunity to perform even if you are not a music major.” Faculty Recognition Luncheon This spring, Augsburg celebrated the careers and contributions of retiring faculty members at the Faculty Recognition Luncheon. The event included a program and a display of recent scholarship and teaching materials. CELEBRATING STUDENT SUCCESS Scholarships and fellowships Augsburg students earned a range of prestigious accolades during spring semester, including the following: BARRY GOLDWATER SCHOLARSHIP Eric Bowman ’15, a biology and chemistry major and McNair Scholar, received an honorable mention in the Barry Goldwater Scholarship competition. The Goldwater Foundation provides $7,500 undergraduate scholarships to students who plan to pursue a research career in a STEM (science, technology, engineering, and mathmatics) field, and the scholarship is the premier undergraduate award of its type in these fields. Bowman was one of only eight Minnesotans to receive an honorable mention this year. BENJAMIN A. GILMAN INTERNATIONAL SCHOLARSHIP Sponsored by the U.S. Department of State, the Benjamin A. Gilman International Scholarship Program offers grants for U.S. citizen undergraduate students of limited financial means to pursue academic studies or credit-bearing, careeroriented internships abroad. Since 2008, 36 Auggies have been awarded a total of $150,000 from the Gilman International Scholarship. This spring, sociology and psychology major Pa-Loo Lor ’14 studied at Augsburg’s exchange partner, Hong Kong Baptist University. This summer, GaoSheng Yang ’14 studied and interned in Shanghai. She is an international relations major with a minor in management information systems. And this fall, biology major Fowsia Elmi ’15, international business and finance major Smeret Hailom ’15, and sociology major Ayan Khayro ’15 will study in Turkey; and music major Elizabeth Fontaine ’16 will study in Indonesia. HAWKINSON AWARD The Hawkinson Foundation for Peace & Justice has awarded Ibrahim Al-Hajiby ’14 the Vincent L. Hawkinson Foundation Scholarship. This scholarship was created by the Foundation to encourage students who have already demonstrated a 6 Augsburg Now commitment to peace and justice to strive for peace and justice both in their educational pursuits and in their personal and professional lives. KEMPER SCHOLARS PROGRAM Najma Warsame ’17, a communication studies student, was named the College’s fourth Kemper Scholar. Students in this prestigious program, which is funded by the James S. Kemper Foundation, receive academic scholarships and stipends to cover the costs of two summer internships in major nonprofit and for-profit organizations. Augsburg is one of only 16 U.S. liberal arts colleges with the Kemper Scholars Program distinction. NEWMAN CIVIC FELLOWS AWARD Vincent Henry ’15 was named a Newman Civic Fellow for 2014. The Newman Civic Fellow Award is a Campus Compact distinction recognizing students who—through service, research, and advocacy—work to identify the root causes of social issues and effective mechanisms for creating lasting change. PHILLIPS SCHOLARSHIP Each year, the Minnesota Private College Council awards six scholarships from the Jay and Rose Phillips Family Foundation of Minnesota to students who attend its 17 member institutions. This year, two of the six were awarded to Augsburg students Sagal Ali ’16 and Muna Mohamed ’15. Ali will work on a project that addresses the high risk of obesity and the rise of diabetes among Somali women, while Mohamed’s project will focus on engaging Muslim women in sports while honoring their religious and cultural beliefs. 2014 PRESIDENTS’ CIVIC ENGAGEMENT STEWARD AWARD The Augsburg student group Students for Racial Justice won the Presidents’ Civic Engagement Steward Award at the Minnesota Campus Compact Summit that took place this spring. This award recognizes those who have advanced their campus’s distinctive civic mission by forming strong partnerships, supporting civic engagement, and working to institutionalize a culture and practice of engagement. Student research awards and achievements ROSSING PHYSICS SCHOLARS STUDENTS PARTICIPATE IN ZYZZOGETON 2014 Two Augsburg College students have been named Rossing Physics Scholars for 2014-15. Juan Tigre ’16 and Fikre Beyene ’16 will receive $10,000 and $7,000, respectively. The Rossing Fund for Physics Education Endowment in the ELCA Foundation was established in 2005 for physics majors at the 27 ELCA colleges. TRAVELERS EDGE SCHOLARS AND TRAVELERS INTERNSHIPS Stella Richardson Hohn ’15 and Lee Thao ’15 are interning in St. Paul and Hartford, Conn., respectively, as part of the Travelers Insurance Empowering Dreams for Graduation and Employment (EDGE) program. This program focuses on college recruitment and retention of low-income and firstgeneration students, and enhances awareness of careers in the insurance and financial industries. In Minnesota, the focus specifically is on students graduating from both the St. Paul and Minneapolis public school districts. Five additional Auggies—Lorreal Edwards ’16, Liban Elmi ’16, Lyton Guallpa-Naula ’16, Angela Hernandez ’16, and Seng Vue ’16—also will complete internships at Travelers Insurance in St. Paul. This group will participate in professional and leadership development workshops supported by the Kemper Foundation to prepare for their internship opportunity. VANN FELLOWSHIP Michelle Grafelman ’15, an Augsburg Presidential Scholar, was awarded the $5,000 Vann Fellowship in Biomedical Ethics at Mayo Clinic. As a summer fellow, she is working with physician and research mentors within Mayo’s Program in Professionalism and Ethics to examine issues such as end-of-life care, genetic therapies, and patient consent, among others. Zyzzogeton is an opportunity to hear about the exciting scholarship happening on campus. This year, more than 80 students presented their research and creative activity to the Augsburg community in the annual spring poster session, which is sponsored by the Office of Undergraduate Research and Graduate Opportunity (URGO), the McNair Scholars program, and the Louis Stokes Alliance for Minority Participation (LSAMP) program. SUMMER 2014 OFF-CAMPUS RESEARCH APPOINTMENTS This summer, several Auggie researchers will be building their skills to support graduate school admissions and careers in the sciences. • Elly Bier ’14—physics; National Institute of Standards and Technology • Weih Borh ’16—chemistry; Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute (LSAMP Summer Research Program) • Chris DeVet ’15—chemistry; CIMA Labs pharmaceuticals • Becca Freese ’16—biology and mathematics; University of Minnesota (Summer Institute in Biostatistics) • Kirubel Frew ’14—chemistry; working with Armon Sharei and Katarina Blagovic at Harvard University and Massachusetts Institute of Technology, respectively • Cedith Giddings ’15—biology; University of Minnesota (CHE-CTSI Advanced Research Program and Undergraduate Research Program) • Michelle Grafelman ’15—biology; Mayo Clinic (Vann Fellowship in Bioethics) Summer 2014 7 CELEBRATING STUDENT SUCCESS • Daniel Hildebrandt ’15—biology and chemistry; Mayo Clinic (Summer Undergraduate Research Fellowship) • Taylor Kuramoto ’15—mathematics; University of Tennessee, Knoxville (National Institute for Mathematical and Biological Synthesis) • Oscar Martinez ’16— chemistry; Scripps Research Institute in Jupiter, Fla. (Summer Undergraduate Research Fellows Program) • Bethany Marlette ’14—biology; Mayo Clinic • Yemi Melka ’15—chemistry and international relations; Friends Committee on National Legislation in Washington, D.C. • Lily Moloney ’15—chemistry; Scripps Research Institute in La Jolla, Calif. (Summer Undergraduate Research Fellows Program) • Promise Okeke ’15—biology; Harvard Stem Cell Institute of the Harvard Medical School • Andrew Roehl ’15—chemistry; Colorado State University (Summer Research Experience for Undergraduates) • Ben Swanson ’15—chemistry; Northwestern University (Materials Research Science & Engineering Center) • Sadie Tetrick ’16—physics; Dartmouth College Physics Department 8 Augsburg Now POSTERS ON THE HILL Each spring, the Council on Undergraduate Research hosts its annual undergraduate poster session, Posters on the Hill, in Washington, D.C. At the event, students meet members of Congress, funding agencies, and foundations, and have the opportunity to advocate for undergraduate research programs. Summa cum laude English graduate Margo Ensz ’13 was among the top 10 percent of applicants selected to present and received an honorable mention for her URGO summer research project, “Analyzing the Persistence of a Sense of Place Among Young Adults in the Technology-Rich, A-Contextual 21st Century,” advised by Colin Irvine, Augsburg College associate professor of English. SCHOLARS AT THE CAPITOL During spring semester, Augsburg TRIO McNair Scholars Amineh Safi ’14 and David Fowler ’14 participated in the 11th annual Private College Scholars at the Capitol event. Each private college in Minnesota annually selects two students to attend the event and present their research. Safi’s research topic, “Racializing Islam: Newspaper Portrayal of Crime Involving Muslims and Islam,” is a descriptive content analysis examining how crimes involving Muslims are portrayed in the Star Tribune and the St. Paul Pioneer Press. Fowler’s research focused on methods for studying heart development and function in the model organism Daphnia magna. MY AUGGIE EXPERIENCE PEASANTS AND TROLLS, COLLABORATIONS AND CHALLENGES BY STEPHANIE WEISS ▲ Nearly 1,000 theatergoers visited the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum for Peer Gynt’s three-day run. The character of Peer Gynt was played by University of Minnesota student Joe Kellen. I ▲ Peer Gynt visits the troll kingdom in an attempt to marry the troll princess. Imagine it’s spring and you are at a site USA Today named as among the nation’s 10 greatest places in America to smell the flowers. You start to meander along a footpath that will lead you through a natural habitat of trees and ferns to rolling prairie and lowlands, all while birds sing after a long winter. As you round the corner from the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum’s visitor center, you come across a small homesteader’s cabin. It’s nestled among the trees. A group of people, dressed as peasants from the 1800s, bicker with one another. You’ve just walked smack into the middle of the set of Peer Gynt, a play by Henrik Ibsen, being performed by students from Augsburg College and the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. The site-specific performance—a production shaped by the unique place in which it is performed and that relies upon existing landscapes and features to serve as the stage and sets—was the first time the two schools collaborated and probably the first site-specific production of this ▲ [Top of page] An audience watches an opening scene from Peer Gynt, a production by Augsburg College and the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities. The Minnesota Landscape Arboretum’s historic Berens Cabin serves as the backdrop for dialogue between the Peer Gynt character and his mother, seated on the wheelbarrow. Summer 2014 9 said. “We thought the universe might like them to meet. We wanted to see new alliances formed and to create more opportunities for artistic intersections because theater and artists are best served when more and more connections can be made.” The staging of this classic Norwegian tale at a Minnesota landmark also was a testament to the academic excellence driven by Augsburg faculty and alumni who create multifaceted student-learning experiences. “Faculty know that in order to develop students’ abilities to think critically and to solve problems— essential 21st-century skills—we need to expose them to hands-on opportunities to work together, to interact with people who think differently from themselves, and to provide time to reflect upon and voice what they learn,” Engen said. STUDENTS CO-CREATE SCRIPT That multi-layered complexity drew students to the story. Boo Segersin ’15, an Augsburg theater major pursuing A children’s playground serves as the set for a scene in Peer Gynt. Existing landscape features are used to stage site-specific theater. ▲ scale for Twin Cities’ theatergoers. “This adaptation demanded new partnerships between schools and with many theater artists—puppeteers, movement specialists, musicians, [and] fight choreographers. We pummeled students with new experiences and gave the audience a spectacular performance,” said Darcey Engen ’88, associate professor and chair of Augsburg’s Theater Arts program. Collaborating with the University of Minnesota allowed Engen and her counterpart, Luverne Seifert ’83, to assemble the large cast required by the play: about 40 student actors in all. And the complexity of the script meant students would build new skills in collaboration, forge friendships, and nurture the beginnings of new professional networking relationships in the tightly connected world of Twin Cities theater. “It seemed odd to Darcey and me that each night there were groups of students creating all of this amazing artistic energy, and they were only three blocks away from one another,” Seifert minors in musical theater and Norwegian, said she was drawn in by the density of Peer Gynt. “I read the play over winter break and wondered how we could do it. It’s on mountains. It’s in mountains. There are trolls. Just the landscapes were a challenge in themselves,” Segersin said. The students worked with Sarah Myers, Augsburg College assistant professor of theater arts, to adapt the script and halve the length of the play. “I was nervous to work on the script, but one of the best parts was working— as a full cast—with Sarah to cut things down,” Segersin said. “We found the ‘red thread,’ the core storyline that runs through the script, and, with that, found our way.” That thread allowed the students to take the play from the three-hour adaptation by famed Minnesota poet Robert Bly to a compact 90 minutes that was accessible to newcomers of all ages but that remained engaging and challenging for seasoned theatergoers. It’s quite a feat when one considers that Ibsen’s original was a hefty seven hours. Boo Segersin ’15 (top) played the role of Solveig, a young woman who leaves her family and insists upon living with Peer Gynt in his hand-hewn cabin. The role of Peer Gynt’s mother, Åse, was played by Nikki Whittaker ’17 (bottom). ▲ 10 Augsburg Now ▲ Nearly 40 performers were involved in the Peer Gynt wedding scene. ▲ Students worked with professional master puppeteers to build and coordinate the movement of a giant raven puppet with a nearly 20-foot wingspan. NAVIGATING CULTURE, CAST, WEATHER, AND LANDSCAPE Wrestling with the script of the play—a story of loss due to procrastination and avoidance followed by redemption late in life—was just one of the challenges faced by students. They also had to identify features in the arboretum’s landscape that could serve as sets, deliver their lines in open-air scenes with acoustics affected by the landscape and ambient noises not usually present in a theater, and learn original music, all while getting to know the culture and student performers from another school. Then there were the logistics for which no planning can be done. “Because of the variables involved, site-specific theater provides attendees the chance to see what is a once-in-alifetime performance and to leave having been an active traveler in the play,” Engen said. “For performers, there’s a textured chaos that you can’t plan for and that forces you to think fast and improvise within boundaries. It leaves you exhausted and exhilarated at the end.” Being faced with those challenges was just what Engen and Seifert wanted for students. The two worked closely to co-direct students in this first-ever collaboration between the schools. “Students learned to perform to the moment at hand,” Engen said. “Sometimes that meant changing the energy and volume of lines to overcome wind or a noisy attendee. Other times it meant staying in character but improvising when a young child persisted in trying to break into the scene.” Segersin said that it was a rewarding experience to work with peers from the University of Minnesota and to perform for the nearly 1,000 attendees who visited the arboretum for the production. “This beautiful thing happened: We became a team,” Segersin said. “And now, sometimes, when I sleep, I dream about them.” BUILDING PROFESSIONAL NETWORKS The relationships and networks, though, extend beyond just the student peers at the two institutions. Engen used the production to help students connect with other theater professionals. “Students built experience in creative problem-solving with some of the Twin Cities’ foremost theater professionals, including master puppeteers, musicians, and movement professionals,” Engen said. “It was a chance for students to explore the many ways to work in theater and to challenge themselves to meld these disciplines.” Seifert added that making connections with artists across disciplines and fields is critical for the future of theater and the artists. “These students now can reach out to one another to collaborate on future projects,” he said. “This model allowed us to give students an understanding of how major companies in regional theater increasingly are combining resources to produce shows.” That goal wasn’t lost on Segersin, who was invited to work as a summer intern with Sod House Theater, a production company founded by Engen and Seifert. “We’re still working out what it means. But I will have the chance to work with the performance of Peer Gynt at sites around the state, to meet professional Twin Cities’ actors and local actors, and to network,” Segersin said. Summer 2014 11 give experience perspectives equipped work explore practice live care beneficial center seek explore beliefs understand evolving seen passions citizen boldly beneficial tell important seen strengths hear world human articulate calling love meaning foundations competence A scholars expanding welcoming give diverse respectfully society propelled God meaning leadership seek desire gifts inquiry views true moral diversity H skill human callAugsburg Now 10 faithful strengths shared center T articulate path beliefs appreciation discussion conversation nurturing relationships opportunity citizen learn Lutheran explore expand value connect religion reflection life I growing journey traditions interfaith responsive asking answers life service skill profound rise care work true dynamic vocation effective gifts challenging path F answers integrity views Christensen connect passions & Relevant Faithful BY REBECCA JOHN ’13 MBA experience theology service vocation reflect Pictured [top to bottom]: Whitney Pratt ’11, Cody Tresselt-Warren ’09, and Jessica Spanswick ’10 Photo by Thomas Kosa ith careers in accounting, education, Grappling with vocation military service, and pastoral ministry, One of the aspects that Auggies in the Christensen Scholars and Interfaith Scholars programs valued most about the experience was the dedicated time to learn and to grapple together with difficult topics and questions. “Having that regular, dedicated time for discussion helped us to better articulate our gifts, strengths, and passions,” said Emily Wiles ’10, a youth and family ministry major who this spring earned a Master of Divinity from Luther Seminary. “We pushed each other to articulate our positions, which helped me really connect with what I think and who I am,” she said. As a result, “things that I might have otherwise taken for granted, I came to ‘own’ as my gifts.” In having to express and explain your perspectives, Wiles said, “you really get to know yourself better.” Also beneficial, according to several alumni, was the opportunity to reflect on the full meaning of vocation. “My generation is going to have 15 different jobs or careers in our lifetimes,” said Cody Tresselt-Warren ’09, who majored in accounting and religion at Augsburg and today is a tax accountant at Wells Fargo & Company. “You think, when you’re in college, that once you graduate and get a job, you’re set,” he said. But there are so many other important layers—from family obligations to the needs of the wider world—that, “you have to interpret your calling from a number of perspectives. It’s a dynamic, evolving journey.” Sylvia Bull ’10 agreed, noting that, especially in the U.S.