Driving Around East-Central Minnesota with my Dad
He and I went for a drive a few weeks after I moved back. His role was to navigate while I drove. I had no idea where he wanted to go, but I’d follow his direction. He talked of several places he wanted to see before we left, but I wasn’t familiar with this part of Minnesota. Figured it would probably make a good story at some point, so I’m in. Problem is, it has been nearly 8 years since, and I have a folder with well over 250 unlabeled pictures taken that day. My notes expand on the photos, but don’t include a route. No memory of where exactly those places were, and now I need to figure all of that out, to write this story. At the least images are numbered, so I can follow and order.
The area we drove around in would be that little highlighted box in east central Minnesota.
Located northeast of Minneapolis/St. Paul.
Starting with the first photo I took, and utilizing Googles Maps, I was able to figure out the full route we took, matching up my pictures with the street view. From our starting point at the Andover Kwik Trip, the green arrowed line shows where we went that morning. I’ll refer to additional maps as we go…
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Given decent weather and that I’d be starting my new (and current) job the next Monday morning, this was a good day for us to go. We got started about 9am. He had his morning coffee, I grabbed my camera, some extra batteries and a stop at the Andover Kwik Trip for small cooler supplies before setting out for wherever we were going.
Electrical cluster on the northwest corner of Bunker Lake Blvd. and Hanson Blvd. Always a big fan of these when you see them around town. This one isn’t very interesting, but it’s spread out. Taking up far more space than the one a few blocks from where our house is. Going back almost 50 years now, I remember when Hanson Blvd. ended at Bunker. Now it continues north, allowing access to hundreds of houses and businesses that didn’t exist before the road was extended in the late 1970’s.
That was back in the days when this section of Bunker was filled with auto salvage yards and one notorious gay bath house. A few years ago, I wrote about that era of Bunker Lake Blvd., with a story about the abandoned Andover Convenience store. Only lasted from the late 1990’s until 2012, then was demolished in 2016.
They had no prayer of competing with the SuperAmerica (now Speedway) on the northeast corner of the intersection.
Heading east on Bunker, a few blocks from Hanson, is the BNSF Railroad crossing, with tracks leading up to Duluth. As a little kid, my mom, sister and I took the Amtrak train to Duluth several times. We’d get out at the depot and walk the several blacks to a long gone hotel close to Canal Park. My dad would spend the day working, then drive up to meet us at the hotel after he got off work. We’d spend several days in Duluth for a yearly Summer vacation.
Back then, Bunker was just a narrow two lane road. The railroad crossing had zero gates.
Now it has 8 of them, including ones cover the sidewalks.
Waiting for the light to turn at Bunker and Highway 65, I see that land on the northwest corner is being cleared for construction. Soon to be the new home of a Casey’s convenience store. They’re the big midwest competition to Kwik Trip (with Speedway running a distant third, maybe fourth compared to Holiday?) for your local convenience store dollar. Casey’s has much better pizza than Kwik Trip, but that’s where the competition ends.
I will die on that hill.
Ham Lake has a digital sign with letters too small to read, as you drive (at least) 65 on Highway 65 north.
Guess this is roughly the city limits of Blaine.
Which reminds me, I previously wrote a story about my dad and I aimlessly driving around St. Paul, a few weeks after this trip. After that drive, we stopped at the Blaine Bakers Square restaurant. Which closed after Covid, and demolished a few days before my dad died in 2021.
Remember seeing the AME Red-E-Mix tower on every trip down Highway 65, dating back to the late 1970’s.
Definitely a landmark.
Approaching the Constance Blvd. intersection, with a BP branded gas station on the corner. BP was an old Tom Thumb station, that also serves as a semi-landmark. The station was damaged by an F4 tornado, in July 1983, but was quickly rebuilt. (Parts of that same storm damaged my parents house, but we were in Duluth when the storm hit.) The shopping centers at the intersections of Highway 65 and 242, felt effects from that storm as well. I remember riding with my dad around Blaine, Ham Lake and Andover, looking at the damage from the storm a few days after it happened. This part of the metro was very sparsely populated, compared to what it is today.
