Staff & Contributors

Harry Drabik

Content By This Contributor:

Our Light?

Harry Drabik

For over a hundred years there has been a light marking the east side of the Grand Marais harbor entry. The first houses to hold these lights above the water were sturdy wooden towers built in the days of the Lighthouse and Rescue Servic

Holier than I am

Harry Drabik

The season changing to autumn has long been my emotional and reflective season, not that any reflection off my side is likely to blind anyone with illumination. Coolness in the air and the de-greening of foliage are visible signs of time passing in the block form of the season

Polly Ticks

Harry Drabik

I was tired of it quite a while ago, but it’s going to go on (only getting worse) until the November elections, when discord takes a ten-second intermission before the workup for the next round of cacophony. (How wonderfully apt that caca and phony unite politically.)

The end of the free lunch

Harry Drabik

It’s said age turns people conservative. The young firebrand becomes the gloomy clinker. The majority of those unfortunates calling me friend lean distinctly in the direction of advancing age and increasing conservatism. Some acquaintances come across far right of the Great Khan and would rule by sword and decree. One has to tolerate much in friends, my case especially, because I

Abject Apology

Harry Drabik

I’m afraid I too highly sang the praises of the carrot last week. I stand corrected and rebuked. The carrot has less high favor than I wrote. First there are those who dislike its sugar content, but the poor carrot also fits into that group of vegies some see as not-so-innocent. It’s the shape, you see. Leading the objectionable shape category is the banana, objection to it and similar shapes being of a religious nature based on the finding that cert

Arty Artful Artiness

Harry Drabik

Honoring tourists and tourism, those great gods of eat, drink, and commerce, the North Shore indulges in serried waves of butt-lifting obeisance to that which does make us wealthy along with popular and silly looking. In addition to a gallery here and a galleria there, we sally out a regular flow of art fairs, festivals, and celebrations

And for the defense

Harry Drabik

One of the trickier parts of life in a collection of compacted communities is jury duty. Jurors are almost bound to know something of the parties involved. We are not blank slates. When called, you do your best to be impartial. You suspend ju

Just one little thing

Harry Drabik

Here it is near the middle of July already. It’s almost time to start looking in the closet for the winter clothes, except that here in Minnesota we really never put them away as my family did back in our Illinois days, when winter arrived December 20 and was long gone by balmy Easter Sunday. The climate near the

Political Religion

Harry Drabik

As I’ve mined my 50th high school reunion these past weeks I’ve been advised (a tactful word) to do a follow-up. Well I have to say the 50th for what was formerly Aurora-Hoyt Lakes High School was fairly well attended. Roughly half the 100 graduates made it. Seventeen of us having been embarked on the permanent rolls of the deceased did not attend. Those absent were no less present

Things I’ve learned

Harry Drabik

Not long after my adult life on the North Shore began, I needed excavation work done around the cabin. I made a list, drew sketches, and worked out all the important details in my head. I was abundantly prepared to have the project done. When the contractor arrived, I was in fine form, explaining just ex

Division

Harry Drabik

There’s no escape. The pending 50th A-HL high school reunion has embedded deep and dark in the brain cavern. I think it’s the number. Fifty is too big, like having to pay fifty for a gallon of gas. It’s not right, plus I’ve never much liked numbers. A long line of dead math teachers would bear witness. An open book of arithmetic before me had the effect of hypnosis. I saw, heard, and

Counting To Fifty

Harry Drabik

After the past rainy weeks, the grass took off. As you know, for unpaid entertainment few things surpass the fun of mowing long wet grass, but the plains of Hovland had to fall and the only way was via the pains of Harry. I don’t like mowing. I detest it; have ever since I was thirteen, when Mom and Dad set eyes upon the prize of best lawn and realized they had a slave to accomplish the goal. The initial fun was

My Happiness

Harry Drabik

I stood before the microwave the other day when a bolt hit, stopping me dead as a frozen fish stick, which as you know is the very sign and signal of the grimmest reaper on the planet. From fish stick death there is no return. Frozen fish is so far from life it reaches extraterrestrial alien status. With fish sticks I have no quarrel, other than avoiding them and feeling sorry for them in their little cardboard coffins in the freezer section. The decent thing would be a deep hole and a tasteful service; taste being otherwise denied said frozen fish except for salt making them salty.

Let Me Offend You

Harry Drabik

There’s a Sam Clemens story titled “The Man That Corrupted Hadleyburg.” Hadleyburg is a pious town with a high moral tone the townsfolk insist on rigidly enforcing. Their piety is so extreme and unthinking it becomes itself a corruption in need of major reform. I won’t go over-long on the details, but the corrup

Invasion!