—a generally career-oriented culture—it is important to expand the view of vocation beyond just a job or career. Bull, an international relations and religion double major who this spring completed her third year at Princeton Theological Seminary in Princeton, N.J., sees faith as serving an important role in considerations about vocation. We need to “open our eyes of faith to see all of the things that we do in our lives as part of God’s call,” she said. six recent Augsburg alumni are finding that their undergraduate experiences studying vocation and interfaith leadership are paying off well beyond their college years. These Auggies participated in the Christensen Scholars and Interfaith Scholars programs at Augsburg—programs that provide scholarships for students to take upper-level religion courses that thrust them deep into topics of faith, religious diversity, service, theology, and vocation. Meeting on weeknight evenings throughout the academic year, students engaged with these topics—and each other— through focused discussion, inquiry, service-learning, and reflection. The number of scholarships available each year is limited, so getting into the program is a competitive process, involving writing an essay and obtaining a recommendation from an Augsburg College faculty or staff member. Students accepted to the programs earn four religion credits and a $2,000 scholarship for the year. But, according to some of the early alumni from the programs, the value of the experience extends well beyond course credit and financial support. Pictured [left to right]: Peter Weston Miller ’10, Emily Wiles ’10, and Sylvia Bull ’10 Summer 2014 13 And “even if faith is not explicitly part of the conversation,” said Jessica Spanswick ’10, who today works as director of career services at Globe University, “it is a profound, shared human desire to seek and find meaning in our lives.” fully effective.” To function as a citizen in today’s world, “you have to understand how people think and the beliefs on which they base their social and moral codes.” Welcoming difficult conversations In the end, these Auggies agreed that the programs’ greatest value was that they equipped participants to ask challenging life questions—seemingly simple (but, actually, not-sosimple) questions like, “Where have you come from—and where are you going?” and “How do you know you’re on the right path?” Consistently, all of these alumni said it was the questions—not the answers—that were most meaningful to them. In fact, they have each continued the practice of asking and reflecting on difficult questions and they shared some of the questions they regularly encounter in their lives today: Asking tough questions Alumni from these programs also shared an appreciation for how their experiences helped them develop the listening and interpersonal skills to learn from and understand others. “We learned to step boldly and respectfully into difficult conversations,” said Peter Weston Miller ’10, “meeting people where they were at, where God had uniquely called them to be.” Weston Miller, an English major who also completed his Master’s of Divinity at Luther Seminary this past spring, said these conversations taught the participants how to “build relationships based on human integrity and dignity, not just [based on] topics” that they agreed upon. “We learned to know ourselves better through the eyes of others, despite different backgrounds, political leanings, and socio-economic statuses,” he said. In particular, alumni from the programs valued the opportunity to interact and work with people who bring different faith perspectives. “Speaking with people from many different faith backgrounds helped me learn to listen to and understand others’ views and beliefs,” said Spanswick, who majored in international relations at Augsburg and recently completed her MBA at Globe University. In her current work, Spanswick meets people from many different cultures, and she noted that their cultural practices often differ because of faith traditions. Whitney Pratt ’11, who majored in economics at Augsburg and serves as a first lieutenant in the U.S. Air Force, agreed that interfaith competency is an important life skill. “Religion is such an important facet of our lives,” she said. “Most of our political struggles center around topics that stem from the moral foundations” that different groups of people use to guide their behaviors and interactions in society. “You can try to build intercultural competence, but without understanding religion,” Pratt said, “you won’t be • “Am I questioning my current path because I don’t like it [today] or because it’s really not my calling?” • “How do I remain true to my Lutheran beliefs and still operate in an ecumenically diverse organization?” • “How will what I want to say affect this other person?” • “If this current path is not my calling, what’s the best step to take to explore what is right?” “As our lives and our world change,” Weston Miller said, “we need to keep asking these questions in order to keep ourselves expanding, growing, nurturing, and propelled forward in God’s calling for all of us.” Continually asking these questions and searching for meaning helps us to see the world not just as it is, Wiles added, but as it could be. reflection • And, the question that Martin Luther is famous for: “What does this mean?” learn care journey leadership life welcoming pathdiverse call world appreciation respectfully discussion citizen moral calling competence 14 Augsburg Now skill passions opportunity work answers FROM GAME TIME TO LIFETIME Influence of Auggie icons shapes alumni and today’s campus August 18 marks the 100th birthday of legendary Augsburg College coach Edor Nelson ’38. Nelson is one of the elite Augsburg coaches who profoundly impacted the College’s athletic programs and whose influence echoed in the lives of student-athletes beyond their competitions on athletic fields, rinks, and courts. At Augsburg, the legacies of renowned coaching staff and faculty live on in the facilities that carry their names, are exhibited in their own philanthropy, and can be seen in the generosity they inspire in others. Bruce Nelson ’71, son of Edor Nelson, said coaches such as his father grew up in an era in which sacrifice for the greater good was common, and coaches played larger roles in the lives of student-athletes than simply running drills. “These coaches taught student-athletes about commitment and that a team is bigger than the individuals,” said Bruce, who lives out what he learned—in part—by serving as president of the Augsburg A-Club, a service organization of former and current Auggie student-athletes and friends of the College. Bruce knows from first-hand experience that student-athletes see, understand, and appreciate the ways their mentors continue to influence their lives as they move on to new opportunities. “Very few athletes, when they’re older, talk about wins and losses. They talk about camaraderie, support, and struggles,” Bruce said. “They remember that my dad helped them get jobs out of college—that the support didn’t stop after graduation.” Nelson is one of a group of long-tenured coaches who are pillars in the Auggie community. Others include: • Ernie Anderson ’37–Coach of Augsburg’s men’s basketball team from 1947-1970, Anderson also was athletic director for 33 years from 1947-1980. His tenure inspired the Ernie Anderson Court in Si Melby Hall. • Marilyn Pearson Florian ’76–Coach of Augsburg’s women’s volleyball team from 1981-1998, she also was the women’s athletic director from 1988-2007. She increased the number of women’s sports and of female student-athletes. AUGGIE ATHLETICS • Edor Nelson ’38–An Augsburg Athletic Hall of Fame member, Nelson coached football from 1947-1969 and baseball from 1946-1979. Augburg’s outdoor athletic field bears his name. • Lavonne Johnson Peterson ’50–“Mrs. Pete” led the ‘Auggiettes’ basketball team in 13 unbeaten seasons from the 1950s to the 1970s and was an instructor until 1980. Augsburg named the health and physical education center in her honor. • Joyce Anderson Pfaff ’65–A pioneer in women’s athletics and in the establishment of varsity women’s sports, Pfaff was Augsburg’s first women’s athletic director, serving from 19721998. She also taught for 43 years. • Ed Saugestad ’59–Coach of the men’s hockey team from 1958-1996, Saugestad’s championship teams claimed three NAIA national and six MIAC state titles. One of Augsburg’s hockey rinks is named in honor of Saugestad, who passed away in March. • Jeff Swenson ’79–Wrestling team coach for 25 years, Swenson has served the past 10 years as athletic director. Auggies brought home 10 national wrestling titles under his leadership, and the wrestling wall of fame bears his name. Today the commitment of these coaches continues to be honored through philanthropic initiatives by alumni whom they inspired. Corky Hall ’71, Augsburg’s first men’s hockey All-American, is challenging fellow student-athletes-turned-Augsburg-alumni to raise funds for a named space in the Center for Science, Business, and Religion (CSBR) to honor Saugestad. (Read more about Saugestad’s legacy on page 33.) Mark Rabbe ’53, one of Edor Nelson’s baseball players, is funding a faculty office in the CSBR to honor the coach. And additional challenges are underway to honor the centennial of Edor Nelson’s birth. These Augsburg alumni—and many others who have stepped up to join a philanthropic challenge—demonstrate that alumni athletes recognize the role coaches played in positively shaping their lives and are willing to seize the opportunity to make a positive impact on the Auggies of tomorrow. Summer 2014 15 WE LOVE AUGSBURG THE CLASS OF 2014 SHARES MEMORIES, STORIES, AND TAKEAWAYS FROM THEIR TIME AS STUDENTS EDITED BY LAURA SWANSON This spring, hundreds of new alumni celebrated their graduation at Augsburg College Commencement ceremonies. While these events often are treated as a conclusion—the grand finale at the end of years of study and hard work—it’s important to remember that commencement, in its very definition, marks a beginning or start. As Augsburg’s newest graduates prepared to launch into new challenges and opportunities with an Augsburg degree in hand, we began to wonder, “What was it about this campus…this curriculum…this College that they came to appreciate during their time as students?” So, we asked. And the Class of 2014 answered. This list, in no particular order, includes a brief sample of the things Auggies love about Augsburg. While it cannot represent all of the College’s valued traits, it does help depict just how unique the institution is. Our students, our alumni, our location, our heritage, and our mission help influence this place, just as the College—in turn—shapes many of these entities. Let’s take a look at why there’s so much to love about Augsburg College and why it’s such a privilege that WE ARE CALLED AUGGIES. 16 Augsburg Now 2 1 The mission AUGSBURG COLLEGE EDUCATES STUDENTS TO BE INFORMED CITIZENS, THOUGHTFUL STEWARDS, CRITICAL THINKERS, AND RESPONSIBLE LEADERS. Working to be “Green by 2019” “I love [Augsburg’s] effort to make the world a better place through means such as eliminating the It says it all, doesn’t it? “I love Augsburg’s commitment to being an institution that prepares students for life beyond academics.” —KIMBERLY CLUB ’14 carbon footprint.” —MITCHELL FUCHS ’14 MSW Intentional diversity “I appreciate Augsburg’s dedication not only to being a diverse community but also to giving students the opportunity to fully acknowledge this through various assignments and campus activities.” —SIERRA BARGER ’14 That small-college feel 4 “Augsburg is big enough to fit your needs, and small enough that you’ll be noticed.” Summer 2014 17 The faculty Professors, teachers, faculty members, instructors, mentors, and friends. The Class of 2014 used many names to describe the people at the head of the classroom and the backbone of their education. And, not surprisingly, these people were the most-cited aspect to love about Augsburg. “The faculty are top notch and some of the most caring and conscientious people I have ever met.” —HOLLY HANSON ’14 MAN “Professors are understanding and accommodating of nontraditional students’ individual circumstances.” —MAYA SUTTON ’14 MAE “I love the close-knit community between students and professors.” —ANDREW DENT ’14 Life in the city Augsburg is the only college of the ELCA located in the heart of a large urban area, and students use the Twin Cities as a metropolitan classroom where they can engage with College neighbors, community partners, and companies large and small. 6 7 “I love Augsburg because of its strong commitment to its mission and its dedication to being a College of the city. I have never been anywhere that has a clearer sense of its identity or that has tried harder to be a ‘good neighbor.’” —MARTHA TRUAX ’14 MAL, DIRECTOR OF ANNUAL GIVING Athletics Augsburg teammates develop bonds akin to a “second family.” From hockey to swimming and from basketball to lacrosse, approximately 450 students participate in varsity athletics at the College each year. It’s a good thing maroon is always in style. “The bond that was built over the years of workouts, practices, games, wins, losses, and just hanging out was one of the biggest benefits to me throughout my college career.” —GARY MARISCAL ’14 8 18 Augsburg Now The dress code Okay, okay. Wearing Norwegian sweaters to Velkommen Jul and bowties with formalwear isn’t actually required. But, it’s fun! Experiential education Augsburg was the first Minnesota college or university to receive the Presidential Award for Community Service. Each fall, incoming first-year and transfer students participate in City Service Day—a day on which the students volunteer at organizations matched to their degree programs and learn in the neighborhoods that surround Augsburg’s Minneapolis campus. Undergraduate students begin their experiential education on Day 1, and it’s a priority that extends throughout each of Augsburg’s degree programs. 9 “I learned how to be a ‘citizen professional,’ and work collaboratively with others to solve problems.” —JUDY SCHLAEFER ’14 DNP Global learning opportunities Cohorts Augsburg undergraduate and graduate students take courses around the world. Whether studying business in Germany, nursing in Namibia, or psychology in Slovenia, Auggies find that learning and living in a foreign culture catalyze academic, intercultural, and personal leadership skills and Some of Augsburg’s programs follow a cohort model that allows students to travel together from course to course, fostering strong relationships between classmates and outlining a clear path toward a degree. “The cohort model for the MBA program allows for great camaraderie!” —AVA BEILKE ’14 MBA responsible global citizenship. 12 Dining together in Rochester “Meals for the Rochester students kept [our] energy up for long evening classes.” —HEIDI OCHTRUP-DEKEYREL ’14 Small class sizes 13 Augsburg’s undergraduate classes average 13 to 17 students, which allows Auggies to learn from—and with—their professors and classmates. Summer 2014 19 Nearby restaurants When it comes to dining out, the CedarRiverside neighborhood has something for everyone. 15 “I love that I can get a gyro, chicken curry, or Chicago-style hot dog all within a couple blocks of my dorm.” —SAMANTHA CANTRALL ’14 Tracy’s (just across I-94 on Franklin Avenue) serves up the “Augsburger,” which features two beef patties, sharp cheddar cheese, barbecue sauce, bacon, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and a side of school spirit. Yum, yum. “Tracy’s is amazing and within walking distance!” —EMMA WINEGAR ’14 Auggie Days Leading up to the start of the fall semester, this on-campus orientation for incoming first-year students is so memorable that people think of it as a highlight of their Augsburg experience—even four years later. Part of the fun includes a Neighborhood Challenge relay in Murphy Square. The campus Not every school is so lucky as to have a 7 ½ Street on campus. “I love that you can walk anywhere on campus in less than 10 minutes.” 16 —MOLLIE KING ’14 Peers (of course) “The people—friendly, genuine, and approachable.” —DENISE HERRERA ’14 MAL, SENIOR ADMISSIONS COUNSELOR “I love the ability to build life-long relationships with people from many different backgrounds and from many different places around the world.” —MATTHEW SCHIRBER ’14 20 Augsburg Now StepUP® Augsburg’s StepUP Program helps students champion lives of recovery, achieve academic success, and thrive in a community of accountability and support. StepUP annually serves more than 100 students and is the largest residential collegiate recovery program in the U.S. 18 The skyline 19 The Minneapolis campus has an eagle-eye view of downtown that’s perfectly fitting for the Auggie mascot. (We’ll let you know how things are coming on the new Vikings stadium). “There’s a stellar view of the city from the top of Mortensen.” —JOE VOKRACKA ’14 On-campus art galleries, pop-up exhibits… The staff 20 21 …guest speakers, music ensemble performances, and research festivals. It isn’t an exaggeration to say that there’s always something happening at Augsburg. Each spring, Zyzzogeton celebrates the creativity and scholarship of undergraduate students. It’s fun to say—and to attend. The College also hosts scholars and professionals at the leading edge in students’ academic disciplines and showcases artwork by visiting artists and Auggies. The exhibition spaces around campus transform multiple times each year in order to present an array of innovative and inspirational pieces. Zyz·zo·ge·ton “I love the changing art exhibits.” —WHITNEY WORLEY ’14 MPA You name it; they do it. In many ways, Augsburg locations are like small cities unto themselves where students eat, sleep, shop, socialize, learn, and live. Augsburg staff members foster an exceptional student experience at locations in Minnesota and around the world. “I love the super helpful and nice financial aid advisers, and the wellorganized Registrar’s Office staff.” —HOLLY REDDY ’14 The changing seasons Winter sometimes can last a tad too long, but Minnesota’s seasons certainly add variety to Augsburg’s academic calendar. Each year the Quad features fall colors, spring blooms, summer picnics, and winter snow angels, which means the weather outside helps to emphasize the timeliness of the College’s in-house traditions. Summer 2014 21 Nearby sidewalks, trails, and bike lanes Home of the Greenway and the Chain of Lakes, Minneapolis has 92 miles of on-street bikeways and 85 miles of off-street paths, not to mention an abundance of pedestrian-only zones. “I love running and walking on the River Road.” —LAUREN RICE ’14 24 A snapshot of graduation The graduating class of 2014 added more than 750 Auggies—from our undergraduate, graduate, and doctoral programs—to the College’s alumni ranks. Commencement ceremonies held May 3-4 featured the theme “Thoughtful Stewards,” which was inspired by the College’s mission statement and reflected the Augsburg communi- Arts and culture Minneapolis has world-class museums, a vibrant dance scene, and more theater seats per capita than any U.S. city outside New York. It’s no wonder Minneapolis was named one of America’s most creative cities, and it’s no surprise that Auggies take advantage of the visual and performing arts in their midst. “I love seeing new work at the Playwright Center just down the road.” —HANNAH YOUNGQUIST ’14 22 Augsburg Now ty’s passion for social justice and sustainability. To see additional photos or watch Commencement ceremony videos, go to augsburg.edu/now. 25 Its influence “Augsburg changed how I think.” —PETER MOORE ’14 MAL Philosophy The AUGGIE VOICES BEHIND A CAREER She’s a lawyer, a seasoned business operations executive, a mother of two, a biotech entrepreneur, and a restaurant owner. She’s also a philosophy and political science double major, and an Auggie. In the years since she graduated from Augsburg College, Naomi Williamson ’78 has charted a career path that has taken her into multiple, disparate industries and types of organizations. “I like the challenge,” Williamson said. Each new opportunity introduces “a new orbit of people and a different knowledge area.” Indeed: After completing her bachelor’s degree, Williamson went on to earn a law degree at the University of Minnesota Law School and worked as a litigator at Larkin Hoffman, one of Minnesota’s largest full-service law firms. From there, she joined Honeywell, where she spent 15 years in contracts, marketing, sales, process quality, and supply chain management. After that, she helped a medical pathologist with a successful biotech start-up, and, then, in 2007, she started a restaurant with her husband, Roger Kubicki, and veteran restaurant owner Michael Kutscheid—while also working on the side as an aircraft manufacturing contracts and negotiations consultant. Williamson’s appetite for digging into a challenge and seeking new knowledge was evident even before she launched her professional career, however. She fell in love with philosophy, she said, after trying to make sense of the writings of Immanuel Kant. “It took me four hours to read 40 pages” she said. “I didn’t fully understand it, but I thought that if I did, I might be able to find the answers I was looking for.” This willingness to do the hard work to make sense of things is so consistently woven into Williamson’s educational and career choices that it appears to be more of an internal drive, a calling, than a choice. “I just can’t get myself on easy street,” she joked. “I’m always doing something to make sure that my next step is just as hard as the last one.” Naomi Williamson ’78 is co-owner of Sanctuary, a restaurant in Minneapolis’ Mill City district. Of all her career experiences, Williamson said that the restaurant business is “far and away the most difficult.” BY REBECCA JOHN ’13 MBA Summer 2014 23 What is it Scenes from undergraduate students’ ON-CAMPUS RESEARCH BY LAURA SWANSON Each summer, undergraduate students at Augsburg College work directly with faculty mentors to complete individually designed research projects and creative activities. Auggies seeking to enhance their education gain rich, hands-on experience by participating in research opportunities sponsored by the College, funded through grants and private gifts, or offered through federal programs. Students from all disciplines can participate in summer research. This year, their topics included designing a tool to sample motor vehicle pollution; examining immigrants’ influence in community organizations and politics; cloning and characterization of Daphnia magna, a water flea; and analyzing the effects of the No Child Left Behind Act on Minneapolis youth, among many others. During the research process, students often use specialized materials and technologies, investigate complex and specific concepts, and explore existing scholarship and literature. Can you match each summer research image with its academic discipline? History 2 Photo by Bill Capman CAN YOU IDENTIFY THESE ITEMS? Exercise Science English 5 24 Augsburg Now Social Work Leading IN UNDERGRADUATE RESEARCH ONE KEY WAY Augsburg College delivers on its commitment to experiential education is through undergraduate research projects in which Auggies employ their talents and passions. On campus, these projects are funded through several sources, including Augsburg’s Office of Undergraduate Research and Graduate Opportunity (URGO), National Science Foundation and corporate grants, private donations, and the McNair Scholars program—a federal TRIO program funded by the U.S. Department of Education and designed to increase graduate degree attainment by students who are first-generation, low-income, and/or members of groups underrepresented in graduate education. 3 Chemistry Physics Political Science Women’s Studies Courtesy image 1 Economics 4 Biopsychology Computer Science Biology Mathematics 6 ANSWERS Summer 2014 25 Q: What is it? A: A column that contains a catalyst and through which a stream of reactants move. Reactants are substances that undergo change during a chemical reaction, and “flow chemistry” is a process that gets its name from the movement of these materials. Chemistry ALAN MEDINA-GONZALEZ ’16 Major: Chemistry, Minors: Biology and Mathematics Research mentors: Z. Vivian Feng, associate professor of chemistry; and Michael Wentzel, assistant professor of chemistry Alan Medina-Gonzalez ’16 chose to participate in summer research because it granted him the opportunity to spend more time in the lab optimizing a chemical reaction, which is a fun—albeit time-consuming—puzzle he enjoys solving. “I wanted to see what it was like to work on a project all day long versus only going into the lab four hours per week as part of a class,” he said. Medina-Gonzalez’s research involved setting up chemical reactions using flow chemistry—a process that helps make reactions more “green” by allowing chemists to lessen waste generation and to improve energy efficiency and safety. His research goal included producing a variety of molecules, including acetaminophen—the primary active ingredient in Tylenol and other medicines—to demonstrate the uses of flow chemistry in the pharmaceutical industry. Q: What is it? A: A foam roller, a tool that breaks up fibrous tissue in order to increase muscle elasticity and circulation flow. Exercise Science CAN YOU GUESS? 