If it were still 1981, and you made a right turn at this light, you could go to my parents friends house. They would go there with several other married couples to play cards occasionally. The kids would be confined to the basement while the adults socialized. They used to live in Anoka, before building their new house on Constance. There was a giant pile of dirt in their backyard, that was a lot of fun to play on. I looked online, but couldn’t find the house. I have no doubt it’s there, but I definitely don’t remember where it was.
Certain that dirt pile is gone now too…
That little red Corvette wasn’t stuck on poles because of Prince, though I cannot say it’s not an homage. It’s been parked on top of that sign for many years, since Prince was still alive. Underneath was a sign for an auto lot that has operated under many names. From what I could tell, when we drove by in June 2018, it was known as Dad’s Auto.
Well, that’s sort of appropriate.
My dad was good with cars. He was blessed with the mechanical smarts that I never developed. When I was young, he tried to teach me some things about fixing cars and other manly mechanical feats, but I didn’t have the aptitude. And he really didn’t have the patience to help me understand. Decades later, I’m still barely functional when it comes to anything mechanical. And I fully understand the lack of patience. While I wasn’t given the gift of being able to fix things, I do have an almost exhaustive lack of patience. He gave up on trying to teach me and I don’t blame him.
Funny what gets passed down and what gets skipped between generations.
While still in Ham Lake, this part of Highway 65 is known as Soderville. It was named in the 1930’s, after the four Soderquist brothers, who settled in the area. There aren’t too many Hardware Hank branded hardware stores left anymore. This location was another likely casualty…
In 2023, the Hardware Hank sign was removed from the building facade, and changed to Ham Lake Hardware. Hank remains on the pole sign though, so he hasn’t been completely demoted. But I don’t like not seeing the classic Hardware Hank sign.
A block or so north, the old Soderville Our Own Hardware still has its sign installed. Hmmm… Let me try and zoom in…
ENHANCE!!!
Well, that really didn’t help much… The sign is gone today, but they may still be doing some degree of business here. This cluster of buildings is all pretty dated and run down now. The only place I know of that is still open would be the Soderville Cafe, which would be just outside the frame to the right.
Of course, further down the block would be the old Soderville Dairy Queen. Which recently had a blink-and-you-missed-it 6 month run as a Burger Time. I wrote about that brief Time of Burger a few months ago. A story that inspired me to finally write this one.
A mile or so up the highway is this intersection. On the left side of the photo is a small piece of the East Bethel Theater perking lot. In the mid-1990’s, before the movie previews would start, a narrated slide show of local business advertisements would play on a loop. I can still hear the voice over saying the name “Soderville”, in a congested Minnesota accent.
The SuperAmerica on the opposite corner is a newer build, from whatever the gas station was that used to be here 30 years ago. It was a good place to stop and buy things to smuggle into the theater. Saving you money on overpriced concessions.
SuperAmerica was demolished in 2023, allowing this newer Holiday station to grow up in its place. The median/turn lane was modified to reduce the number of deadly car crashes that took place here. These turn lane/median blockers have been installed all along Highway 65, which is known as one of deadliest highways in Minnesota. The road is overwhelmed with traffic, but also a lot of stupid and arrogant drivers. Doesn’t take too much driving on this highway to understand why there are so many accidents.
So let’s leave this highway, and make a right turn onto Viking Blvd. We’re officially leaving familiar territory to me, and I’m leaving the navigation to my dad. Allegedly, he knows where we are going today…
Like deeper into East Bethel!
Known in 2018 as the Village Pumper, this station is now an ARCO. With the brand name of Go For It Gas above the front doors. Wonder if that’s the same Go For It Gas brand as was torn down in Blaine, some years back?
Sprinkled alongside the county roads in the this part of the state, are the occasional warnings of “Deep Ditch”. Marked by horizontal yellow signs, on both sides of that Deep Ditch. Which is appreciated, but I always wanted some context. How deep? Are there some weird cracks in the Minnesota landscape that go only about a foot wide, but 783 feet deep? May want to think twice about building your house this close to such a hazard…
I don’t think I’ve seen these ditch warnings anywhere but rural Minnesota.
Must be a local phenomenon.
We continued on. Going (roughly) east, as the county road (22), or Viking Blvd NE, grew more twisty as it snaked around several small lakes.
This body of water next to the road, has a much larger footprint than the volume of water you see today. Googles doesn’t even bother putting its name on their satellite view. If it even has a name… This part of the state alternates between lakes and marshes, then forests and flat land, developed to varying degrees. You can see how much the water levels have gone down over the decades, by looking at the scars on the satellite views.