Harry Drabik

The sun came out the other day. I quickly took advantage to go outdoors to check the yard without having to wear a headlamp or carry a flashlight. Work in the garden is more cumbersome when lighting is needed. I hardly got moving toward the side yard when I spotted an invader. Gads, seems early this

The Jesus Bank

Harry Drabik

I almost forgot a curious thing connected to our family move to the North Shore (apparently with a plan of going broke in record time) when I was twelve. An odd age, twelve: I’ll characterize it as late-stage infancy with adult pretensions. In the foggy dew of my youth, I was ignorantly unaware of the sublime idiocy of my very able tool-and-die-maker father migrating to a place where

It’s one or the other

Harry Drabik

I talked last week with a couple interested in moving up the shore for retirement. Comparing it to their urban area, they asked how newcomers fared along the clearly more homogenous North Shore. I said (and it is true) our little shore communities are uniformly friendly. Then without further thought (a well-documented problem) I added, “But remember, if not born here you’ll always be an outsider, possibly socialist.” They laughed. My com

Curious indigestions of spring

Harry Drabik

I had business up the Trail last week. It was a beautiful day when I left home along the shore. The sun was bright on the big lake. An hour drive made a difference. The sky clouded over like a layer of greasy wax paper. In the space of a mile, the outside temp fell from 34 to 26 as I drove into a snow squall with all the entertainment of trying to navigate inside a feather-filled pillow. It wasn’t

Minnesota Nice

Harry Drabik

The Northland shares the “nice” tradition, a reputation to be proud of. When I think of the unconscious discrimination and stereotyping present when I grew up, it’s hardly asking too much to exercise some self-restraint. On the other side, there are those who see “nice” as objectionable. To them, the habit dangerously intrudes political correctness into free speech. There’s merit there, too, because free speech is nothing to take lightly or for granted. Indeed, there are risks in being too nice or overly correct, if in so doing one becomes either doormat or an enabler. The individual must retain the right not to be nice for use as needed.

Going, going, gone

Harry Drabik

The other day outside a convenience store, I ran into a neighbor I hadn’t seen in a while. I stopped to say hi and otherwise pretend I was a decently sociable human being. If you recall last week, there were some windy and chilly days. Well, it’s north shore in spring, so wind and cold are the norm. I recall one May wearing a parka and choppers to water my new grass (lawn). It was like that outside the store talking to someone buffered from t

It’s more than a word

Harry Drabik

We live where it’s sometimes hard to know what to call the time of year. Is it spring? Or are we better off saying mud time or pre-bug season? Our end of winter isn’t like the sunny Easter to the south, but then ours comes minus tornados, so I’m not complaining. Northland spring is a multi-word affair. I’d vote for “ice-out, frost on the ground, too soon to plant, fire at night, bumpy road, no bugs time of year.

Responsible

Harry Drabik

I was asked recently about an article. The question: Was I beating war drums? Well no, I wasn’t, but in 1,000 words (plus my ability to muddle) a single clear theme might get lost in the shuffle. Nonetheless, I take responsibility for what I attempted in the spirit in which I attempted it. Sorry my intent wa

Burnt to the Ground

Harry Drabik

No, the title isn’t world news. Inside while snow flew, I remembered an incident when I was six. Mother going to lie down with a headache (I’m sure it had nothing to do with me) presented a perfect opportunity for a camping adventure...

Lyceum

Harry Drabik

Some don’t recall it, while others don’t wish to acknowledge how at one time public education was a model for American values and progress. Most parents, if it was within their reach, wanted better for their children. Before “public” education was available, the likely ways to do this were by signing a child (sometimes for a fee) to indentured service (free labor) so he (in general only males were educated) could learn skills, to a guild (much the same as indenture), or a favored few (in part due to limited capacity) were allowed entry to a church school where a boy learned to copy, sing, and do menial work. The poor and their children had little opportunity to move above their station in life. Many children learned skills strictly from work with their parents or in their community, the majority of whose members were illiterate. The Protestant Reformation with its emphasis on individuals reading the Bible in their own tongue caused many parishes to provide limited education, primarily in reading, often excluding fem

Stokers and other things lost

Harry Drabik

As a kid in Chicago I remember our basement holding an item that was my father’s pride and joy. (It seemed to rival me in his affection, so I remember it very well.) That item, kept gleaming clean despite ...

Tough Sledding

Harry Drabik

Thinking about the forthcoming John Beargrease Race, I was reminded of an old friend who in melodic Swedish voice used to say, “We’ve got two seasons: winter and a couple months of tough sledding.” He’s gone ...

Will it be a Happy New Year?

Harry Drabik

If the Maya are correct we are in for big a bad time, as in an End-of-the-World style trouble. Well, it is possible, though in my view you’d need to push the notion of possible very far ...

Christmas Presents

Harry Drabik

I don’t have my outdoor lights up. A few years I missed getting them out completely. It depends on the weather and what comes up. I’m not too concerned though. As a kid I more than made up for any seasonal deficiencies now ...

Old Dishes

Harry Drabik

Over Thanksgiving while looking for a serving bowl I found a stray cup, the sort of thing most would rightly discard. Even in a second hand store how much value is found in one old cup?

Politics at daddy’s knee.

Harry Drabik

I learned what I’d call a form of “hard knocks” politics from my father. In his mind and words my dad was absolutely a staunch conservative who knew what was right and would not back down. He was adamant about that.

Lazy Bums

Harry Drabik

This time of year my local Post Office falls short on providing source material because with chill winds blowing and chores to get done between rain showers and before the snow flies we don’t linger as much to chew into mulch whatever it is ...

It’s easy to forget

Harry Drabik

It’s easy to lose sight of how fortunate we are to live where we do. The approach of winter (we can’t stop its arrival) causes a certain amount of “it’s coming to get us” anxiety, but we pull ourselves together and soldier on knowing there’s ...

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