26 Augsburg Now BRIANA FELTON ’14 Major: Exercise Science, Minor: Psychology Research mentors: David Barrett, assistant professor of health, physical education, and exercise science; and Tony Clapp, associate professor of health, physical education, and exercise science Briana Felton ’14 chose a summer research project that will help to prepare her for the dream of attending graduate school to study physical therapy. Felton is a member of the Augsburg women’s soccer team, and she loves sports and fitness. Athletes commonly use a foam roller on their muscles for self-myofascial release—a process that applies pressure to trigger points within muscle tissue and is thought to cause the tissue to relax and become more flexible. Although the use of foam rollers has become a common practice in therapy and fitness centers, few peer-reviewed studies have examined its effectiveness. For Felton’s research project, she conducted a study in which middle-aged adult males participated in an exercise program utilizing foam rollers. Felton then assessed the study participants’ balance and functional movement patterns using industry-standard tests to see whether their scores improved over the course of the study. Higher scores have been shown to correlate with a person’s decreased risk of injury. To read a brief overview of Felton’s research findings, go to augsburg.edu/now. Biopsychology Q: What is it? A: An electroencephalogram (EEG) recording cap, which is used to capture the brain’s electrical activity while at rest or engaged in mental activity. BRAD MARCY ’15 Major: Biopsychology, Minor: Chemistry Research mentor: Henry Yoon, assistant professor of psychology Research conducted on substance use disorders often extends to either the biological or the behavioral aspects of addiction. This summer, Brad Marcy ’15 took on the challenge of combining both of these aspects into a single study incorporating behavioral information— in this case, a person’s age of first alcoholic drink (AFD)—and biological data, which was derived from brain patterns collected through EEG scans. Marcy and other Augsburg psychology students gathered data by working with student volunteers, including those in the College’s StepUP® program, which serves students who are in recovery from addiction. Marcy’s research project involved processing and analyzing participants’ EEG data in order to identify telltale signs of being at biological or genetic risk for dependence in these brainwave patterns. He then examined whether an association exists between this biological information and AFD. By evaluating these variables, Marcy can later assess their usefulness in refining the diagnosis of substance misuse. Q: What is it? A: The examination of journal articles, images, and academic texts—illustrated here— are key aspects of student researchers’ literature review process. A literature review discusses published information in a particular subject area. AWALE OSMAN ’15 Major: Communication Studies, Minor: Women’s Studies Research mentor: Adriane Brown, assistant professor of women’s studies “I’ve always wanted to be a teacher,” said Awale Osman ’15, a McNair research scholar whose project almost perfectly aligned with his desired career path. Osman began his undergraduate education at a community college before transferring to Augsburg, and his research project involved examining the establishment and evolution of women’s studies, the emergence of gender and masculinity studies, and current dialogue regarding the field. This work allowed him to combine his interests in communications and women’s studies into a project that enhanced his academic skills. Osman would like to return to a community college one day—this time as a professor instead of as a student. Osman chose his research topic in order to establish a foundation in the research he hopes will be incorporated in a future doctoral program that will, eventually, lead to a teaching role in higher education. “I realize I have to be grounded to be successful in my track,” he said. “So, I’m going for it.” Women’s Studies MORE ANSWERS Summer 2014 27 Biology Photo by Bill Capman Q: What is it? A: The parasitic plant dodder (Cuscuta pentagona) attached to a host plant from which it acquires all its water and nutrients. LUCY BUKOWSKI ’16 Major: Biology, Minor: Environmental Studies Research mentor: Bill Capman, associate professor of biology Courtesy image Augsburg College students have studied the interactions between dodder and its host plants since 2008, and this summer Lucy Bukowski ’16 worked on an experiment testing the hypothesis that a decline in the health of the host plant triggers the dodder to flower. Bukowski’s project benefitted from the help of a plant pathologist at the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities who offered greenhouse space, thus providing a larger growing area and better growing conditions for Bukowski’s research. Go to augsburg.edu/now to learn more about the dodder project. Q: What is it? A: The Bengali pronoun “Ētā,” which is similar to the English pronoun “it.” PRITI BHOWMIK ’15 AND BRAM OOSTERLEE ’16 Majors: Computer Science Research mentor: Shana Watters, associate professor of computer science Computer Science As international students, Priti Bhowmik ’15 and Bram Oosterlee ’16 were attracted to research linked with the official languages of their home countries. In 2011, Bhowmik left Bangladesh to attend Augsburg, and she seized the opportunity to use her background in the Bengali language in combination with her computer science major. Her research project fell in the field of computational linguistics—a branch of linguistics in which computer science techniques are applied to the analysis of language and speech. She explored whether the pronoun “Ētā” has the same cognitive status as the English pronoun “it.” That is, whether a Bengali speaker, in determining what Ētā refers to in a sentence, uses his or her short-term memory in the same manner that an English speaker does when determining what the word “it” refers to. Oosterlee, a student from the Netherlands, performed a similar study by examining the cognitive status of the Dutch pronoun “het.” Bhowmik and Oosterlee’s work ultimately will contribute to developing systems that enhance how computers extract information, summarize text, and translate language. One example of the usefulness of these processes is that they increase the likelihood of returning accurate content descriptions when doctors use digital medical reference materials to find information that pertains specifically to a disorder. 28 Augsburg Now GRANTS GAIN GROUND Funding enhances the Augsburg experience How can you better predict the weather on Earth—or in space? Why do elementary students learn the way they do? And what makes one person attracted to another? Augsburg faculty and students are committed to asking difficult questions and seeking equally complex answers. Each year, the College’s faculty, staff, and students apply for—and receive—prestigious grant awards to fund research, continued scholarship, and academic travel opportunities. There’s tough competition among grant-seeking institutions, but Augsburg continues to gain ground and to obtain funding for new projects. That’s because when Auggies recognize an opportunity to improve teaching, advance scholarship, or enhance the student experience, they ask another great question: WHY NOT? Participation grows across campus. More and more departments and groups are seeking grants as a way to enhance students’ educational experience, to build the hands-on problem-solving skills employers and graduate schools demand, and to propel Augsburg’s research scholarship to the next level. This past year, 13 academic departments and groups—up from just seven departments the previous year—submitted grant proposals, including: 1. Biology 8. Nursing 2. Chemistry 9. Physics 3. Education 10. Psychology 4. History 11. Social Work 5. Interdisciplinary Collaboration 12. Sociology 6. Mathematics 13. STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, and Mathematics) 7. Management Information Systems Here’s a brief overview of Augsburg’s recent grant achievements: Augsburg ranks as top-tier NSF grant recipient. Augsburg College was ranked the top private college in Minnesota for the total dollar amount awarded by the National Science Foundation in 2012. With three grants totaling just more than $1 million, the College ranked third among all Minnesota institutions—behind only the University of Minnesota-Twin Cities and the University of Minnesota-Duluth. Faculty steer student involvement. Tremendous faculty dedication is part of the mix, too. More than 50 faculty and staff members are the driving force behind the College’s 38 active grants. These teachers coach and guide 324 students in rigorous research related to climate change, human health, understanding addiction, and more. COMPILED BY STEPHANIE WEISS GRANTS BY THE NUMBERS Augsburg received 18 new grant awards in 2013-14—up from just seven two years earlier At the time this publication went to print, Augsburg had 14 grant proposals still pending, representing a total of $3.2 million NEW GRANTS 2012-13 2013-14 17 GRANT PROPOSALS 24 7 $1.6 MILLION 18 NEW GRANTS In 2013-14, Augsburg submitted 24 grant proposals— up from 17 the prior year 1% The BREAKDOWN of grants* by sponsor type PRIVATE GRANTS 10% STATE GRANTS 89 % FEDERAL GRANTS GRANT PROPOSALS *Does not include grants secured by Corporate and Foundation Relations Summer 2014 29 ALUMNI NEWS ways to get involved FROM THE ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT A-Club I Dear alumni and friends, have served as a member of the Augsburg College Alumni Board for more than six years, and I am looking forward to taking on the role of president. During my time on the Alumni Board, I have seen an increase in the level of our alumni engagement with the College, and I am inspired by the alumni who were generous on Give to the Max Day; the alumni who volunteered by planning reunions or mentoring current students; and the alumni who have invested in Augsburg’s top priority—the campaign for the Center for Science, Business, and Religion. Like many of you, I care deeply about this College. Augsburg is one of the most diverse private colleges in Minnesota, serving more than 2,700 undergraduate students and 838 graduate students participating in nine advanced degree programs. Augsburg is committed to its Lutheran heritage with an eye on the 21st century. At this year’s Commencement, we welcomed hundreds of new members to our Alumni Association. As alumni, we are a product of Augsburg College and benefit from its local and national reputation. Alumni play a vital role in the rich history, present success, and future vision of the College. I invite you to join me and fellow Auggies who are making a difference in the life of the College. Sincerely, CHRIS HALLIN ’88, ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT Photo by Mark Chamberlain ALUMNI BOARD Front Row [L to R]: Chris Hallin ’88, Marie Odenbrett ’01, Jill Watson ’10 MBA, Sharon Engelland ’87, Melissa Hoepner ’92, Patricia Jesperson ’94, Adriana Matzke ’13; Back Row [L to R]: Brent Peroutka ’02, Adrienne Kuchler Eldridge ’02, Meg Schmidt Sawyer ’00, Sarah Grans ’01, Nick Rathmann ’02, Tracy Severson ’95, Rick Bonlender ’78; Not Pictured: Rachel Engebretson ’98, Frank Grazzini ’96, Holly Knutson ’03, ’07 MBA, Michael Loney ’03, Sharon Mercill ’09, Jerry Polland ’92, Greg Schnagl ’91, Nick Slack ’02, Nick Swanson ’09 The Augsburg College Alumni Board is pleased to welcome new members. ADRIENNE KUCHLER ELDRIDGE ’02 graduated from Augsburg with a major in youth and family ministry and a minor in sociology. As a student, she was involved in Campus Ministry and Residence Life, served as an orientation leader, and studied abroad. Today Eldridge works at River’s Edge Academy charter school. This fall, she will begin a graduate program at St. Catherine University, where she plans to study ethics and leadership. “I chose Augsburg for my college education as an undergrad student because of the Youth and Family Ministry program and [the College’s] solid Lutheran values. My experiences at Augsburg were always hands-on, service-oriented, and growth-filled.” 30 Augsburg Now All new Alumni Board member photos by Mark Chamberlain. The A-Club is an organization of former and current Augsburg College athletes—as well as friends of the College—committed to providing student-athletes with the opportunity to have a quality athletic experience. A-Club members participate in events, service projects, and fundraising initiatives that support Auggie athletic teams, the athletic department, and the mission of the College. Alumni Board The Alumni Board is the governing body of the Alumni Association. Together with the Office of Alumni and Constituent Relations, the Alumni Board provides resources and opportunities to engage alumni with the College and each other through consistent communication, inclusive programming, and intentional relationship building. Auggie in Residence The Auggie in Residence program is a way for alumni and friends of the College to share their professional expertise and vocation. This flexible program allows the community to connect with current students, faculty, and staff members through a variety of opportunities that range from speaking to a class to having lunch with a student organization. Augsburg Builds Connections (ABC) The ABC mentoring program is designed to enable alumni and parent professionals to provide information, encouragement, and support to students. This flexible volunteer program allows mentors to connect with students via email, phone, or face-to-face meetings and assist them in navigating their career paths and achieving their professional goals. Augsburg College Associates MELISSA HOEPNER ’92 attended Augsburg from 1988 to 1990 before transferring to California Lutheran University where, in 1992, she graduated with a major in psychology and a minor in art. Today, Hoepner is a human resources consultant. As an alumna, she has remained involved by serving as a mentor for current students. She has also served as a member of the church council at Peace Lutheran Church in Bloomington, Minn., and is a programming volunteer with the Twin Cities Human Resources Association. PATRICIA JESPERSON ’94 graduated from Augsburg’s Weekend College with a major in business administration and minor in marketing. She serves as the area vice president for Arthur J. Gallagher & Co. Jesperson’s career in business has been distinguished by her extensive volunteer experiences in the areas of program development and diversity. “While I see Augsburg as innovative and inclusive in its approach to education, I also see this as a time for significant change and opportunity in private, four-year educational programs—a time that drives the need to think beyond the box in light of competition from MOOCs [Massive Open Online Courses], for-profit colleges, technical programs, the economy, etc. It’s an exciting time to be part of a team invested in Augsburg’s long-term success.” ADRIANA MATZKE ’13 graduated from Augsburg’s Weekend College with a degree in business management. She serves as the director of financial assistance and admissions coordinator for The Blake School. Matzke served a year on the parish council at her church, and on Blake’s original diversity committee. She and her husband served as presenters with World Wide Marriage Encounter. “I am confident that serving on the Alumni Board will be a positive way for me to give back to the community and to stay connected to a school that I felt so a part of for the last few years. I am a strong advocate for the [adult undergraduate] program and would love to help find ways to support other students.” NICK RATHMANN ’02 graduated from Augsburg with a degree in education. As a student, he played on the baseball and basketball teams and worked in the athletics office. His experience as a student prepared him for his career serving as the director of athletics and PK-12 physical education department chair for The Blake School. Rathmann volunteers for his church, and serves on The Blake Road Collaborative. “Serving on the Alumni Board will give me an incredible opportunity to give back to a school that has given me so much. Augsburg was a transformational experience for me, and anything I can do to help others have that same type of experience is important to me.” MEG SCHMIDT SAWYER ’00 graduated from Augsburg with a major in business administration and a minor in information systems. As a student, she played hockey, softball, and golf. She was involved in Campus Ministry, a contributor for The Echo, a Regents and Community Service Scholar, and part of the studentathlete mentor program. Today she is the chief communications officer for Youth Encounter. She has served on the A-Club Board, and was inducted into the Augsburg Athletic Hall of Fame for women’s hockey in 2012. “I had a life-changing experience at Augsburg College and welcome the opportunity to give back to the College that made me who I am today.” GREG SCHNAGL ’91 graduated from Augsburg with a major in management and minors in economics and management information systems. As a student, he played football and hockey. He is the founder and editor of TeacherCentricity.com. Schnagl is pursuing an advanced degree in educational leadership at Saint Mary’s University of Minnesota. He taught elementary and middle school for the past twenty years, both nationally and internationally. His most recent position was in the Centennial School District where he also served as a coach and board member for Centennial Youth Hockey Association. “I am looking to deepen my commitment to Augsburg by engaging in a leadership role designed to facilitate the financial and personal participation of alumni and promote the benefits of an Augsburg education to future students.” The Augsburg College Associates is a service auxiliary of volunteers whose mission includes fundraising for special projects and scholarships. The Associates’ commitment to the College is evident in the group’s ongoing support of fundraising events including estate sales, Velkommen Jul, and the Scandinavian boutique. Funds raised each year support special projects and scholarships. Augsburg Women Engaged (AWE) AWE is a catalyst for tapping the potential for women to connect, learn, and give. AWE members believe all women have knowledge, experience, and resources to share. Therefore, Augsburg alumnae are invited to make meaningful connections with and for women by participating with an AWE Action Team. Campus Kitchen The Campus Kitchen program at Augsburg College makes healthy food accessible to people in and around the Cedar-Riverside neighborhood while also providing opportunities for service learning, leadership development, and engagement between the College and community. Campus Kitchen serves 2,000 meals a month at community centers, provides about 80 community garden spaces on campus, hosts two farmers markets, and offers educational programming to the community. College Liaisons Augsburg College Liaisons are alumni, parents, and friends of the College from across the U.S. and around the world who serve as an extension of the College by connecting with prospective students at college fairs. Dozens of fairs are held each year—in high schools, churches, hotels, and conference centers. College Liaisons help to describe the Augsburg experience to interested students and their families. Summer 2014 31 Augsburg Centennial Singers honor Al Reesnes ’58 The Augsburg Centennial Singers, men of faith sharing that faith through songs of praise, honored Al Reesnes ’58 by performing a special concert in mid-May at House of Prayer Centennial Singers [L to R]: Paul Christensen ’59, Mert Strommen ’42, and Al Reesnes ’58 Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. Reesnes served as director of the group for 11 years and will move from his leadership position to a vocalist role with the ensemble. Paul Christensen ’59 succeeded Reesnes as director of the Singers. Christensen is the third director for the group, which was established in 1993 under the direction of Mert Strommen ’42. The chorus originally was formed by former Augsburg quartet members who came together to sing for the College’s Homecoming celebration. The group traveled to Norway in 1994 to mark the centennial of the first Augsburg College gospel quartet, and toured again in Norway in 2001. Courtesy Photo A 500-year anniversary celebration in Germany, October 2016 On October 31, 2017 Lutherans worldwide will mark the 500th anniversary of when Martin Luther posted the 95 Theses on the church doors in Wittenberg, Germany. Augsburg College is rooted in the faith and values of the Lutheran church and is offering alumni and friends of the College the opportunity to learn about this heritage. For travelers interested in discovering more about the Germany of Luther and the Reformation, October 2016 is a great opportunity to make the pilgrimage! Join Hans Wiersma and Mark Tranvik, Augsburg College religion faculty members and Reformation 32 Augsburg Now historians, for an enriching experience in the Land of Luther. The tour itinerary includes stops in the German cities of Berlin, Dresden, Eisenach, Erfurt, and Leipzig and in Prague, Czech Republic. This is an opportunity to explore the connections among people, cultures, and historical events while examining the Reformation as an ongoing influence in the 21st century. To receive updates about this alumni tour as plans are finalized, email alumni@augsburg.edu, or call 612-330-1085 to be included on a mailing list. Photo by Ben Krouse-Gagne ’11 ALUMNI NEWS ways to get involved Master of Arts in Leadership (MAL) Alumni Board The MAL Alumni Board engages MAL students and alumni in advancing the Center for Leadership Studies at Augsburg College. Parent and Family Council The Parent and Family Council includes parents and families of current Augsburg students, and helps Augsburg families stay up to date on campus events and feel connected with students and the College. Scholastic Connections Scholastic Connections is a scholarship and mentorship program for high-achieving undergraduate students of color at Augsburg College. The program is designed to assist students in completing their undergraduate degrees. Through career planning and development support, it prepares them to be engaged, successful citizens of the world upon graduation. StepUP® Advisory Board StepUP is a program for men and women pursuing a college education while in recovery from addiction. The StepUP Advisory Board increases philanthropic support for, and visibility of, the program’s endowment. Young Alumni Council This volunteer group is comprised of alumni who have graduated within the previous 10 years. The Young Alumni Council’s mission is to provide dynamic and engaging social and educational opportunities for alumni. Members serve as an advisory council to the Office of Alumni and Constituent Relations. To participate, email alumni@augsburg.edu. AUGSBURG ALUMNI HONOR Archive p hotos ED SAUGESTAD ’59 THROUGH FUNDRAISING CHALLENGE Ed Saugestad ’59 is “plain and simply, a legend,” according to Jeff Swenson ’79, Augsburg College athletic director. Saugestad led the Auggie men’s hockey team to 503 victories and three national championships. He was football coach and athletic director. The ice arena’s main rink carries his name. But the legacy of “Big Man,” who died in March of pancreatic cancer after serving Augsburg for 39 years and retiring in 1996, goes far beyond athletics. As a soft-spoken teacher, mentor, and source of courage and