Continuing our slightly exaggerated route around Linwood Lake, we approached the Linwood Country Store & Pizza restaurant. Didn’t stop today, but my dad said that he would buy bait there when he went fishing on Linwood Lake.
Is that an old Happy Chef statue?
Now this deserves some of my patented Half-Assed research! Why, yes it is an old Happy Chef statue! Couldn’t find anything about which franchise he was imported from, and his long handled spoon has been removed in favor of a pizza. Most important, his face has since been re-painted, so it’s no longer grey. Very awesome that one of the few surviving statues lives on in Linwood, MN.
My collection of stupid things includes not only one deck of Happy Chef branded playing cards, but also a deck of 25th Anniversary Happy Chef branded playing cards!
I just learned today that the last remaining Happy Chef restaurant in the entire chain, is in Mankato, Minnesota. Coincidentally, the very first Happy Chef restaurant to exist. It opened in 1963. At their peak, there were 65 Happy Chef restaurants around the midwest. I’ve never eaten at the Mankato location, but I’ve driven past it many times. Perkins comparable… A less greasy Denny’s… There were probably more, but I distinctly remember eating at the Chef in Roseville and St. Cloud. Likely a location around Duluth and Fargo/Moorhead, as well.
One of those St. Cloud Happy Chef visits was just my dad and me. In the spring of 1986, he and I were on our way home from Hawley, MN. We were coming back from a burial ceremony for his father, who died in January. His body wouldn’t be buried until the ground defrosted enough to dig a grave. We drove up in the morning, attended a brief ceremony at the grave, hung out with his sisters and my cousins, then we drove back home.
In August 2018, Laura and I had to put our cat, Oliver, down. My dad said something that has stuck with me. In a moment of clarity, he said to me… “I’ve cried more for a cat, than I did my own father’s funeral.” That statement carries a lot of weight, knowing the relationship he had with his father.
My dad was a bit more talkative as we drove through this area. Linwood Lake being where he spent a lot of time fishing, either with friends or alone. So he had strong enough memories of the area, and he could still express his thoughts. I asked him if he wanted to drive back to the public boat launch. He didn’t. I knew it bothered him that he could no longer fish.
The ability to express his thoughts would fade over the next few years. His mind was blinking away. Often angry and frustrated because he I saw it for the last few years before the end, and it was hard to experience. Before I moved back to Minnesota, my mom would give me updates on his condition. With each passing year, his world became smaller and smaller.
His boat sat beside the garage for years after he was last able to use it. Which had to bother him. Seeing something every day, that you used to be able to simply hook up to your truck, and drive to the lake and sit there for hours. Now he couldn’t do that. It was probably 2012 when he last took the boat out on his own. A few years later, he couldn’t drive any more. He ended up giving the boat to my mom's boss's kids, in 2016. It needed repairs, and would give them something to work on fixing.
One of his last times he drove by himself, was to the Andover Kwik Trip. But it was dark, and he got confused about how to get home. Taking 45 minutes to drive less than 5 miles. A route he’d driven multiple times a week, for 10 years. The residential street maze got him lost, and he couldn’t find the house he’d lived in for over 40 years.
Though up until his last year, he insisted he was going to get a car and drive again!
Map of our route east to Wyoming, on Viking Road.
Used my Overpriced Colored Pencils from Overpriced Art School, to color in Linwood Lake. In the summer of 1998, my dad took out a loan on his 401k to pay for the state of the art 1998 Macintosh G3 Tower, with all the fixings. I believe that without that computer, I would have lost everything I learned in Overpriced Art School, and may not have gotten into the industry I’ve worked in since 2000. Having a quality machine with all the software and equipment to keep sharp and develop my skills between graduation and a productive interview, meant everything. I wasn’t only dicking around with Wasted Quarter during those years at Kenyon… That led to the direction my life sorely needed.
Seems appropriate to use them for this story.
I’m still paying for them, after all…
Always wondered the meaning or point behind the higher up X on the pole. Dating back to when I was a little kid, and I could see one of them at the railroad crossing on Egret Street. It makes sense if you’re me.