inspiration, he made a difference. If Corky Hall ’71 is any indication, he also instilled generosity and gratitude. “He is the person who kindled the fire in me, and I think he did that for many, many people,” Hall said. He and his wife, Lori, led the charge to name Saugestad Hall in the Center for Science, Business, and Religion (CSBR) with their $25,000 pledge—a first step toward the $150,000 naming goal and a tribute to the CSBR as a visual symbol of strength and connection. When we build the CSBR, “[Augsburg’s] facilities will grow to match the quality of our faculty,” said Hall. “Coach had a huge effect on all of us.” A gifted athlete who became both hockey and football captain, Hall had few academic expectations when he entered Augsburg. His parents hadn’t finished high school, no one in his family had attended college, and homework was a foreign concept. Yet, one day, he managed to ace a test in Saugestad’s tough physiology class. “Ed was the first person to tell me that I was smart,” he recalled. “He set me on a path I wouldn’t have found otherwise.” That path led him to a career that included starting, with classmate Bill Urseth ’71, one of the nation’s leading promotional marketing agencies, U.S. Communications, U.S. Restaurants, and U.S. Studios; launching a brand consultancy, Hall Batko; and founding Stellus Consulting, which helps corporate leaders envision and brand their companies. It also led him to realize that great mentoring builds strong bridges—between athletics and academics, between teachers and students, and between gratitude and giving back. “Augsburg needs great facilities for athletes to develop their academic side,” he said. “Ed made the bridge for me between athletics and academics, and if I hadn’t gotten strong academics at Augsburg, I wouldn’t be the person I am today. I want to give a gift that says ‘thank you’ to Ed for making such a difference in my life.” Hall has found that his fellow Augsburg alumni have similar gratitude for Saugestad’s commitment and are willing to echo his “thank you.” “Corky is so respected by the Augsburg community that, when he steps forward, he sets a tone with his leadership. That’s the momentum we need,” said Keith Stout, Augsburg College director of principal gifts. “He wants everyone involved, participating at any level. If they’re grateful for their time with Ed, it’s their chance to honor his legacy.” By May, the initiative had raised $105,000. “He deserves it,” Hall said. “Ed did so much to make our lives better. Now it’s our turn.” Get Social Find Augsburg Alumni across a variety of social media channels. “Like” the Augsburg College Alumni Association on Facebook for fun contests, trivia, photos, news, and more. facebook.com/AugsburgAlumni Tag @Augsburg_Alumni in your tweets, and the College may help share your news. Or, simply follow @Augsburg_Alumni on Twitter to learn about upcoming events and read College updates. twitter.com/augsburg_alumni Make connections with fellow Auggies and join discussions about careers and networking through the Augsburg College Alumni group on LinkedIn. goo.gl/UJ9BkO Check out the “Auggies through the ages” board on Pinterest for a slice of College history. pinterest.com/augsburgcollege Visit Augsburg’s YouTube channel for a video archive of alumni lectures, events, and more. youtube.com/augsburgcollege No matter where you are in the world, you can join the Augsburg College social media conversation! Summer Spring 2014 2014 17 33 ALUMNI NEWS HOMECOMING 2014 SEPTEMBER 22-27 IS BACK! Save the date for Give to the Max Day 2014. On Thursday, November 13, Augsburg College once again will participate in Give to the Max Day, a one-day online giving event in which donors around the world support their favorite Minnesota nonprofits. Give to the Max Day is also a competition, and last year Augsburg raised more money than any other Minnesota college or university. A total of 837 donors gave more than $313,000 to Augsburg in just 24 hours. Augsburg also placed fourth among all nonprofits overall. Many alumni, parents, and friends took to social media throughout the day to share Augsburg’s rankings and to keep tabs on the College’s progress. Augsburg faculty, staff, and students from across campus are preparing for another successful Give to the Max Day by setting up their own fundraising projects and encouraging donors to support Augsburg causes close to their hearts—such as volleyball, student research funding, the StepUP® program, and more. There is no limit to the number of projects donors can give to. In fact, many Augsburg donors gave to multiple projects last year. Watch for updates about Give to the Max Day in the coming months. For more information, contact Martha Truax at 612-330-1652 or truaxm@augsburg.edu. 34 Augsburg Now Homecoming 2014 is a great time to come home to Augsburg. Alumni, families, and friends—get ready for a fun-filled week of celebration. New events along with old favorites make this one of the best times to visit campus. Go to augsburg.edu/homecoming to find additional information and to register. PROGRAM HIGHLIGHTS INCLUDE: Friday, September 26 Saturday, September 27 Homecoming Convocation with Distinguished Alumni Awards Taste of Augsburg Hoversten Chapel, Foss Center, 10 to 11:30 a.m. Recognizing the First Decade, Spirit of Augsburg, and Distinguished Alumni Award winners. Faculty and Faculty Emeriti Meet and Greet Old Main, 4 p.m. Reconnect with faculty from your time at Augsburg College and take the opportunity to meet current faculty from a variety of departments. Auggie Hours Old Main, 6 to 8:15 p.m. Back by popular demand, this homecoming social hour is being brought to campus. Homecoming Weekend Fireworks Murphy Square, 8:15 p.m. All are invited to kick-off homecoming weekend with a full fireworks display. Murphy Square, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. This event includes carnival-style booths operated by student groups, alumni, and local restaurants, as well as games, inflatable bounce houses, and fun for the entire family. Homecoming Football Game vs. Gustavus Adolphus College Edor Nelson Field, 1 p.m. Cheer on the Auggie football team as they take on the Gustavus Gusties. Auggie Block Party Parking Lot K, 3:30 to 6 p.m. Immediately following the football game, enjoy live music, s’mores, and more. ALUMNI CLASS NOTES 77 70 Ray Hanson is working for TASC, Inc. Hanson is a scientist working on countermeasures for multi-drugresistant bacteria. 72 Kathleen Edmond joined the law firm of Robins, Kaplan, Miller & Ciresi LLP as counsel with the business litigation group in Minneapolis. She most recently served as chief ethics officer at Best Buy. Edmond serves as an advisory board member for the University of St. Thomas Law School where she provides curriculum guidance for the master’s degree in organizational ethics and compliance. She is also an executive fellow at the Center for Ethical Business Cultures at the University of St. Thomas. Sonja (Daniels) Zapchenk has served Eaglecrest, a Presbyterian Homes community in Roseville, Minn., for 20 years and is now recreation and volunteer director. She is also the intergenerational coordinator, which provides the special opportunity to lead activities for senior residents and the toddlers and preschoolers who attend a childcare center in the same facility. 74 William “Bill” Axness is the 2014 Minnesota Society of Health-System Pharmacists (MSHP) Hallie Bruce Memorial Lecture Award recipient. The award is presented to an individual of high moral character, good citizenship, and high professional ideals who has made significant contributions to the profession of pharmacy in Minnesota. Axness is a pharmacy manager at Allina Hospice and Palliative Care. 79 Rev. David Halaas was installed as pastor of St. Mark Lutheran Church in Sioux City, Iowa. 87 Jenni Lilledahl co-founded the new Twin Cities location of Gilda’s Club after losing her AUGGIE SNAPSHOTS 69 Janis “Matty” Mathison had a banner year in 2013. She organized Walk to School programs at several schools, served on the Board of Shawano Pathways (a Shawano, Wis., group promoting safer and better pedestrian and cyclist opportunities), raised $20,000 in matching grant funds for sister, Teri Svare, to cancer. Gilda’s Club serves cancer patients and those who love them. Named after Saturday Night Live comedian Gilda Radner, who died of ovarian cancer, this new clubhouse is a place where cancer patients and their families and friends can de-stress in the mind-body studio, take a nutrition class in the kitchen, and meet with others for emotional and social support. Not only is Gilda’s Club an oasis for those touched by cancer, it offers all of its services free of charge. 62 Shawano Pathways, and led the effort to host a supported bike tour of Shawano County called Bike the Barn Quilts. Wisconsin Public Television came to Shawano to interview her about the bike tour, which in its first year drew 180 participants and 50 volunteers. Mathison also organized a large fundraiser for a former student who was battling brain cancer. These and many other community contributions earned Mathison the “Distinguished Citizen of the Year” award for Shawano County. This year, she is planning the second Bike the Barn Quilts ride, organizing a Let’s Get Moving! campaign, and finalizing maps for Park to Park walking and biking routes in the city of Shawano. She also was among the inaugural inductees into the new Wisconsin Volleyball Coaches Hall of Fame. 89 Sue Hakes has been selected as a 2014 Bush Fellow. The Bush Foundation is committed to supporting and developing leaders who are better equipped and better networked to effectively lead change. The work of the fellowship is to blend opportunities for personal development with efforts to effectively engage with others. In January, Luther Seminary honored Pastor Ron Nelson with the 2014 Faithfulness in Ministry Cross Award, which recognizes seminary alumni who have demonstrated exemplary ministries as a symbol of the multitudes of graduates who serve faithfully wherever they are called. 90 Jennifer Carlson moved back to Washington, D.C., in fall 2011. In December 2013, she accepted a position with Evolent Health as director of technical project management for data warehouse client implementations. She was in Italy for 10 days this past October. Summer 2014 35 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES 89 Brynn (Mundahl) Watson was honored by Lockheed Martin with a 2013 Full Spectrum Leadership NOVA Award. The company grants the NOVA Award to select employees who have made outstanding contributions to customers, business, and strategic goals. In a workforce of more than 115,000, only 58 awards were granted in 2013. in income. As part of his award, Thrivent Financial will donate $5,000 in his name to VEAP, and he will be recognized at a national conference in front of his peers. 89 Devoney Looser has taken a position as professor of English at Arizona State University. She and her husband, George Justice, are Jane Austen scholars and were featured in a chapter of Deborah Yaffe’s book, Among the Janeites: A Journey Through the World of Jane Austen Fandom. 90 Alex Gonzalez, a member of the Augsburg College Board of Regents, received the 2013 Thrivent Financial “Volunteer of the Year” award for work in his community. Gonzalez is one of three financial representatives recognized for community involvement and generosity out of the more than 2,400 Thrivent Financial representatives nationwide. Gonzalez works with Volunteers Enlisted to Assist People (VEAP), an organization with service programs that help alleviate the financial stress that low-income individuals and families face as the result of unexpected expenses or lapses Beth (Josephson) Cronk completed the master of library and information science degree through the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee in December. She is the Meeker County librarian for Pioneerland Library System. 01 Carrie (Lind) Cabe earned a master of arts degree with a community education administration emphasis from the University of St. Thomas in 2013. She is the community resources and adult involvement coordinator for Edina Public Schools Community Education. 08 Sara Horishnyk is enrolled in the arts and cultural management graduate program at St. Mary’s University of Minnesota. 06 Maureen Parker Marrandino with her husband, Martin Marrandino, and son, Cyrus, welcomed daughter Penelope Carol on January 11. 06 Sara Schlipp-Riedel and Aaron Riedel ’07 welcomed daughter Charlotte Elizabeth on New Year’s Eve 2013. 10 In April, Roxanne (Johnson) Nelson accepted a new job as a rebate assistant at Donaldson Company in the engine aftermarket rebate program. 68 Augsburg Now Maja Lisa FritzHuspen was married May 25, 2013, to Don Roupe. Auggies from the Class of 2004 attending included Adam Nugent, Carolina (Chiesa) Nugent, and Jennifer (Holm) Schmitt. FritzHuspen is selfemployed as an opera singer and voice teacher. 93 In February, a Rotary Club in Loveland, Colo., honored Earl Sethre with its Citizen of the Year Award. The award recognizes a non-Rotarian in the community who lives out the four-way test, which asks the questions: Is it the truth? Is it fair to all concerned? Will it build good will and better friendships? Will it be beneficial to all concerned? Sethre stood out to the selection committee because of his charitable work and the number of groups he serves. 36 04 09 Abby Ferjak married Becca Seely on September 1 at Yale Divinity School in New Haven, Conn. Attendants included Bethany Hellerich, Stephanie (Holman) Hubbard, and Kayla Skarbakka, Augsburg College alumnae from the Class of 2009. 12 Alison (Witt) Ellertson married Cory Ellertson ’11 in June 2013. Four Auggies pictured at the wedding are [L to R]: Ashley Kappes ’11, Alison, Cory, and Brittany Rueb ’11. AUGGIE SNAPSHOTS ALUMNI CLASS NOTES Beth Franklin was featured in a Star Tribune article in which she described how her studies led her to a “dream job” as a Certified Public Accountant at a firm serving writers, artists, and musicians. At Augsburg, Franklin had a double major in music business and accounting. The article quoted her as saying, “I thought I’d work in international business or for Sony in New York. The first day of class, the professor said, ‘Accounting is the most fun you could have with a pencil.’ I took my first test and aced it. I decided, ‘I like this.’” 09 06 While at Augsburg, Kasey Yoder started coaching youth hockey and has seen his hard work pay off. During 2013-14, his first year at Orono (Minn.) High School, he took his team to the state hockey tournament. He also was selected Section 2A Coach of the Year. Yoder says one of the most exciting challenges in coaching high school hockey is keeping the kids focused, especially with everything else they have going on in their lives. Yoder works to help young people find balance while still being committed to success at the arena. WE ARE CALLED. AUGGIES. Andrew Kent served as goalie coach for the Finland women’s hockey team during the 2014 Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia. A goalie for the Augsburg men’s hockey team from 2005 to 2009, Kent turned his love of hockey into a profession and serves as a director of goaltender development for MEGA Goaltending, a Twin Cities-based development center for hockey goalies. He also has served as a volunteer goalie coach for the University of Minnesota’s women’s hockey team for the past four seasons, which led to his role on the Finland coaching staff for the Olympics. 09 14 GRADUATE PROGRAMS While studying elementary education at Augsburg, Josh Thelemann founded a nonprofit organization that takes at-risk kids off the streets and provides programs that give them a fair shot. He named it SOS (Saving Our Schools). RESOURCE promoted Heidi Kammer ’00 MSW from director of its center for recovery services to vice president of chemical and mental health. She is regarded highly by her peers and has a passionate commitment to RESOURCE’s mission of reducing the disparities experienced by the people they serve. Once functioning as two separate divisions, RESOURCE’s chemical and mental health programs are in the process of being integrated. Susie Schatz ’09 MSW was named director of advocacy and volunteer services for St. Paul-base
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Title: Augsburg Now Fall 2014: Learning Without Limits
Collection: Alumni Magazine Collection
Search Result: Study abroad shapes lives 24 hours on campus Homecoming 2014 An Auggie shines on screen LEARNING WITHOUT LIMITS FALL 2014 | VOL. 77, NO. 1 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of Marketing Communication Kat...
Show more Study abroad shapes lives 24 hours on campus Homecoming 2014 An Auggie shines on screen LEARNING WITHOUT LIMITS FALL 2014 | VOL. 77, NO. 1 INSIDE AUGSBURG NOW Vice President of Marketing and Communication Rebecca John ’13 MBA rjohn@augsburg.edu Director of Marketing Communication Kathy Rumpza ’05 MAL rumpza@augsburg.edu NOTES FROM PRESIDENT PRIBBENOW Semper reformanda—the gift of reformation I am writing these notes on Reformation Day— October 31—the occasion on which we celebrate the legacy of our Lutheran Christian tradition and the ways in which that legacy has shaped the sort of college Augsburg has become. There are many gifts of our Lutheran heritage that are worth noting—the concept of vocation, our commitment to serve the neighbor, the call to critical and humble inquiry—but these days I’m especially focused on the gift of semper reformanda, the reminder that we must always be open to change, to reform, and to imagining better ways to do God’s work in the world. A year ago, the Augsburg College Board of Regents affirmed our strategic plan, Augsburg2019, with its bold vision that we will be “a new kind of student-centered urban university, small to our students and big for the world.” (To review the plan, go to augsburg. edu/Augsburg2019.) And then they charged the Augsburg community—faculty, staff, students, and alumni—with the work of making our vision a reality. That is the meaningful and urgent work we are now pursuing on campus and in the world. As we undertake this important work, we are keeping the gift of semper reformanda firmly in mind as a lens for deciding how we will achieve our vision. Across campus and beyond, we are thinking about how we can be innovative and entrepreneurial. Three simple ideas are guiding our thinking and action: • We innovate out of abundance, the belief that we can do more together than we can do alone. We share our individual gifts so that the good of all might be served. • We innovate in community, the sense that there is wisdom and experience within our community that needs to be engaged to ensure a vibrant future for Augsburg. • We innovate for the world, affirming that what we do as a college ultimately serves our call to serve the neighbor. In these three ideas—innovation out of abundance, in community, and for the world—we have the markers of our daily life at Augsburg. In this issue of Augsburg Now, you see glimpses of this innovation in all corners of our community. Start with the remarkable work of staff photographer, Stephen Geffre, whose photodocumentary of 24 hours in the life of Augsburg reminds us of all the gifts we enjoy as a community. Celebrate with us the various recognitions and awards we have received as a college—research and cultural grants, top rankings for our academic and co-curricular programs, 40 years of music therapy, 30 years of the Augsburg Associates, and fundraising success on many fronts! And then listen to the voices of Auggies on campus and around the world—young alumni, Auggie football players, our 2014 Homecoming alumni award recipients, and alumni from our global education programs; you’ll hear the poetry of a college community boldly moving toward its 150th anniversary, faithful to its heritage and at the same time relevant to the needs of the world. Finally, please take a moment to review our annual report to alumni and donors—as well as our results from the November 13 Give to the Max Day. I am deeply grateful for all of you who have joined with us to support the important work of our college. May semper reformanda be our rallying cry as we live into our ambitious vision. Faithfully yours, PAUL C. PRIBBENOW, PRESIDENT Director of News and Media Services Stephanie Weiss weisss@augsburg.edu Communication Copywriter and Editorial Coordinator Laura Swanson swansonl@augsburg.edu Creative Associate Denielle Johnson ’11 johnsod@augsburg.edu Marketing Copywriter Christina Haller haller@augsburg.edu Photographer Stephen Geffre geffre@augsburg.edu Production Manager/Now Online Mark Chamberlain chamberm@augsburg.edu Advancement Communication Specialist Jen Lowman Day dayj@augsburg.edu augsburg.edu Augsburg Now is published by Augsburg College 2211 Riverside Ave. Minneapolis, MN 55454 Opinions expressed in Augsburg Now do not necessarily reflect official College policy. ISSN 1058-1545 Send address corrections to: Advancement Services CB 142 Augsburg College 2211 Riverside Ave. Minneapolis, MN 55454 langemo@augsburg.edu Email: now@augsburg.edu fall 2014 AUGSBURG NOW Features 10 28 08 10 20 28 Annual report to donors Study abroad shapes lives BY CHRISTINA HALLER 24 hours on campus BY STEPHEN GEFFRE Homecoming 2014 Departments 16 20 inside front cover Notes from President Pribbenow 02 Around the Quad 07 It takes an Auggie 14 Auggies on the field 16 My Auggie experience 30 Auggie voices 31 Alumni news 36 Alumni class notes 44 In memoriam 14 30 On the cover Light from Lindell Library illuminates Augsburg College’s Minneapolis campus on a fall evening. See photos of the College throughout the 24 hours that make up a day: pages 20-27. All photos by Stephen Geffre unless otherwise indicated. AROUND THE QUAD 2014 Top 50 LGBT-friendly Colleges & Universities In 2014, Campus Pride recognized Augsburg as an institution where community members develop supportive and inclusive understandings related to gender identity and sexual orientation. Augsburg was featured on Campus Pride’s Top 50 LGBT-friendly list, which reflects various colleges’ and universities’ progress toward making their institutions welcoming to students who identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, intersex, and asexual. Augsburg was named among institutions that have achieved the highest ratings across all benchmarks for inclusive policies, programs, and practices. 2015 Military Friendly School Augsburg was named a 2015 Military Friendly® School, a list compiled through extensive research and a survey of more than 10,000 schools nationwide that are approved by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. Military Friendly Schools have gone above and beyond to provide transitioning veterans the best possible experience in higher education. Top 50 college for nontraditional-aged students Augsburg College was named one of 50 Top Colleges for Older Students by BestColleges.com. Augsburg was listed at No. 9—making it the highest ranked Minnesota college—and was recognized for its hybrid learning format, percentage of students older than age 25 (31 percent), and schedule flexibility. Winds of Change magazine recognizes Augsburg The American Indian Science and Engineering Society’s Winds of Change magazine selected Augsburg as one of the Top 200 Colleges for Native American and Alaska Native students pursuing degrees in science, technology, engineering, and math. Augsburg was one of only five Minnesota institutions to make the list, which was published in a special college issue designed to inform and inspire college-bound students. 