Approaching Wyoming, MN…
Looking north, as I’m crossing Interstate 35. The water tower in the distance looks like it has a tomato painted on it. But it’s actually the Wyoming city logo, with a horse drawn stagecoach.
Looks like a tomato from here.
Because the Wyoming water tower, looking woefully inadequate and rusting through, was about to be demolished. When the next Googlesmobile drove through Wyoming, in October 2018, this water tower was gone.
So I got another picture while waiting for the light to turn. This would take us north on County Road 22.
Destination… Stacy, MN.
Access to the Sunrise Prairie Trail parking area has been cut off for road work.
This would be a bike trail that turns back into railroad tracks, in North Branch.
Approaching Stacy from the south, driving past the Rick Doyle Memorial Fields. Stacy’s water tower is still standing today. They didn’t get a new one by the interstate with a tomato painted on it.
Piles of pre-cast cement pipes from Rinker Materials, lined up behind the trees along Highway 22.
Just liked how they all looked.
Missed getting a picture, but about 100 feet back from here was Advanced Welding Technologies. My dad started to say something about them, but he couldn’t remember after noticing the building. He spent most of his adult life working as a welder, for various small and large shops around town. Sometimes two or three at a time. 15-16 hour days, five days a week, with a shift on Saturday. Up until his body couldn’t take it. Later, we learned of the link between Welding and Dementia. There’s a higher risk factor for welders due to the toxic fumes collecting under masks, so you’re inhaling heavy metals in gas form. He logged a lot of hours, over a lot of years to earn that slow drawn out death sentence.
Watched him working multiple jobs and 16 hour days, doing what he had to do in order to raise his family, for many years. While I had to admire that hardcore work ethic, that’s not me. I put too high a value on my down time. I’m not willing to log that many hours in a week. I’ll gladly skip the whole “raising a family” part for living my life.
Which makes me far more selfish than he was.
The spring/summer of 1994 was especially hard for me, as I had learned that I’m not cut out for the life my dad had. I’d taken a two month break from my gas station overnight shift gig, to try and find something to build off. I worked for a month making Venetian Blinds, in Northeast Minneapolis, inside some really cool old buildings that are long gone, in a now completely gentrified area. After that, my dad got me a job at one of his part time gigs. They had a contract producing parts for Nordic Trac. My job was to load and unload metal pieces from a large robotic cutting machine. For $6/hour. I get it. New kid in the business, pay your dues type stuff. But I stood there doing that for 8 hours a day and couldn’t take the tedious boredom. Or the filthy conditions that came with running that machine. Or waking up at 5am, to sit in traffic on my way there. Then sit in traffic on my way home, to arrive around 6pm. Too tired to do anything.
I saw my dad coming in to start his second job, just as I was leaving for the night.
I knew he was proud that I had taken an interest and was kind-of following in his footsteps. So it sucked when I talked to Karen at the 99 Spillihp, got my job back, and had to call my boss and tell him it wasn’t working out. Then it really sucked telling my dad that job wasn’t working out. I didn’t want to disappoint him because I knew where he stood on what was important. Obviously a strong work ethic was big for him. And I quit doing what he does, to go back and work in a gas station. So I could sit and scribble tiny words in a notebook that no one would ever read. To then photocopy cut-up pieces of that writing, for slightly more than no one, would ever read. The only thing I could do was try and have a work ethic, but I was still more of an irresponsible, directionless fuck up.
We never really talked about me leaving that job. He understood my point of effort I was putting in, both time and labor-wise, to earn less than what the gas station was previously paying. So it was back to spending 5-6 graveyard shifts a week, scribbling in that notebook and hanging out with friends. Feeling extra guilty when my dad stopped in for coffee on his way to work. We never really had much in common or any established pattern of good communication to begin with… And now he can stop and see Doktor John shaving my head with the world’s dullest electric razor, in the middle of a gas station, at 3am… On his way to start his 16 hour day… See what your son is up to? Isn’t that great?
Karen, my dad, and Doktor John at the 99 Spillihp (parts ONE and TWO), September 2002.
One of my all time favorite photos.
All things considered, he was very supportive the following year, when I tried (and failed) at local community college…
Even more so a year after, when I decided to change everything and move to Denver, Colorado.
With hopes of figuring my life out, far away from everything easy and comfortable.
Which I was 100% determined to not fail at.