2 Augsburg Now Augsburg College’s commitment to interfaith and community service work was nationally recognized in October when the College was named one of five finalists in the United States for the prestigious 2014 President’s Higher Education Community Service Honor Roll. More than 500 schools competed for this prominent national award that celebrates outstanding achievements in and commitment to interfaith and community service work. AUGSBURG N OW This past summer, Augsburg Now staff invited Augsburg College alumni AN ACTIVE EDUCATION and friends to provide feedback on the publication. Participants responded to the Council for Advancement and Support of Education Readership Survey, which offers the opportunity to compare Augsburg survey results with those acquired at more than 250 other institutions. If you were one of the survey participants, thank you! Your responses will help guide Augsburg Now content planning in the future. Look for an overview of the survey findings in the Spring 2015 magazine. The Class of 2014 refl ects Grants gain ground Spotlight on research Faithful and relevant 3 “Best in the Midwest” Augsburg College was designated a “Best in the Midwest” institution in the annual U.S. News & World Report rankings. Augsburg’s ranking was 23 in the Regional University Midwest category. This is up from 2013, when Augsburg ranked 26. SUMME R 2014 | VOL. 76, NO. 2014 AUGSBURG A FINALIST FOR NATIONAL INTERFAITH AWARD INSIDE COLLEGE AWARDS BOARD OF REGENTS WELCOMES NEW CHAIR AND MEMBERS Dr. Paul S. Mueller ’84, staff consultant and chair, Division of General Internal Medicine at Mayo Clinic, was elected chair of the Augsburg College Board of Regents at its May 2014 meeting and began his term July 1. Mueller will play a key leadership role in Augsburg’s planning and fundraising initiatives. In addition, the Augsburg Corporation, at its annual September meeting, elected four new members to the Board of Regents and re-elected five members. Dr. Paul S. Mueller ’84 Elected to their first term on the Augsburg Board of Regents: • Diane Jacobson is professor emerita of Old Testament at Luther Seminary, where she taught from 1982-2010. She serves as the director of the Book of Faith Initiative for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and on the advisory board of Augsburg College’s Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation. Diane Jacobson • Dr. Steve Larson ’72 is chief executive officer and chairman of the board of Riverside Medical Clinic, a multi-specialty medical practice in Riverside, Calif., where he oversees 130 health care professionals. • Earl Sethre ’68 is vice president and part owner of Jorgensen Laboratories, a veterinary instruments company in Loveland, Colo. • Dean Sundquist ’81 serves as chair and chief executive officer of Mate Precision Tooling, a Minnesota business with offices in Belgium, China, the Czech Republic, Germany, Malaysia, Mexico, and the United States. Dr. Steve Larson ’72 Elected to a second or third term: • Toby Piper LaBelle ’96, senior vice president of Northland Securities in Minneapolis • André J. Lewis ’73, director of marketing and community affairs and president of the RBC Dain Rauscher Foundation Earl Sethre ’68 • The Honorable LaJune Thomas Lange ’75, former Fourth Judicial District Court Judge for the State of Minnesota and Honorary Consul for the Republic of South Africa in Minnesota • David L. Tiede, president emeritus and professor of New Testament at Luther Seminary • Norman W. Wahl ’76, executive pastor of Bethel Lutheran Church, Rochester, Minn. Ann Svennungsen, bishop of the Minneapolis Area Synod, and Rick Hoyme, bishop of the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin, were appointed ex-officio to a three-year term. Dean Sundquist ’81 Fall 2014 3 AROUND THE QUAD Faculty grants National Science Foundation grants support hands-on student research experience Nancy Steblay, professor of psychology, has been awarded $134,219 from the National Science Foundation for a project investigating eyewitness identification errors (NSF SES-1420135). Augsburg College will receive funding over the next three years as part of a collaboration with Iowa State University. Researchers will conduct laboratory experiments using police investigation data and audio files to test theoretical ideas related to lineup bias, witness confidence statements, and more. This project will provide hands-on research experience for up to 18 Augsburg undergraduate students.* Mark Engebretson, professor emeritus of physics, was awarded a three-year, $396,635 grant to continue collaborative research regarding the magnetosphere and ionosphere, areas of the Earth’s space environment. The project extends a long-standing relationship with the University of New Hampshire and aims to further the scientific community’s understanding of geospace phenomena and improve the capability to forecast and characterize major space weather events. Such events may cause disruptions in electronic communications, degrade the accuracy of GPS technology, disable satellites, and damage the electrical power grid. The funds from Federal Award ID Number PLR-1341493 will support research training for up to six Augsburg undergraduate students over the project period.* Chemistry professor to collaborate on Department of Energy research David Hanson, assistant professor of chemistry, is collaborating with Colorado State University to develop computer models that more accurately represent the growth rates of particulate matter suspended in the Earth’s atmosphere. By synthesizing research data from new laboratory experiments as well as past observations, the research team will establish an understanding of the mechanisms of nanoparticle growth. These results will then be integrated into models to assess the role of new particle formation on the Earth’s climate. This research is made possible by a grant through the Department of Energy (Award Number DE-SC0011780). Over the next three years, Augsburg College will receive $79,705 to support Hanson’s research activities. Additionally, this project will provide hands-on research training for an undergraduate student.** **Editor’s note: This material was prepared as an account of work sponsored by an agency of the United States Government. Neither the United States Government nor any agency thereof, nor any of their employees, makes any warranty, express or implied, or assumes any legal liability or responsibility for the accuracy, completeness, or usefulness of any information, apparatus, product, or process disclosed, or represents that its use would not infringe on privately owned rights. Reference herein to any specific commercial product, process, or service by trade name, trademark, manufacturer, or otherwise does not necessarily constitute or imply its endorsement, recommendation, or favoring by the United States Government or any agency thereof. The views and opinions of authors expressed herein do not necessarily state or reflect those of the United States Government or any agency thereof. Russian Academy of Sciences honors Augsburg physics professor The Institute of Physics of the Earth, part of the Russian Academy of Sciences, honored *Editor’s note: Any opinions, findings, and conclusions or recommenda- Professor Emeritus Mark Engebretson with the Otto Schmidt Medal Award. Engebretson tions expressed in this material are those of the author(s) and do not was recognized for his fruitful and sustainable collaboration with Russian researchers necessarily reflect the views of the National Science Foundation. in space physics and planetary geophysics. For more than 30 years, he has conducted research at Augsburg College and has gathered data using ground-based observatories located at high latitudes in Arctic Canada, in Scandinavia, and in the Antarctic. This research has garnered more than $2.2 million in grant funding since 2008. During his career at Augsburg, Engebretson has been awarded nearly $10 million in grant funding. 4 Augsburg Now Augsburg professors’ books GAIN ACCLAIM Sweetness #9 Augsburg Assistant Professor and Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing mentor Stephan Eirik Clark has garnered a great deal of media attention since his debut novel, “Sweetness #9,” received publicity on “The Colbert Report” as part of host Stephen Colbert’s effort to raise awareness of and interest in new novels. “Sweetness #9” is a comic satire, family story, and profound examination of cultural anxieties. LIGHTS, CAMERA, AUGGIE! More than a dozen Augsburg College students took part in prestigious off-campus research opportunities during summer 2014. Promise Okeke ’15, an Auggie biology major, interned and researched at Harvard Medical School’s Stem Cell Institute. The institute released a video in which Okeke described his experiences growing up with malaria, his departure from his home country of Nigeria to study at Augsburg, and his determination to make an impact on the malaria epidemic. At the Harvard Stem Cell Institute, Okeke networked with Harvard entrepreneurs and professors as he began to explore the business side of health care. To watch the Harvard Stem Cell Institute video, go to augsburg.edu/now. The Nazi and the Psychiatrist: Hermann Göring, Dr. Douglas M. Kelley, and a Fatal Meeting of Minds at the End of WWII Augsburg Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing mentor Jack El-Hai recently won the Minnesota Book Award for General Nonfiction for his book, “The Nazi and the Psychiatrist: Hermann Göring, Dr. Douglas M. Kelley, and a Fatal Meeting of Minds at the End of WWII.” El-Hai’s book tells the story of the remarkable relationship between U.S. Army Psychiatrist Capt. Douglas M. Kelley and the elite of the captured Nazi regime, particularly Hermann Göring. El-Hai was interviewed about this work for a History Channel program set to air next year. Cedar-Riverside neighbors launch program A $200,000 grant awarded to Augsburg College and The Cedar Cultural Center is supporting a program to build cross-cultural awareness, knowledge, and understanding of Somali culture through music. The grant will be used to launch a first-of-its-kind, two-year project titled, “Midnimo: Music for Unity, Campus, and Community.” Through Midnimo, the Somali word for “unity,” Augsburg students, Cedar-Riverside residents, and the general public will engage in a series of educational and experiential events. One of only six grants of its type presented in the U.S., the award was made as part of the highly competitive Building Bridges: Campus Community Engagement grant by the Association of Performing Arts Presenters funded by the Doris Duke Charitable Foundation and the Doris Duke Foundation for Islamic Art. Fall 2014 5 AROUND THE QUAD CONVOCATION SERIES 2014-15 First held in 1990, the Augsburg College Convocation Series is an annual speaker series that incorporates longstanding endowed and special programs. This fall, the series kicked off with the Bernhard M. Christensen Symposium featuring The Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber and her presentation, “The spirituality of being a total screw-up.” Bolz-Weber is the pastor of House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver and the author of The New York Times best-selling book “Pastrix” and the blog “Sarcastic Lutheran.” Compiled by Mark Chamberlain In October, the Center for Counseling and Health Promotion Convocation welcomed Rick Hanson, PhD, neuropsychologist and senior fellow of the Greater Good Science Center at the University of California, Berkeley, in Berkeley, Calif. The theme of his presentation was based on The New York Times best-selling book, “Hardwiring Happiness: Turning Passing Experiences into Lasting Inner Strength and Peace.” SAVE THE DATE The 27th annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Convocation Join us on Monday, January 19, at 1 p.m. in Hoversten Chapel, Foss Center, for a celebration honoring one of the United States’ visionary civil rights leaders. Learning at Augsburg College is more than textbooks and tests. Augsburg is committed to helping students discern and live their vocations and to inspiring them to explore their gifts and passions. This year, the College’s efforts garnered a boost when the nonprofit Great Lakes Higher Education Guaranty Corporation awarded Augsburg $150,000 to fund paid internships during the 2014-15 academic year. As one of 10 Minnesota colleges to receive a grant award from Great Lakes, Augsburg has used the funds to form new partnerships with for-profit corporations and nonprofit organizations offering internships that support learning on and off campus. Courtesy photo STROMMEN SPEAKERS SERIES The Clair and Gladys Strommen Executive Speakers Series at Augsburg College, which brings local business leaders to campus to share their insights and expertise, kicked off in November with Stan Hubbard, chairman and CEO of Hubbard Broadcasting, Inc., and his presentation, “Success from any angle: Lessons learned from a lifetime in broadcasting.” The series continues in February with CEO of PadillaCRT, Lynn Casey. 6 Augsburg Now IT TAKES AN AUGGIE AUGGIES GIVE GIVE TO THE MAX DAY: AUGSBURG COLLEGE CELEBRATES A FIRST-PLACE FINISH TWO YEARS IN A ROW On November 13, Augsburg College celebrated a record day of giving through its participation in Give to the Max Day. A one-day online giving event, Give to the Max Day is a contest among Minnesota nonprofits in which donors support their favorite organizations and schools. Augsburg competed in the “Colleges and Universities” category and, for the second time, raised more money than any other Minnesota college or university. The College also set a one-day giving record—more than 1,300 donors gave more than $430,000 to Augsburg in 24 hours. Because of the College’s first-place finish, Augsburg also received a prize of $17,500 from GiveMN, the parent organization of Give to the Max Day. Like last year, faculty, staff, and alumni developed projects to raise funds for 34 different departments across campus—from biology to women’s lacrosse. Donors were able to give to a fundraising project close to their hearts—and, in many cases, supported multiple projects. Augsburg students got in on the fun, too. Christensen Center was abuzz with activity as students helped spread the word and thanked donors via social media. Students recruited their friends to give and watched the results throughout the day. The generosity continued off-campus as donors gave from 45 states and as far away as Colombia, Norway, and Scotland. Thanks to the alumni, parents, students, and friends who made this year’s Give to the Max Day a success! Fall 2014 7 Augsburg College 2013-2014 ANNUAL REPORT TO DONORS Thanks to the generosity of our donors, Augsburg College’s total fundraising for fiscal 2013-2014 was $14,619,536, marking the third year in a row in which gifts to the College exceeded $10 million. The philanthropy of more than 4,600 donors this past year has helped Augsburg attract talented students and the dedicated faculty and staff who teach and guide them. These gifts provide financial aid, building and maintenance support, and instructional and other resources that allow Augsburg to provide a quality education to nearly 3,500 students of diverse backgrounds. Your gifts help Augsburg educate future thinkers, stewards, leaders, and citizens of our world. Here are just three of the outstanding Auggies whom your generosity helps support. Malia Thao ’16 is studying accounting and finance. Originally from St. Paul, Thao received the Gary Tangwall Scholarship. Steven Saari ’15, a special education and English double major from Princeton, Minn., received the Dagny Christensen Scholarship. 8 Augsburg Now The Robert and Joyce (Engstrom) Spector Scholarship was awarded to Kristine Volz ’16, a chemistry major from Blue Earth, Minn. REVENUE BY SOURCE Tuition 69% Room and board 12% Private gifts and grants 11% Government grants 4% Other sources 4% EXPENSES BY CATEGORY Salary and benefits 43% Financial aid 28% Operating expenses* 17% Equipment and capital improvements 4% Debt service 3% Utilities and insurance 3% Student salaries 2% *Expenses in this category include: facility repairs and maintenance, information technology expenditures, marketing expenditures, membership dues and fees, outside consultants, supplies, and travel and business meetings. $38.3 $33.3 $32.4 $31.5 $25.4 2004 $29.8 $28.2 $27.2 $27.8 $24.5 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 ENDOWMENT MARKET VALUE May 31, 2014 $38,330,460 $34.6 2014 As of May 31, 2014, Augsburg had annual realized and unrealized gains of 10.9 percent on the Augsburg College endowment. The five-year average annual return on the endowment is 8.53 percent and the 10-year average annual return is 4.45 percent. The College is committed to maintaining the value of the principal in order to provide support to the College in perpetuity. (IN MILLIONS) Visit augsburg.edu/giving/report for our 2014 Honor Roll of Donors. Fall 2014 9 STUDY ABROAD SHAPES LIVES OF MEANING AUGGIES FIND THEIR CALLINGS IN THE FAR REACHES OF THE WORLD BY CHRISTINA HALLER CENTER FOR GLOBAL EDUCATION AND EXPERIENCE SINCE 1982 and with locations in Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Mexico, Namibia, and Nicaragua, Augsburg has provided thousands of people cross-cultural educational opportunities that foster critical analysis of local and global conditions and challenge students’ perceptions about global justice and human rights. Nationally recognized with various awards for its 10 Augsburg Now ties, the center most recently won a 2014 award for Best Practices in International Education Exchange from NASPA: Student Affairs Administrators in Higher Education. NASPA seeks to recognize domestic and international colleagues and institutions for exceptional work related to international higher education. Courtesy photo the United States and from 300 educational institutions have studied abroad in more than 40 countries through Augsburg College’s Center for Global Education and Experience. Nearly 80 percent of those—now living and working throughout the globe—credit their study abroad experience with having a strong impact on their work lives. It’s accepted as common wisdom that studying in another culture yields recognizable benefits including personal growth, intercultural development, foreign language improvement, and the formation of friendships. Less well explored is how being immersed in another culture plays a role in helping people discern their callings and find employment within their vocation. This past spring, the center conducted a survey to gather data about its programs, specifically the impact of programs on the personal and professional lives of participants. The survey found that 79 percent of summer and semester program alumni feel their experience abroad has had a strong effect on their ability to secure employment after graduation. To find out how studying abroad influences the lives of its participants, we talked to Auggie alumni about their experiences, how studying abroad helped shape their careers and lives, and what they would like current students to take away from it all. work in experiential and educational travel opportuni- Courtesy photo More than 10,000 people from across MEET OUR EXPERTS ERIC CANNY Eric Canny is the dean of global education at Augsburg College. Prior to joining Augsburg, he was executive director of International Learning at Stetson University in DeLand, Fla. He has held international leadership positions at the University of North Texas in Denton, Texas. He received his bachelor’s in fine arts and master’s in education from New York University in New York City. He is completing his doctorate in global executive leadership with a focus on higher education at the University of Southern California, Rossier’s School of Education in Los Angeles. BRUCE SHOEMAKER ’81 Courtesy photo Bruce Shoemaker, a metro-urban studies and sociology major, studied in Cuernavaca, Mexico, in 1980. This experience led to more than 30 years of international development work in Southeast Asia where he has focused on natural resource conflict issues by helping local communities resist the loss and exploitation of their land, rivers, and forests by outside investors and companies. STEPHEN HINDLE ’89 Stephen Hindle, a history major, studied in Cuernavaca, Mexico, and in Nicaragua and Honduras during 1988. Today, he is the director of Asia Pacific at Pearson Clinical and Talent Assessment where he oversees staff across five countries, developing models to explain talent management issues for clients and also developing and executing solutions to solve organizational problems. Auggies discover their calling around the globe IN A STUDY BY THE INSTITUTE FOR THE INTERNATIONAL EDUCATION OF STUDENTS, two-thirds of 17,000 alumni surveyed credit their education abroad with influencing their lives by opening up an interest in or passion for another culture. It’s that passion that leads students to lifelong careers in global work. “You should follow your passion,” Eric Canny, Augsburg dean of global education, confirmed. “I always say I ‘fell into’ global [education]. But I think it’s critically important for students’ academic and personal growth to study abroad.” Bruce Shoemaker ’81 believes that not only does studying abroad create an interest in global work, but it also helps graduates obtain that work. “Having international experience lets employers know that you have challenged yourself; that you have stepped outside of your comfort zone—done something innovative, creative, and new,” he said. “It is one of those things that allows you to broaden your perspectives and—in my case—bring about social change.” That experience helps students to get ahead in life, too. “Never stop asking questions…recognizing assumptions, evaluating arguments, and drawing the correct conclusions,” Stephen Hindle ’89 said. “I learned this through my experiences studying abroad and that is why I have dedicated my life to teaching in one form or another.” So, we wanted to know, if studying abroad so dramatically shaped the lives of these Auggie alumni, what influence could it have on current and future college students’ career paths? We asked our experts. See their responses on pages 12-13. Fall 2014 11 Help support vocational discernment HOW STUDYING ABROAD CAN… “Studying abroad didn’t help me to discern my vocation, “As I studied and traveled through Mexico, Nicaragua, and Honduras, I realized that I WANTED it literally became my vocation. TO DO SOMETHING THAT WOULD HELP OTHERS I was just really into traveling, reach their goals and fulfill their potential.” –HINDLE and THE INTERNATIONAL WORK GRIPPED ME AND BECAME MY CAREER. “THERE OFTEN IS NO OTHER EXPERIENCE IN COLLEGE THAT WILL BE AS TRANSFORMATIONAL AS STUDY ABROAD. My participation…led to a WE NEED TO REACH STUDENTS WHO ARE NOT JUST lifelong interest in interna- INTERESTED IN A VACATION ABROAD, BUT IN THE SOCIAL tional development and justice JUSTICE FOCUS, WHO MAY NOT REALIZE WHAT ALL THEIR issues.” –SHOEMAKER OPPORTUNITIES ARE.” –CANNY “IT OPENED MY EYES TO THE WORLD outside of the United States. It made “I would challenge anyone to find a “STUDYING IN CUERNAVACA, MEXICO, WAS career that isn’t somehow global today. EYE OPENING—ESPECIALLY LEARNING It doesn’t matter what you do, there is probably somehow a global connection. Even if you don’t work in global—study- 12 ABOUT SOCIAL JUSTICE ISSUES ON AN INTERNATIONAL SCALE. WE LIVED WITH VERY POOR FAMILIES IN LOW-INCOME NEIGHBORHOODS AND GOT A GOOD UNDERSTANDING ing abroad helps students to gain those OF WHAT THEY WERE FACING, INCLUDING sought-after ‘soft skills’ that can apply THINGS LIKE INEQUALITY AND SOCIAL INJUS- to any major.” –CANNY TICE.” –SHOEMAKER Augsburg Now Ignite an interest in global work me realize that people around the world have similar desires and needs, and helped me understand that we can make a difference if we put our minds to it and work in a cooperative manner with the people living in the areas that need assistance.” –HINDLE Translate across cultures “Mexico [where I studied abroad] is certainly different culturally from Southeast Asia where I do my work, but I was able to develop the skills needed to RELATE TO PEOPLE WHO ARE DIFFERENT FROM MYSELF.” “Being a middle-class boy from a small town in Minnesota, I really had no understanding of other cultures. And yet, after all my travels around the globe, it still strikes me as fascinating how children play the same games, parents fear and rejoice over their children in similar ways, and WE ALL STRIVE FOR THE SAME THINGS.” –HINDLE –SHOEMAKER “PEOPLE WHO STUDY ABROAD KNOW HOW TO READ PEOPLE BECAUSE THEY’RE USED TO READING THE INTERPRETATION OF DIFFERENT CULTURES. IT’S ABOUT HAVING AN ‘OPENNESS TO THE OTHER.’ YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO ABROAD TO BE EXPOSED TO DIVERSITY. LOOK AT AUGSBURG’S INTENTIONAL DIVERSITY—INTERNATIONAL STUDENTS ON THIS CAMPUS HELP GIVE THE CLASSROOM A TRULY GLOBAL PERSPECTIVE.” –CANNY “I LEARNED RESPECT—for myself, I learned that life is not fair but that with hard work, a good idea, and luck you can sometimes turn things around. I learned that information is key—learn as much as you can about your surroundings.” –HINDLE study abroad usually have great interview skills; they know how to navigate complex situations; it can increase their sense of self worth and their survival skills.” –CANNY “ONE IMPORTANT SKILL I GAINED WAS CRITICAL ANALYSIS. WHEN LIVING IN ANOTHER CULTURE, YOU NEED TO DO A LOT OF REAL THINKING ABOUT WHAT YOU’RE BEING TOLD VERSUS WHAT THE REALITY IS. ADDITIONALLY, IT HELPED ME TO DEVELOP A CROSS- Develop skills for the workforce but more importantly for others. “STUDYING ABROAD IS REALLY CHALLENGING. Individuals who CULTURAL UNDERSTANDING, REFINE COMMUNICATION SKILLS, AND LEARN TO LISTEN TO PEOPLE AND PERSPECTIVES FROM OTHER CULTURES.” –SHOEMAKER Fall 2014 13 HERE WE STAND FOOTBALL TEAM EMBRACES OUR LUTHERAN HERITAGE Uniting members of a team is one of a coach’s biggest responsibilities and challenges; teams with cohesion amplify their success on and off the field. At Augsburg, football coaches Frank Haege and Mike Matson ’06 have articulated a shared vision that has struck a chord with their team and also honors the College’s heritage. Since Fall 2012, the team has embraced the motto, “Here we stand, we can do no other.” What’s unique about this motto is its historic and Lutheran roots. One day, Haege, head football coach, and 14 Augsburg Now BY KELLY ANDERSON DIERCKS Matson, assistant football coach and chaplain to student athletes, were talking about the history of Augsburg College and the Reformation. Matson explained the Augsburg Confession, a period in the 1500s when Martin Luther was put on trial for his religious stance—and ordered by Catholic leaders to recant his writings and criticisms of the Church. Luther’s response was that he could not and would not. “Here I stand, I can do no other,” Luther is reported to have said. Haege found this story so powerful that he assigned AUGGIES ON THE FIELD Matson the duty to serve as unofficial team historian. Matson was charged with sharing with the team’s players the history of each week’s opponent, including background on the school’s religious affiliation. At the first team meeting, Matson told the team that the “Here we stand” motto—a revision of Martin Luther’s words—is in the DNA of the College and that, as Auggies, the players are called to go forth boldly. Over time, the motto evolved. What began as a history lesson and locker room banner became a call and response by the third game of the 2012 season. In the locker room before the team ran out on to the field, Matson yelled, “Where do you stand?” and the team answered, “Here we stand.” The call and response went back and forth until the Auggies were motivated for victory. The team embraced this new segment of the pregame warm-up and has been doing the rouser ever since. For the coaches and players, the slogan is a way to articulate that, together, all are stronger on the field and in their daily lives. Haege said Matson is the perfect vehicle for this uniquely Augsburg message. “Mike is our motivation guy,” Haege said. “He has an unbelievable passion for [the College]. He’s a natural emotional leader—for Augsburg, for Lutheranism, and for our football program.” As an Augsburg student, Matson was a junior captain on the football team during Haege’s first season as head coach. Matson earned All-American honors and finished his Auggie career as one of the best linebackers in the College’s history. In 2011, Matson graduated from the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago and in 2012 was ordained by the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. He now serves his call through a joint position with Augsburg and Bethany Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. “Augsburg is a special place, and football is a microcosm of that,” Matson said. “Augsburg teaches students about being part of something bigger than yourself. Augsburg challenges students to be willing to be vulnerable, to be willing to stay out on the margins of life where the Gospel calls us.” The players certainly have bought in and the program is headed in a positive direction. The Augsburg football team finished with a 7-3 overall record in 2012—the debut season of the new team philosophy, which marked the team’s best finish since its 1997 MIAC Championship. The football program views its slogan as long-term. It’s about team. It’s about unity. And, it’s about what can happen when those two things come together. “I think we are tapping into something that transcends coaches, sports, and time. This motto ties us to our past,” Matson said. “It’s an identity that we can claim. An identity we can be proud of.” Fall 2014 15 MEET KUOTH WIEL MY AUGGIE EXPERIENCE BY LAURA SWANSON SHE’S AN ACTRESS. A MODEL. A HUMANITARIAN. AN AUGGIE. A nd, if you ask this Augsburg College alumna about her past few years, she’d likely add to the list of descriptors, “a person blessed by an enormous leap of faith.” During her final semester at Augsburg, Kuoth Wiel ’13 landed her debut film role in “The Good Lie,” a drama that tells the story of a family-like group of Sudanese refugees who are offered shelter in the United States more than a decade after militia attacks in their home country left them orphaned and homeless. While the characters themselves are fictional, the film is based on the experiences of thousands of real refugees—people sometimes dubbed the “Lost Boys of Sudan”—who immigrated to the U.S. in the thousands before Sept. 11 prompted authorities to suspend a resettlement program. As People magazine suggests, Reese Witherspoon is the film’s biggest name, but the real stars of “The Good Lie” are her castmates. In the movie, Wiel plays the character Abital, the 19-year-old sister of one of the Lost Boys. In reality, Wiel has personal ties to the conflict in Sudan. She was born in an Ethiopian refugee camp to Sudanese parents and lost her father at age 3 after he was killed while working as a United Nations medic in the Sudanese Civil War. She immigrated to the U.S. in 1998, spent her childhood in Faribault, Minn., and as a young adult moved to Minneapolis to attend Augsburg, study social psychology, and model part time. Today, Wiel calls West Hollywood, Calif., home. She has appeared in more publications and on more television shows since the film’s release at the 2014 Toronto International Film Festival than she can recall, and she’s driven to use her brush with stardom to serve her community and spread messages of hope and empowerment among people who have been displaced due to global conflict. Auggies on and off campus have followed Wiel’s personal storyline since she earned her movie star status, so we’re delighted to share a brief reflection on Wiel’s experience in her own words. All images on this page are courtesy of ©Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. Top left: A scene from “The Good Lie.” Top right: Film director Philippe Falardeau speaks with Kuoth Wiel (center) and her cast mates. Lower left: “The Good Lie” movie poster. Fall 2014 17 Q&A: MEET KUOTH WIEL ’13 Not all students at Augsburg or anywhere else, for that matter, receive the opportunity to act in a feature film. How did this come about? I have to give thanks to the power of social media. A friend of mine saw the opportunity to audition on his Facebook page and forwarded it to me. They were looking for Sudanese actors and actresses around the U.S. and around the world. I sent in my bio and then they sent me the script. I read it and fell in love. Then I sent in a video made on my MacBook of me going over my life; it was nothing professional. I didn’t hear back for a month, but [finally they said], “Okay, we want you to meet with the director.” A week later, I flew to Atlanta to rehearse with the cast, and that’s how it all began. When you decided to say “yes,” sign your contract, pack your bags, and head off to Atlanta, what did people say? I had already told my mother and my girlfriends. My mother—she was at first taken aback by it. She said, “Are you going to finish school? You only have one month left, so why are you going to leave school just like that?” I felt like I gave it to a higher power; I can’t control this. Luckily, I was in 18 Augsburg Now a position where I had finished all my exams, and I had finished everything except for my final essays for my seminar class. I was very fortunate to be in the position…where my teachers were very excited for me and allowed me to Skype to stay on track. It’s about knowing the background for each character; they made sure that we knew our story. The director really helped me in controlling my emotions and knowing when to remind me to call on my background as a refugee or recall something that I had lost in my life. Why do you think it was important for “The Good Lie” to cast Sudanese actors? How did your own life experiences allow you to relate to the character? It is the experience of being in a war. My character and I had parallel worlds but lived in different times. She was a Lost Girl; I was never away from my parents in that sense, but we share the same story of going through this traumatic event and wanting to leave it. It helped a lot. I mean the journey definitely put into perspective how far I have come from Sudan to Ethiopia and then to America. I didn’t remember it very well because I was a child, but now I know what this conflict was—it put into life the story of people who I can relate to. In the film you play Abital, who you mentioned was a Lost Girl. How did she fit into the storyline? Abital becomes a significant figure throughout the story in that [the Lost Boys] try to find her again because they are separated from her when they come to America. How did the director or other members of the film crew help you get into character and deepen your understanding of this person? What was a typical day like for you on the film set? Or, was every day completely different? You’re given a different scene each day…sometimes you wake up as early as 4 a.m., and sometimes you don’t [wake up] until noon. And, so, it all depends on what time they want to shoot. I’d wake up in the morning and then have a van come pick me up to go to set. Once you get there, they do the hair and makeup and the wardrobe and then, after that, you stay in your trailer until All images on pages 18-19 are courtesy of ©Warner Bros. Entertainment, Inc. Page 18: In this scene from “The Good Lie,” the characters learn they will be separated from one another in the United States. Page 19: Auggie Kuoth Wiel (center) is shown with Academy Award-winning actress Reese Witherspoon (right). they come get you to do the scene. Sometimes they give you a few hours [to] stay in your trailer and get into character. They didn’t want a lot of interaction with other actors there. It was important to make sure you just concentrate and get yourself physically and mentally ready for the next scene. Did you feel that “The Good Lie” was a job, or did you think, “How could this possibly be work?” For me, I felt like it was a job. Not a job in the sense where you show up and mechanically do things, but it was a job where you are responsible to give this character life like a real person. I felt like I owed that to this story. Sure, you get to meet cool people, but it was a responsibility for me to portray this person—to show the world how this person lived—and it was my responsibility to do it well. The best-known actress in this film is Reese Witherspoon. Were you pinching yourself when you met Reese? I love her. I think I was a little shocked. When you meet someone who you admire, it becomes a totally different experience. She was very nice, actually. She came and introduced herself to me, and we just talked. She’s very down to earth. Is acting something you want to pursue in the long run? Can you tell me about your vision for the future? I love it. Right now I’m exploring different realms of acting. I’m doing improv. I want to learn how to regulate my emotions in a better way so that I can do it in different scenes. I would really love to perfect [acting], that’s why I’m studying it in greater depth. What has been the most surprising aspect of working on “The Good Lie?” I would say the traveling. I traveled a lot. A lot. I literally lived in airports…I had to get used to adjusting to different situations and knowing what to bring, what not to bring, what to look out for, and stuff like that. And, when we went to South Africa, that was my first time back to Africa so that was a really good experience for me. I just felt that anywhere in Africa was home. Things have been busy for you the past couple of months—to say the least—but what do you hope to achieve through your humanitarian work in the future? Right now we are working on raising awareness. The producers have set up The Good Lie Fund, which you’ll find after the film—TheGoodLieFund.org. This raises money for people in the refugee camps right now. Our main priority is to raise money for aid. We’re also working with UNICEF. When we were in Nashville we sent a message for the kids who are [in refugee camps]. We talked about our own experience in the camps and tried to give people hope. An Augsburg education emphasizes that vocation is not simply finding a job but, instead, using your passions and talents to serve the world. How has this experience shaped your calling in life? I remember writing about that—initial thoughts on what I wanted to do—my senior year. I knew I wanted to give back to my community, but I also wanted to use [my vocation] as a message of empowerment for women because there are girls, like me, in refugee camps who probably don’t know that there’s a better life out there. I always tell people I came from a place where I thought there was nothing left. But, I’m here. So, for me, I think it’s to raise the message of hope for women. To see images from the Minnesota premiere of “The Good Lie,” go to augsburg.edu/now. Fall 2014 19 24 24 HOURS AT 2211 RIVERSIDE AVENUE A day in the life of Augsburg College For nearly 145 years, Augsburg College has been going about its work of creating thinkers, leaders, and world citizens in the heart of Minneapolis. This work isn’t confined to a typical 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. workday. The work stretches throughout the 24 hours that make up a day. This photo essay is a glimpse into the vibrant community of Augsburg and the neighborhood that shapes the work the College does in our world. (Editor’s note: All images in this story were taken from 4 a.m. to 11 p.m., September 22 and from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m., September 24.) 5:29 a.m. Abennut Tulu, custodian, starts his BY STEPHEN GEFFRE day at 5 a.m. in Kennedy Center when he grabs his custodial gear. Tulu, a recipient of a 2013-14 Outstanding Staff Award, makes his 6:19 a.m. first order of business getting the The lights on Edor Nelson Field still are off when Adam Maronde, Augsburg College third-floor classrooms cleaned, orga- strength and conditioning coach, calls out to members of the women’s hockey team: nized, and ready each day for faculty “Twenty seconds of rest, ladies.” The team is doing interval training. Players are bent and students. over, breathing hard. “Ten seconds, push yourselves to finish strong,” he says. “Five, four, three, two, one, go!” The student athletes bolt upright to do another wind sprint, wrapping up their early morning practice while most people on campus still slumber. 20 Augsburg Now 6:43 a.m. Groundskeeper Bruce Rowe, who retired in November after 31 years of service to the College, changes from street shoes to work boots. Rowe’s day will start in a few minutes when his student worker arrives and the two tackle cleaning the garbage chutes in each of the residence halls. 8:40 a.m. “Use your fingers to feel the edges of the vein. Now anchor the vein and quickly and confidently slide the needle in,” said alumnus Tom Towle ’14 (not pictured) to Rachel Johnsrud ’15 (left) as she practices a blood draw on classmate Kevin Hein ’15. Most blood draws that happen on campus are for blood drives, but this one is part of the Clinical Phase Transition course in the Master of Science in Physician Assistant Studies program. The CPT course combines classroom, laboratory, and clinical experiences for the students prior 7:51 a.m. Not-yet-caffeinated students wait in line for their morning coffee at to beginning the clinical phase of the program and completing 13 months of rotations. Einstein Bros. Bagels in Christensen Center. Classes start at 8 a.m. Fall 2014 21 10:03 a.m. “I think it is like this. What does this knob do? I think I just broke it!” Laughter erupts from Nia Ross ’17 (right), Nikki Whittaker ’17 (center), and Callie Jones ’17 (left) as the three women use, for the first time, this specific film gear. Ross’s film, “Best Friends,” is her directorial and screenwriting debut and will star Whittaker and Jones. 10:48 a.m. Augsburg College is one of only a few colleges in the United States that has time set aside each weekday for chapel. These 20 minutes a day offer attendees time to reflect on faith and to learn from members of the community. Seth Lienard ’11, Augsburg College senior event planner, addressed chapel attendees on the topic of coming home during Homecoming Week. Lienard was a recipient of a 2012-13 Outstanding Staff Award. 1:17 p.m. 11:56 a.m. Janet Morales, program manager of the College Access Large elm trees in the Quad cast dappled shadows across the Partnership, plucks a handful of potatoes from her plot heart of campus. The trees, each more than 60 years old, have in the Augsburg College community garden. The gar- been silent witnesses to a growing, changing campus. den, which has about 80 plots, is open to members of the Augsburg College community and Cedar-Riverside neighborhood. 22 Augsburg Now 2:20 p.m. Purple, yellow, yellow, purple, purple...Each color corresponds with a kernel on a cob of corn. The students in this genetics class, led by Matthew Beckman, assistant professor of biology, are recording the distribution of kernel colors to learn about genetic patterns of inheritance. 3:19 p.m. “Try holding your hands in the air, wiggling your fingers, and moving your body like a spooky tree blowing in the wind,” says Mark Sedio, a music instructor and director of the Cedar Singers. “Now sing the line again.” Incorporating movement into choral rehearsals enhances the singers’ delivery. 4:10 p.m. Students study and relax on the lawn of Old Main, which was built in 1901. Fall 2014 23 4:34 p.m. Upon his return from Washington, D.C., Augsburg College President Paul Pribbenow is greeted by his family’s dog, Auggie. Pribbenow was in the nation’s capital to attend the Fourth Annual President’s White House Forum on Interfaith and Community Service where the College was named a Presidential Awardee 6:47 p.m. finalist for this prestigious national award. “Cross away from him to stage right when he In 2010, Augsburg College won the Presidential Award for Community Service, the premier presidential award for community service work. starts the line. Now, try the scene from the top,” says Martha Johnson, professor of theater arts, as she directs students in rehearsals of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.” While the set still is under construction, Johnson, who has taught at the College for 26 years and 6:27 p.m. is retiring later this year, can envision how things As the late-summer sun starts to set, a student passes through the will look on opening day. Paulson Link that connects Lindell Library to Sverdrup Hall. 24 Augsburg Now 7:50 p.m. The Cedar-Riverside business district glows in the background while MBA students attend a marketing course. The class is led by Bill Arden, assistant professor of business. When Augsburg opened its doors in 1869, the College was in Marshall, Wis., and had only three professors. Today, with campuses in Minneapolis and Rochester, Augsburg College has 396 partand full-time faculty members. 9:40 p.m. Auggies gather on Edor Nelson Field for a screening of “22 Jump Street” on the new scoreboard. In addition to being used for community-wide events such as films on the 9:19 p.m. Intramural sports are about community, friends, and fun. Augsburg College’s co-ed volleyball games pit teams of six players against one another, and given the high use of the College’s athletic facilities by varsity teams and classes, it’s often the case that field, the scoreboard adds a fun dimension to home athletic games with video introductions of players and instant replay. In addition, Auggie student workers get hands-on skills programming and managing this top-notch technology. intramural teams take the court when other students start settling in for the night. Fall 2014 25 10:54 p.m. “It’s all over. We’re dead,” says Nywong Vang ’16 (right) to Siew Thao ’16 (left) while playing “League of Legends.” Their sparsely decorated dorm room on the main floor of Anderson Residence Hall doesn’t have a TV. But it does have four laptops, three fish tanks, and about 100 feet of network cables squiggling across the floor. Vang continues his gaming while Thao studies aspects of the game on the Internet. 12:28 a.m. “Incarnation” is a vibrant, stained glass window by August Molder, a refugee from Estonia who in the late 1960s was an artist in residence at the College. The window, best seen at night and from 11:44 p.m. the outside of Christensen Center, provides a brilliant contrast to the Ben Richer ’18 reaches for a ball after losing a monochromatic squares and rectangles of the building’s exterior. point to Nicole Logeais ’18 in their nightly game Molder has a scholarship named after him that is awarded annually of pingpong. The two are reported by their friends to an art student. to spend most evenings in the lobby of Mortenson Hall playing the game. 26 Augsburg Now 1:16 a.m. At all hours of the night, bright lights shine on the second floor of Science Hall. These grow lights sit over the biology department’s collection of “Wisconsin Fast Plants,” a variety of plants used as model organisms in many educational settings. The little green plant is used in biological research because it grows, well, fast—allowing faculty and students to conduct many experiments in just one semester. 3:05 a.m. During the course of a year, Department of Public Safety staff log thousands of miles at night patrolling the College’s 23-acre campus and sur- 24 rounding neighborhood. Many miles are covered by Officer David Wanstall. To see additional photographs taken during the 24 hours of this project, go to augsburg.edu/now. 4:52 a.m. In the early morning hours, even Interstate 94 is quiet and practially empty. But if you look closely, lights are on in Mortenson Hall as some students already are rising to greet another day. 24 HOURS AT 2211 RIVERSIDE AVENUE Fall 2014 27 HOMECOMING 2014 Thank you for joining us for our Homecoming 2014 celebration. We look forward to seeing you at next year’s events, October 8-10. If you are interested in serving on your alumni reunion committee or volunteering to help plan Homecoming 2015 events, contact alumni@augsburg.edu. The procession of the 2014 Hall of Fame inductees. ALUMNI AWARD RECIPIENTS First Decade Award Distinguished Alumni Award Honors an Auggie who graduated during the past 10 years and who exemplifies the mission of the College. Honors alumni in recognition of a significant achievement in their vocation; for outstanding contribution to church and community. VICTOR ACOSTA ’04 An Augsburg physics major, Acosta completed his PhD in atomic, molecular, and optical physics at the University of California, Berkeley, in 2011. He is a research engineer with Google X. “I want to thank the StepUP® Program… the McNair Scholars Program…and the Physics Department for some of my fondest memories.” Spirit of Augsburg Award Honors alumni and friends of the College who have given of their service to substantially impact the well-being of Augsburg’s mission and programs. JACQUIE BERGLUND ’87 Berglund, a political science and communications major, in 2000 founded Finnegans, a charitable beer company that donates 100 percent of its profits to programs that alleviate hunger. “This place—Augsburg College—really was where I found my calling and it was truly where I decided I wanted to make the world a better place.” GARRY HESSER Hesser is the Sabo Professor of Citizenship and Learning Emeritus at Augsburg and also teaches in the Master of Arts in Leadership and Honors programs. “If there’s been a theme, a set of gifts here at Augsburg…it’s been a sequence of being invited in.” MICHAEL R. GOOD ’71 After 36 years in real estate, Good became the national campaign chair for Augsburg’s Center for Science, Business, and Religion. His inspirational drive has created new momentum for this essential building. “It’s great to be called. And it’s great to be called an Auggie.” DEAN R. KENNEDY ’75 Kennedy, founder of Texakoma, one of the most respected small, private oil exploration companies in the United States oil and gas industry, continues to be one of Augsburg’s most generous supporters. “A common question that I get asked is, ‘How did a guy from Fridley get started in the oil business?’ and I say the seed was started right here at Augsburg College.” REV. MARK S. HANSON ’68 This fall, Hanson joined Augsburg as a Distinguished Fellow in the Bernhard Christensen Center for Vocation. He has served as presiding bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, president of the Lutheran World Federation, and pastor for three congregations. “The future of Augsburg depends on all of us encouraging our children and grandchildren…to root their lives in this community of learning and service.” reflection LIFE OF AUGGIE VOICES WEAVES GLOBAL OPPORTUNITY Mark Twain said that the two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why. On any given day, Josh Linde ’07 knows he was born to create love, joy, and opportunities for others. He’s doing exactly that today. As a dedicated family man. As a successful social entrepreneur. And as a cofounder of Ethnotek Bags, a socially responsible company that builds high-quality laptop and travel bags that feature ethically sourced handmade textiles. Linde will tell you that although the process of uncovering his vocation took twists and turns, it’s Augsburg College that deserves the credit for giving him the skills and practice to unearth where his gifts and talents meet the world’s needs. “My whole education at Augsburg could be subtitled, ‘Vocation.’ I learned to be meditative. Directional. I learned to write and reflect and repeat that practice many times,” Linde said. “This reflection and practice has informed every decision I’ve made since being at the College.” And he isn’t kidding. Linde feels tremendous pressure to make Ethnotek Bags a stable venture. Families and villages across the globe—in Ghana, Guam, India, Indonesia, and Vietnam—depend upon the company for a living and to help maintain their cultures. His ability to question deeply and reflect laid the foundation for what has become the nontraditional business practices that put the company’s global partners in the driver’s seat and that give Linde the assurance he’s living out his vocation Submit a Class Note by December 31 for the spring 2015 edition of Augsburg Now to be entered into a drawing to win Ethnotek’s Vietnam 5 Wayu Pack. Use the form on page 43 or go to augsburg.edu/alumni/connect. 30 Augsburg Now BY STEPHANIE WEISS to create opportunities for others. “We ask our partners what their time is worth and then we pay that price. We don’t negotiate lower prices, and we aren’t looking to reduce those costs,” Linde said. The company offers its partners a generous delivery time of 90 days, a bonus for on-time delivery, and a premium for early delivery. The extended delivery window is important for the company’s partners, many of whom work out-of-doors and can encounter significant weather-related work delays. But for Linde, it makes Ethnotek Bags’ approach all the more rewarding. In the end, each bag made and sold by the company is an individual and complex story with the power to maintain cultures and change lives for the company’s suppliers and customers. “Our bags have three layers of existence—utility, beauty, and as a living story,” Linde said. “When you own one of our bags, people ask about and reach out to touch the bag. Each bag creates a connection to and meaningful conversation about the people who made it.” “My whole education at Augsburg could be subtitled, ‘Vocation.’” —JOSH LINDE ’07 ALUMNI NEWS FROM THE ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT Dear alumni and friends, A s you may recall, President Pribbenow in the fall 2013 issue of Augsburg Now shared that the Augsburg College Board of Regents launched a strategic planning initiative in January of that year. The outcome of that work is a strategic vision statement that looks out to 2019, Augsburg’s sesquicentennial year: In 2019, Augsburg College will be a new kind of studentcentered, urban university, small to our students and big for the world. This vision statement calls for the College to build on its key strengths, which include experiential learning, academic excellence, and strong alumni networks. A core part of the College’s plan is being “At the Table” by providing opportunities that enable students to discover their gifts, discern their vocations, and open doors to careers. One of the College’s greatest resources—we, the alumni—could be playing an even more crucial role in achieving the College’s commitment to increase internship opportunities available to students and graduates. Such hands-on roles are increasingly essential for amplifying the campus learning experience and competing successfully for jobs after graduation. As alumni, we can provide students with opportunities and guidance that will prepare them for an important first step on their vocational journey. I had the pleasure of connecting with then-junior Gary Mariscal ’14 two years ago at the Student and Alumni Networking Event. It was my pleasure to talk with him during his interview process with National Sports Center, which led to his selection as a sports administration and event management intern. I also was able to connect him with Auggie alumni who have supported him in the process of finding meaningful work. More recently, I celebrated with Gary when he decided to accept a position as a baseball fellow at Augsburg College, a role that will allow him to pursue a graduate degree through the College’s Master of Arts in Leadership program, while gaining experience coaching and mentoring students. He is looking forward to the opportunity to continue to make a difference at Augsburg. Recently, the College community mourned the loss of two Augsburg legends, Ed Saugestad ’59 and Edor Nelson ’38. As I have reflected during the past year on the influence these coaches and educators have had on the lives of hundreds of students, and the legacy they created at the College, I’ve begun considering my own legacy and the influence I want to have as an alumni leader. I am not a legendary coach or a member of the faculty but I am a member of the Augsburg community and I, too, can make a difference. As alumni, we all can make a difference at Augsburg by participating in a student and alumni networking event, speaking in a classroom, representing your company at an Auggies Connect with Employers event, or posting a job or internship opportunity with Augsburg’s Clair and Gladys Strommen Center for Meaningful Work. Please join me in assisting current students on their vocational journey. It is one of the most important ways that alumni can ensure that Augsburg College and its students are “At the Table.” Sincerely, CHRIS HALLIN ’88, ALUMNI BOARD PRESIDENT P.S. Save the date for the next Student and Alumni Networking Event: Tuesday, February 10. Find out more at augsburg.edu/alumni. Augsburg College’s annual Student and Alumni Networking Event. Fall 2014 31 ALUMNI NEWS This summer, hundreds of Auggies of all ages gathered on Edor Nelson Field to celebrate the 100th birthday of legendary Augsburg College athlete, coach, and instructor Edor Nelson ’38, who led the Auggie football and baseball teams during a career that spanned four decades. His birthday festivities corresponded with the dedication of a new, state-ofthe-art video scoreboard in his honor. Ten days later, Edor passed away. He was honored in a memorial service on September 5. “Few people in Augsburg’s history could claim as long and lasting an impact on this college as Edor Nelson,” said Augsburg College President Paul Pribbenow. “He touched the lives of many here at Augsburg through his years as football coach, his years as baseball coach, and his support in building the wrestling and men’s hockey programs.” Augsburg Athletic Director Jeff Swenson ’79 said, “I’m so grateful that we had a chance to honor Edor on his 100th birthday. It’s an event that all of us in the Augsburg community will remember forever.” Bruce Nelson ’71, current president of Augsburg’s A-Club service organization, said that his father’s support of athletes extended far beyond the playing field and graduation. This is why lead donors for the scoreboard project, Dan ’65 and Alice Anderson, Rick ’74 and Nancy Colvin, Rick ’72 and Tammie Ekstrand, Harvey ’52 and Joanne (Varner) ’52 Peterson, Mark ’53 and Jean Raabe, Alan Rice, and many others, chose to donate to the project to honor their coach and mentor. Fundraising efforts for the new scoreboard have not yet met a $300,000 goal. To make a gift honoring Edor, contact Keith Stout, assistant vice president of major gifts, at 612330-1616 or stoutk@augsburg.edu. Donors to the scoreboard will be listed on a special plaque to be installed later this academic year. In his 100 years, Edor represented true Auggie spirit as a soldier, educator, father, husband, and coach. Consider honoring his legacy with a philanthropic gift to athletics that will positively influence Auggies of tomorrow. Join Augsburg College ON STAGE AT CARNEGIE HALL Peter Hendrickson ’76, Augsburg associate professor and head of choral activities, and members of The Augsburg Choir and the Masterworks Chorale will perform at New York City’s historic Carnegie Hall on March 22. Hendrickson has opened this performance opportunity to all choir alumni who would like to participate. Rehearsals for the concert begin in January and take place on Tuesday evenings from 7 to 9:45 p.m. in the choir room on the Minneapolis campus. Repertoire for Augsburg’s portion of the concert will be Eric Whitacre’s “Lux Aurumque” and Morten Lauridsen’s “Lux Aeterna,” performed with a full orchestra. Email hendricp@augsburg.edu for additional rehearsal and performance details. 32 Augsburg Now Ticket information will be posted on augsburg.edu/alumni. Augsburg alumni, parents, and friends are invited on a New York City tour to coincide with the performance. The March 19-23 trip will include a visit to Carnegie Hall to see The Augsburg Choir, an Augsburg alumni reception at Scandinavia House, local tours led by Augsburg professor and our resident NYC expert Joe Underhill, a Broadway play, and four nights at the Sheraton Manhattan Times Square. Contact tour leader Sally Daniels Herron ’79 for more information at 612-330-1525 or herron@augsburg.edu. ALUMNI STEP FORWARD with gifts to recognize Professor Emeritus of Chemistry Arlin Gyberg With graduates who have gone on to become research scientists, university professors and physicians, a biodiesel entrepreneur, Rhodes Scholar, and a Nobel Prize recipient, Augsburg College Professor Emeritus of Chemistry Arlin Gyberg’s legacy already reaches far and wide. Alumni are recognizing this long-serving and award-winning professor by giving gifts to name a Quantitative Analytical Chemistry Laboratory for Gyberg in the planned Center for Science, Business, and Religion. Steve ’72 and Catherine Larson launched this $250,000 initiative with a lead gift of $125,000. Steve, an infectious disease specialist and the CEO and board chair of Riverside Medical Clinic in Riverside, Calif., and one of the newest members of the Augsburg Board of Regents, still acknowledges Gyberg’s influence on his life and career after more than 40 years since graduation. “Arlin’s influence on my vocation and life cannot be measured,” Steve said, and he recognizes that the CSBR will influence the entire Augsburg College community. “A new building can bring new vitality,” he said. “I have seen it happen with our own medical group’s building. When we got a new building, it really enhanced our reputation. I think [the CSBR] will do the same for Augsburg.” The newest donors to join in honoring Gyberg are Jon ’68 and Sharon DeVries. The couple, who has already given $50,000 to the CSBR for faculty offices, is giving an additional $10,000 to honor Gyberg. Gyberg became a faculty member at Augsburg in 1967 during Jon’s senior year. While Jon never took a class with Gyberg, the two got to know each other when Jon worked in the research lab next to Gyberg’s office. “Arlin is energetic, practical, friendly, outgoing, and realistic,” said Jon, who is a respected chemist at General Mills and has been inspired by Gyberg’s impact on the College. Today Gyberg’s research focuses on environmental topics. He remains active in his research in areas as multi-faceted as catalytic systems to produce biofuels, active ingredients in energy drinks, over-the-counter children’s medicines, algae as a source of biodiesel and bioethanol, and the conversion of wood fibers to other useful chemicals. His consulting work includes serving Fortune 500 companies, such as 3M and Xcel Energy, and government and educational institutions. Donors to the Gyberg initiative are turning to fellow alumni to help raise the final $50,000 needed to fund the CSBR lab. If you are interested in joining fellow alumni to honor Gyberg, send your gift, marked Gyberg Initiative, to: Augsburg College, 2211 Riverside Avenue, CB 142, Minneapolis, MN 55454. For gifts of appreciated securities, life insurance, or bequests, contact Doug Scott at 612-330-1575 or scottd@augsburg.edu. Celebrating Lutheran heritage and the Reformation A custom Augsburg College travel program is being designed and planned to celebrate the 500th anniversary of when Martin Luther posted the 95 Theses on the church doors in Wittenberg, Germany, which marked the beginning of what became known as the Reformation. The tour will occur October 27 to November 6, 2016, and include a visit to Wittenberg on October 31, the date on which the town celebrates Reformation Day with a parade, medieval fair, special church service, and evening concert. The tour itinerary also includes stops in the German cities of Berlin, Dresden, Eisenach, Erfurt, and Leipzig, and in Prague, Czech Republic. Join Mark Tranvik and Hans Wiersma, Augsburg College religion faculty members and Reformation historians, in discovering the lives and ministries of Martin and Katie Luther and influential Lutheran musicians J. S. Bach and Paul Gerhardt. Learn about Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a 20th century German theologian and martyr, and Jan Hus, a 15th century Czech church reformer. Hear about the church’s role in the Peaceful Revolution that brought down the Berlin Wall and remember the sobering days of WWII at Buchenwald concentration camp. Explore the close connection among people, culture, and historical events, while understanding the Reformation as an ongoing influence in the 21st century. To receive updates about this alumni tour as plans are finalized, email alumni@augsburg.edu or call 612-330-1085 to be included on a mailing list. Fall 2014 33 ALUMNI NEWS DEPARTMENT OF MUSIC THERAPY CELEBRATES 40th anniversary, new master’s degree program, and dedication of an interactive musical plaza This fall, Augsburg College’s Department of Music Therapy commemorated the 40th anniversary of its undergraduate program with a celebratory dinner in Hoversten Chapel. Students, alumni, faculty, and staff gathered to hear from keynote speaker Alan Turry, the managing director of the Nordoff-Robbins Center for Music Therapy in New York City. Doug Schmitt, vice president of Minneapolis-based Schmitt Music Company, presided as master of ceremonies. Established in 1974 by Roberta Kagin, associate professor of music, the Department of Music Therapy provides students with a holistic approach to health care through music medicine. This year also marks the inception of the new Master of Music Therapy, the College’s ninth graduate degree program. The MMT program prepares students for careers in the growing music therapy field within hospitals, clinics, schools, and other organizations. The evening concluded with the dedication of the installation of three outdoor, interactive musical instruments, which will be known as the “Ode to Joy” Music Plaza. These instruments, located on the south side of the Charles S. Anderson Music Hall, serve as a reminder of the importance of music in everyday life and will be enjoyed by members of the campus community and beyond for years to come. BILL NYE ‘THE SCIENCE GUY’ SPEAKS AT AUGSBURG ON VALENTINE’S DAY Bill Nye “The Science Guy” will share his love for science when he speaks February 14 at Augsburg College’s Scholarship Weekend in an address that is open to the general public. Nye, who will talk about “How Science Can Save the World,” will speak with academic depth and humor about planetary science, climate change, evolution, 34 Augsburg Now environmental awareness, and more. “We’re excited to host Bill Nye during our Scholarship Weekend when bright students from across the United States visit campus to compete for our top academic scholarships,” said Augsburg College President Paul Pribbenow. “We want to give these scholarly, prospective Auggies the chance to grapple with some of the world’s deepest questions so they can experience what Auggies are called to do each and every day.” Last year, during the 2014 Scholarship Weekend, nearly 100 prospective students and the public had the opportunity to be challenged by deep questions of compassion and humanity posed in a talk by His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama. Nye, a mechanical engineer and seven-time Emmy Award winner as host and head writer of the “Bill Nye the Science Guy” program, will speak from 11:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., in Augsburg College’s Si Melby Gymnasium. Ticket information for Augsburg College alumni is posted online at augsburg.edu/now. CELEBRATE 1984… 1994… 2004… 2014 AUGGIES DEDICATION LEADSCHOLARSHIPS 30 Years! AUGSBURG ASSOCIATES AUGSBURG ASSOCIATES CELEBRATE 30 YEARS OF SERVICE A labor of love “It was a little mustard seed of an idea,” said Gladys (Boxrud) Strommen ’46, remembering the early days of the Augsburg College Associates, which this fall celebrated three decades of service to the College, resulting in about $1 million in total giving. From their earliest days, the Associates focused on making connections, hosting events to raise awareness of Augsburg, and providing fundraising and volunteer leadership. Between 1985 and 1996, Trash and Treasure Sales brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars for the College. Since then, the Associates have devoted countless hours to organizing, cleaning, pricing, and selling household items at estate sales that have raised funds for large-scale projects. [L to R]: Founding members: Stella (Kyllo) Rosenquist ’64, Catherine Anderson, Gladys (Boxrud) Strommen ’46. PRESIDENTS AND CO-CHAIRS AUGSBURG ASSOCIATES 1985 1986 1987-88 Associates’ gifts shape campus Gladys (Boxrud) Strommen ’46 Helga Egertson and Roselyn Krause Peg Arnason and Marianne Sander Take a walk around Augsburg’s Minneapolis campus, and you will see the impact of the Associates’ work on nearly every corner. Enjoy the sound of the Dobson Organ in Hoversten Chapel? You can thank the Associates’ $250,000 contribution for that. Walk through Christensen Center, and see the welcome desk, Augsburg Room, and Marshall Room, which were supported by the Associates. Down the street, the renovation of the Ailene Cole Green Room in Foss Center and the Special Collections Room in Lindell Library were made possible by the Associates’ generosity. And, when the new Center for Science, Business, and Religion opens, the Adjunct Faculty Suite will be named in recognition of the Associates’ $50,000 gift to the building. The Associates’ dedication and generosity also includes funding scholarships that total about $120,000. 