The highway going north was closed, so we needed to make a choice. My dad had me turn left, but then he remembered we should turn right, so I doubled back. The Rustic Inn on the corner would become The Fort for a while. Now known as The Hideout. No matter what you want to call it, I’m sure it’s pretty similar to its previous identities.
Route corrected, now heading east on County Road 19, passing the First State Bank of Stacy on our way out of town. Simply taking the long way to North Branch…
You can see from the map, our extended detour to North Branch thanks to the road closure. I wasn’t in a hurry, and was really enjoying the drive and pictures. Almost writing this story in my head as I drove. After getting home, I scribbled out some notes in preparation for the day I did actually write this story.
Only took 8 years.
Well, I wasn’t going all that much above 55…
There was very little for traffic out on this country roads, which added to my enjoyment to exploring this part of the state.
My dad didn’t have much to say around here, as I don’t think he was as familiar with this area. I tried to come up with questions about what we’d be driving past to get him thinking about it. He and I have always struggled with communicating. Never really understood why that was, it just always was. We’re both terrible at small talk and I think we just never really understood each other’s worlds. I wasn’t expecting to get much out of him, given his deteriorated state of mind, but there were times that silence was deafening. My mom said he’ll just sit quietly and watch the horizon. “It wont seem like he’s enjoying himself, but he is.”
I can’t imagine what living with Dementia would be like.
He died one year, one month and three weeks after the fire at the house.
I’ll never forget the image of him trying to process what had happened and what it all meant. My family was inside of our burned up house, every day for several weeks, looking for what we wanted to bother salvaging. Most of that time, my dad sat in a chair, someplace in the yard, staring blankly. When he’d come inside the house, he wouldn’t be able to say anything, get frustrated and go back outside. We all preferred him to stay out of the house. We were told the floors would be safe to walk on, but they were uneven and filled with collapsed ceiling and burned up house stuff. Given his diminished mental capacity and difficulty moving, we didn’t need him falling and getting hurt. He was always the sensible one with a solid plan, and the determination and focus to get it done. Seeing him unable to help or even talk about the tragedy was really hard.
One afternoon, he and I were standing in what was left of the kitchen. He start gesturing at the counter, that was covered by a bunch of melted plastic, ashes and the collapsed cupboards from above. After a few more tries, I saw what he wanted me to save…
The cribbage board he and my mom had used nearly every night since they met. As far as something he would felt sentimental about, he recognized and found this. Though he’d been unable to play cribbage anymore. The uncharred spot on top was where a mostly burned deck of cards was resting. He looked pleased when I pulled it out of the ashes and dusted it off. He went outside and sat back down on an unharmed chair we put outside for him. I tucked the cribbage board into a bag of stuff that would go to my car, and then to my house. Still have it today.
Two months after he died, I wrote a story about my dad and some burned up and smoke damaged model trains from my childhood, that were found after the fire. It was supposed to be a story about the demolition of a semi-famous model train store in Denver, but it became really personal as I wrote it.
Coming up on Sunrise River Bridge.
One of several crossings of the Sunrise River (or its tributaries) that we see on this drive.
The Sunrise River.
Which doesn’t look as impressive as it will when we cross it later this morning.
Not far from the river, is this pop-up neighborhood named Raspberry Hill. Assuming the town of Lindstrom (about 5000 people), less than a mile east of here, is the draw. We’re too far from Minneapolis/St. Paul for that daily commute. We didn’t go to Lindstrom, but it looks like a cool town, between the north and south Lindstrom Lake. Instead, we took County Road 14 north, to find the Sunrise.
Oh look, there’s the Sunrise River again!
I didn’t take many pictures along this stretch of road. There wasn’t a whole lot of landmarks to make note of. The scenery was nice… More small bodies of water, mixed with trees and marshes. Not even much for hills. And we completely missed Tomato Town!
Entering from the southeast, there’s the North Branch High School Football field. Currently undergoing some summer 2018 renovations. After taking a right onto Grand Avenue, we were in North Branch proper.