1989 1997-03 Avis Ellingrod Krumkake and Bunads – the Associates’ hospitality 2003-04 Michelle (Karkhoff) Christianson ’91 2005-06 Lois (Richter) Agrimson ’60 In 1996, the Associates became involved with Augsburg’s annual open house, Velkommen Jul, a celebration of Norwegian culture replete with traditional foods—such as lefse and krumkake—and folk costumes—known as bunads. In 2010, the group started the Kaffe Stuga booth, providing traditional Norwegian coffee at the signature Taste of Augsburg event during Homecoming—as well as the annual Spring Tea. When Their Majesties King Harald V and Queen Sonja of Norway visited Augsburg in 2011, Associates wearing traditional Norwegian attire greeted Their Majesties. In 2012, the organization received the Spirit of Augsburg award. For 30 years, the Associates’ fellowship, fun-loving spirit, and dedication to the College have remained true. As current president Lennore Bevis ’69 said, “The whole attitude of our organization is members giving of themselves and serving the community.” Michelle (Karkhoff) Christianson ’91 and Marianne Sander 1990-93 Carla (Quanbeck) Walgren ’64 1993-95 Peg Arnason 1995 Maf Berg and Helga Egertson 1996 Helga Egertson and Avis Ellingrod 2007-10 Barbara (Beglinger) Larson ’63 2010-13 Joyce (Gustafson) Hauge ’63 2013-14 Lennore (Bylund) Bevis ’66 To read an extended story about the Augsburg College Associates, go to augsburg.edu/now. Fall 2014 35 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES 1958 Gwen (Johnson) Krapf is retired from her position as an associate in ministry with the ELCA and now enjoys beating the drum in the RTO (Really Terrible Orchestra) of Lehigh Valley, Pa. RTO members are musically challenged on certain instruments, but do their best and have a lot of fun in the process. The RTO is an international phenomenon that originated in Scotland, but there are only five such groups in the U.S. 1960 Lowell “Zeke” Ziemann’s third book, “Zeke’s Western Short Stories,” is now available on amazon.com. Legendary characters Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, and Wild Bill Hickok come alive in the historical stories. These adventures will entertain Old West fans and just about anyone who enjoys a good short story. work field. He has become very involved in Norwegian heritage and genealogy. Bill Chartrand resides in Anthem, Ariz., and stays busy volunteering, scuba diving, playing percussion, and singing with ProMusica Arizona. He plans to marry his partner of 25 years, Neil “Terry” Froyd. Laurene (Hjelmeland) Clarke retired from a career of teaching grades 1-8 in California, Nebraska, and South Dakota. As of this June, she will be married for 50 years to James E. Clarke, a Presbyterian pastor. They have three children. Dallas C. Day is still active in business and training his son to succeed him. He has four children, and resides in Vancouver, Wash., with his wife, Sharon (Porter) Day. REUNION 1964 Carolyn (Aadland) Allmon is married to Philip Allmon and works as a demand forecasting consultant. She is an organist and sings in Augsburg’s Masterworks Chorale. Andrew Berg is married to Jean (Amland) Berg ’65, and they have four children and eight grandchildren. He received his master of social work and has spent nearly 40 years in the social Avis (Hoel) Dyrud remains busy as an organist, pianist, and choir director at Our Saviour’s Lutheran in Thief River Falls, Minn. Her husband, Phil Dyrud, passed away in 2006 following a bone marrow transplant. She has five children and 22 grandchildren. Dennis J. Erickson has been married to the love of his life, Mary Lou (Ervin) Erickson, for more than 49 years, and has been a New Mexico resident for four decades. A retired physicist, he held positions at both Los Alamos National Laboratory and the University of California. He continues to be an active Lutheran layman at parish, synod, and regional levels. Margery (Kyvig) Haaland and her husband, Sheldon, have two daughters and live in Marshall, Minn. She serves on the Marshall Area Fine Arts Council, plays organ at St. Lucas Lutheran, and is active in the Southwest Minnesota State University Booster Club and Senior College. Merton Strommen ’42, a pioneer in youth ministry, released his 17th book, “The Amazing Hand of God: My Story of a Lifetime in Youth Ministry,” which is available through Lutheran University Press at lutheranUpress.org and for Kindle tablet at amazon.com. From the NOW@Augsburg blog. Visit augsburg.edu/alumni/blog to read more. Charlotte (Gerdeen) Oswood Fruehauf is presently a roadie for her husband, Dave Fruehauf, who has a banjo band. She and her late husband, Christian Oswood, were married for almost 40 years and had three sons. She remarried in 2006 and lives in Maple Grove, Minn. Sharon (Woolson) Groff and her husband served as missionaries for 18 years in Bolivia with World Mission Prayer League. She attended Lay Ministry Training Center at North Heights Lutheran Church in Roseville, Minn. She taught Spanish and English as a second language in Colorado and Minnesota. Raúl “Ray” Jackson has been married to Ruth Wilsey ’65 for 50 years. They live in Hastings, Minn., and have three children and seven grandchildren. Ann (Tjaden) Jensen lives in Minneapolis with her husband, Jon Jensen. After graduation, she and then-husband, Bill Chartrand, were Peace Corps teachers in Ethiopia. This led to the formation of a multiracial family and spurred their efforts to create a nonprofit to educate girls in Ethiopia. Ellen (Paulson) Keiter has spent her career as a chemistry professor at Eastern Illinois University. AUGGIE SNAPSHOTS 1954 Anyone who has ever loved a dog will enjoy Herb Chilstrom’s fourth book, “My Friend Jonah – and Other Dogs I’ve Loved.” In a foreword to the book, U.S. Sen. Amy Klobuchar writes, “As Bishop Chilstrom shepherds us through the lessons his dogs have taught him, from loyalty and discipline and companionship to forgiveness, curiosity, and rest, he makes us think about the big issues in life: how to live, how to treat others, and even how to die.” Income from book sales will honor Joel 36 Augsburg Now Torstenson, who was professor of sociology at Augsburg for more than 30 years. Part of the new Center for Science, Business, and Religion will be named for Torstenson. As Chilstrom puts it, “Torstenson coaxed this small town Minnesota boy out of his zones of comfort and into the real world of need.” The book may be ordered online at huffpublishing.com or by mailing a check to Chilstrom Books, 1211 Pine Pointe Curve, St. Peter, MN 56082. Enclose a check for $22 per book. Postage and sales tax, where applicable, are included. ALUMNI CLASS NOTES REUNION 1964 Jack Kelly has three children. He lives in Moscow, Idaho, with his wife, Karen Kelly, and keeps busy with reading, choral singing, and travel. Sharon (Lindell) Mortrud lives in Park Rapids, Minn., and enjoys lots of travel along with church activities, gardening, and serving on the local hospital auxiliary. Sharon (Swanson) Knutson spent her career working with the University of Minnesota-Extension Service. She helped develop the “Who Gets Grandma’s Yellow Pie Plate?” program designed to help provide families practical information about inheritance and transfer of non-titled personal property through workshops, resources, and more. Mary (Fenrick) Olson and Ted Olson met at Augsburg and just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They spend winters in Florida and enjoy keeping up with their eight grandchildren. Arla (Pedersen) Landon is active in Democratic-Farmer-Labor politics related to issues of social justice, peace, and fairness. She keeps busy after retirement with a rich variety of activities, including church, plays, concerts, dinners out, and volunteering. Karla (Krogsrud) Miley lives in Rock Island, Ill., has two sons, and enjoys quilting, gardening, and traveling. Anita (Martinson) Mock is married to Dean Mock and lives in Nelson, Wis. She works part time in special needs education for K-12. She also sings in the Lyster Sisters group, plays piano, loves berry picking, and keeps busy with her nine grandchildren. Jim Parks lives in Plymouth, Minn. with his wife, Rose Ann. Retired since 2005, Jim still appreciates Augsburg’s roots in the Christian faith and its location in the heart of Minneapolis. “We were not at college on the edge of a corn field,” he writes. Faye (Sawyer) Phillips shares that she fills her days in Fullerton, Calif., with church, family, bridge, and travel. She works as a docent at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana and as a member of a retired senior volunteer patrol for the Fullerton Police Department. Ron Poeschel officiates basketball, umpires baseball, and enjoys golfing, singing in the choir, and volunteering at church. Stella (Kyllo) Rosenquist lives in Sun City West, Ariz., with her husband, Stewart Morton. She is president of Women of the ELCA 1981 Bev Benson has been a prosecutor for 28 years; her career includes 25 years in Hennepin County and 3 years in Stearns County. She has specialized in the prosecution of domestic abuse, child abuse, sexual assault, and homicides. Taunya Tinsley ’90 is a professional counselor and owner of Pittsburgh-based Transitions Counseling Services and Life Skills Program, which specializes in organizational development, multicultural training, spiritual and Christian counseling, sports counseling, and development through sports. She is enrolled at United Theological Seminary in the Doctor of Ministry program and will focus on sports chaplaincy. She was inducted into the Augsburg Athletic Hall of Fame during Homecoming 2014. From the NOW@Augsburg blog. Visit augsburg.edu/alumni/blog to read more. for Lord of Life Lutheran with 258 female members in 16 circles. last year went to Australia and New Zealand. Joyce (Nelson) Schrader taught in elementary schools in Roseville, Minn., and Littleton, Colo. She lives in Friendswood, Texas, and enjoyed a late summer trip to Norway this year. Carla (Quanbeck) Walgren and Michael Walgren live in Plymouth, Minn. Carla sings in the church choir and sews banners and liturgical hangings for church. Michael is an active member of the Augsburg Centennial Singers and the Courier Gospel Quartet. Linda (Hamilton) Senta relishes singing in the Duluth Superior Symphony Chorus of Duluth, Minn., and another choir, as well as volunteer work and travel. Olivia (Bylund) Smith and her sister, Lennore Bevis ’66, both have homes on Big Hanging Horn Lake in Minnesota. They have traveled together the past few years, and Diane (Kalberg) Watson lives in Happy Valley, Ore., and after a 25-year career in music sales and education, now plays piano, keyboard, and organ in her husband’s gospel quartet. 1986 Nicholas C. Gangestad was appointed senior vice president and chief financial officer at 3M this summer. His 27-year career at 3M encompasses financial leadership positions across several businesses in multiple locations, including Canada, Latin America, Asia Pacific, and the United States. Fall 2014 37 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES Ann (Johnson) Wollman and her husband, David, spent their careers in Christian college teaching and administration. She is active in volunteer academic work and co-leads a grief support group at church. They read, bike, walk three miles daily, garden, and are very active in church. Elizabeth (Johnson) Wolsky and her husband, Dennis, enjoy sailing, golfing, and gardening, spending time in Florida in the winter, and attending events for their five grandchildren. 1965 George Johnson has been teaching at a university in Lahore, Pakistan, for more than three years. 1972 Tom Fischer received recognition and a plaque for 40 years of service to the high schools of Minnesota as a Minnesota State High School League official. He officiated his 40th Minnesota State Track and Field Championships in June. 1973 Joyce (Leifgren) Young reports that life is good in Minneapolis. She loves gardening, bike riding, studying Norwegian, travel, volunteering for social justice and her church, and more. Cris Gears retired from a life of service to the public. He most recently served as superintendent of Hennepin County’s Three Rivers Park District. During his tenure, he oversaw completion of many projects, including the building of a new park in St. Anthony Village, a new nature center in Dayton, and new cross-country ski trails in Maria (Hicks) Johnson ’94 has served on the board of the Minneapolis-based nonprofit La Oportunidad for 15 years. A retired, bilingual English/Spanish teacher, Johnson serves as a mentor in Augsburg’s Scholastic Connections program. From the NOW@Augsburg blog. Visit augsburg.edu/alumni/blog to read more. the district. He also was integral in helping build cooperative relationships with cities in the district. Gears worked for the public interest in other positions, including as recreation program director for the City of St. Louis Park, city manager for the City of Excelsior, director of facilities for Kitsap County, Wash., and others. REUNION 1974 Darlene (Anderson) Anderson is the past president of the Minnesota division of the American Cancer Society. She has retired from her career in medicine. Carolyn (Stepanek) Beatty retired after 36 years as a medical technologist at Memorial Blood Center. She lives in Minneapolis and is involved in volunteer activities with church and spiritual listening. Nancy Brown-Koeller recently retired from Kimberly-Clark after 30 years in marketing research. She received a certificate in gerontology in 2014 and has started a training and consulting business, AgingUp. She conducts ImaginAging Workshops and teaches part time at Lakeland College. She is active with Sierra Club and trails advocacy groups. With husband, John Koeller, she is working to visit as many national parks as possible. Nancy writes that she attends Advent Vespers every year at the 4 p.m. service. Wouldn’t it be great to have a coffee hour with classmates beforehand? Sharon (Holt) Garland and Richard Garland ’75 have two children and reside in Minnetonka, Minn. She enjoys genealogy and gardening. Jeff Gorham has a fun fact to share: If you ever eat anything from the Kraft Foods Group, chances are, he worked on the process line that produced it. He was unable to attend the reunion, but looks forward to seeing everyone at the 50th. Bryon Gustafson lives in Plymouth, Minn., and enjoys travel, photography, genealogy, and volunteering at church. Janet (Durkee) Hohn is owner and president of Hohn and Hohn, Inc., a tile contractor. She also spends time racing sailboats and gardening. Donn Johnson lives in Faribault, Minn., and keeps busy with travel, model trains, and his six grandchildren. AUGGIE SNAPSHOTS 1986 David H. Johnson has joined Faegre Baker Daniels’ Minnesota government relations practice as a partner. Johnson represents clients in a range of matters before state and federal agencies, the Minnesota Legislature, and local units of government. Prior to joining the law firm, Johnson led the government affairs practice at Best & Flanagan. From 1997 to 2002, he served in the Minnesota Senate, focusing on transportation, energy, and economic development issues. He served as a Majority Whip in 2001-02. 38 Augsburg Now 1996 Brittany (Lynch) Jakubiec and other 1995 and 1996 Auggies and their families camp together annually to celebrate years of friendship. From left to right: Stephanie Harms ’96 and her husband, Tom Shaw ’95; Jennifer (Cummings) Ackland ’96 and her husband, Brian Ackland ’95; Natasha (Solberg) Sheeley ’96 and her husband, Dave; Jodi (Monson) Markell ’96 and her husband, Nate; Connie (Arndt) Clausen ’96 and her husband, Andy; Wendy Laine ’96; Brittany (Lynch) Jakubiec ’96 and her husband, Mike. ALUMNI CLASS NOTES Ruth Johnson, married to Associate Professor of Religion Philip Quanbeck II, graduated from Mayo Medical School in 1978. Her professional interests include women’s health, medical education, and spirituality in medicine. She has led groups of students and adults on trips to Greece and Turkey, and to Israel. it enjoys bipartisan support. The resolution says Senate acknowledgment of the injustice would “educate the public and future generations regarding the impact of this law on women and prevent a similar law from being enacted in the future.” He is hopeful that his grandmother’s citizenship will be restored posthumously. Brenda Kay (Roble) Lieske retired as director of community education in Jordan, Minn., and, this fall, ran for city council. She enjoys the freedom that comes with retirement, and stays active with walking, biking, yoga, book club, and Bunco. 1976 Steve Reznicek is a retired K-12 principal and is now an adjunct professor in the music department at Bemidji State University in Bemidji, Minn. Rebecca (Peterson) Sullivan is a leader in a companion synod relationship between the SWMN Synod of the ELCA and the southeast diocese of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Southern Africa. She lives in Mankato, Minn. Becky (Ranum) Wenz retired after 32 years working as a medical technologist in hospitals, clinics, and research. She lives in Firth, Neb., and appreciates travel, church, crochet, reading, and time with family and friends. John Yager is retired. He is taking a course in outdoor emergency care, and enjoys the chance to pursue his second act in life. 1975 When Dan Swalm was researching his family history, he first heard about the Expatriation Act of 1907 that required United States-born women who married foreigners to take the nationality of their husband. His grandmother, Elsie Moran, was affected by this law, and Swalm took her case to the office of U.S. Sen. Al Franken. A resolution, which has been sent to the Senate Judiciary Committee, stands a good chance of passing because Jeff Mueller has been named director of operations for Norway House after serving 10 years as secretary on its board of directors and as vice president of strategic partnerships. Prior to joining Norway House, Mueller served for more than six years as a business growth advisor and consultant at Enterprise Minnesota, helping Minnesota manufacturers grow their businesses and compete more profitably in today’s marketplace. Mueller also spent more than 20 years in banking and finance with U.S. Bancorp and Wells Fargo & Co. He has been involved in multiple Norwegian-American organizations, including four years as president of the Norwegian American Chamber of Commerce, secretary of Syttende Mai Minnesota, along with leadership in numerous other groups. 1978 Rick Bonlender has a new job with American Bank in Albert Lea, Minn., as the market president in southern Minnesota. Bruce Shoemaker ’81 discusses how studying abroad influenced his life. See page 10. 1985 Kathy Kuross was selected as a finalist for the UNIT4 innovation award. UNIT4 is the owner of Agresso, which runs Augsburg’s HR, finance, and registration software systems. Among the innovations recognized were Kuross’s work converting Augsburg’s course credit system to a semester credit system, combining all programs to a semester calendar, and automating processes within the software. 1987 Caroline (Krapf) Clifford is the director of special events and advancement services at Northampton Community College in Bethlehem, Pa. She is raising two teenage sons. 1989 Kristin Eggerling is passionate about preserving wild places, reading, and exposing kids to the outdoors. She works as a freelance writer, community activist, and parent. She writes about natural resources and serves on her local library board and a number of regional and state boards focused on sustainability and conservation. She has worked in the public health field, coordinated watershed education, taught sociology at the University of Minnesota Crookston, Cheryl (Solomonson) Crockett lives in Inver Grove Heights, Minn., and has three children—two of whom have degrees from Augsburg. She does volunteer writing and editing for the Augsburg alumni office, and enjoys motorcycle trips with her husband, Larry, an Augsburg professor of computer science. Stephen Hindle ’89 talks about how college shaped his future on page 10. Mary (Zastrow) Hoel retired from her career as an elementary Montessori teacher. She now plays saxophone in a community band, participates in church choir, takes art classes, and attends exhibitions. Three of her four children hold degrees from Augsburg. Eloisa Echavez ’94, ’98 MAE created Augsburg’s student services program for Latinos in the 1990s and has served as executive director of Minneapolisbased La Oportunidad for the past 15 years. This nonprofit assists lowincome Latinos of all ages in achieving educational success, improving financial stability, and maintaining supportive, peaceful families. From the NOW@Augsburg blog. Visit augsburg.edu/alumni/blog to read more. and served as the administrator of the Environment and Agriculture Budget Committee at the Minnesota Senate. She has also served on the Citizen’s Advisory Committee of the Legislative Commission on Minnesota Resources. In addition to her sociology degree from Augsburg, Eggerling holds a master’s degree in sociology from the University of Manitoba. She recently published “Breath of Wilderness,” the story of Sigurd Olson’s love for wild places and how that love transformed his life. It inspired him to play a key role in the movement to preserve wilderness throughout North America, including the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Devoney Looser lives in Phoenix, where she is a professor of English at Arizona State University. Among her present interests are Jane Austen, libraries, and roller derby. Find out more at devoney.com. Mark Muhich was re-elected to the board of directors for the Range Mental Health Center. Muhich, who has served on the board since 2006, studied English and political science at Augsburg. He went on to study law and now practices in Virginia, Minn. Spring 2014 Fall 2014 17 39 37 ALUMNI CLASS NOTES 2004 Brian Eayrs, a former Augsburg College quarterback, is director of research and development for the Seattle Seahawks. His father, Mike Eayrs ’72, held the same position with the Vikings and now is with the Packers. Mike was inducted into the 2014 Augsburg Hall of Fame. Melissa (Wingard) Fossum lives in San Diego, Calif. She is married to a U.S. Marine and has two children, Hunter and Hannah. Deanne McDonald moved to Chicago three years ago and spends her free time exploring and participating in the vibrant culture of the city. In 2011, she completed her Master of Fine
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