There’s Absolute Chaos, resting quietly in front of Elite Auto Works. Not very chaotic, but you also don’t see monster trucks just hanging out very often. So it needed a drive by picture. Wish it was in focus…
We ended up driving into North Branch, instead of continuing on our route. My dad needed a restroom, so we chose Casey’s. Then made a U-Turn to go back east. I wanted to highlight this image because it features the old Casey’s logo. Far superior to the one they’ve been using for the last few years. Didn’t grab a slice of Casey’s pizza. Probably should have. It’s always good.
Merchants State Bank was built in 1930, but it isn’t a bank anymore. After a stretch as a law office (and likely more businesses I’m not aware of), the Merchants Cafe opened up. Flipping through the photos on the Googles, I see the bank vault doors are still installed. Probably because they look awesome and removing them would be too difficult and costly.
A block east is the Pizza Pub. Also looked them up on the Googles, as I liked the look of the building. The pictures of food in the online reviews also look really good. Reviews themselves are a mixed bag, with food skewing better than the service. Since this is very far out of my range for picking up pizza, I’ll likely never go there.
Heading for the exit out of North Branch, I wanted to snap a picture of this banner. It actually worked.
Just outside of town, I was happy to get this photo of North Branch Salvage. With that hilarious tiny replacement A.
Looking at this picture gives me flashbacks to Bunker Lake Blvd., circa 1980. A road travelled with my dad far more than my mom back then. The interesting surroundings planted seeds for what I’d be paying attention to in the future. Similar to how my dad tipped me off on the value of keeping a journal, in early 1986. Probably the most significant advice he’d given me. “In 50 years, you can look back at everything. Even if it’s just writing the weather down.”
At least I chose this piece of advice to listen to, over all the others I ignored…
Otherwise you wouldn’t be reading this now!
Completely out of town and eastbound on the old St.Croix Trail.
In a few miles, the trail would intersect with Sunrise Road. We’d make a left turn and head north…
To drive by this old barn!
Not far down the road, my dad alerted me to a semi-hidden turn off to the left. He said he had a friend that lived down here, and wanted to see if he was home. That’s cool. But I’d hoped he was thinking of the right details for this situation. I know nothing about where I am, so I’m of no help.
Though I really did enjoy driving the path through trees. This path was well maintained, so it wasn’t like my dad was taking me off-roading in a 2008 Chevy Impala. With a nasty oil leak.
Ended up going pretty deep into the trees, before finding the house my dad was looking for. This reminded me of what the neighborhood I grew up in was like, before the housing development came in and ruined all of it.
Coon Rapids, MN, Summer of 1984… Shenandoah Blvd. and 128th Avenue, looking west. The trees are all different, but the atmosphere is similar. In the distance, my dad is driving the old blue pickup truck he bought from his dad, not long before this picture was taken.
I grew up on this street. It ruled.
Until it didn’t…
Oh, and the guy my dad wanted to see wasn’t home.
So it’s back to driving north on County Rd 9, AKA Sunrise Road. Just before we get to the tiny village of Sunrise, the road we are traveling on acquires another name. County Road 81 ends at a T, but that road’s nickname smashes into Sunrise Road, adding on the St. Croix Scenic Byway. Didn’t realize how close this area is to the Wisconsin border. With the St. Croix River flowing between them. Less than 2 miles north of where we were driving.
I was wrong in calling Sunrise a tiny village. Sunrise is actually an unincorporated community in the Sunrise Township, in east Chisago County. According to the Sunrise sign, Sunrise was the birfplace of famous actor, Richard Widmark (1914-2008). I don’t know how famous he was, but I’m not a good barometer for levels of fame. He was in a ton of movies, TV shows and other forms of mid-20th century entertainment, but I hadn’t heard of him before. Also hadn’t seen anything he appeared in, looking though his bio. Again, I have no accurate critique. I can’t remember the last movie I watched that wasn’t a documentary.
Either way, we made it to Sunrise. This was a destination my dad tried to describe before we left. But he couldn’t remember much about it, or couldn’t communicate much about it, until we got here.
There isn’t much more of the unincorporated community of Sunrise, than you can see in this picture. Some scattered houses and a few buildings I haven’t shown yet. The building at the center of this picture is the Sunrise Ice Cream and Snack Shoppe, with several small buildings around it, used for the Sunrise River Tubing rides.
The Ice Cream and Snack Shoppe is set up inside the old Sunrise Bank building. This shot was taken from the space where I parked the car. We’ll get to the Bank of Ice Cream soon enough, I want to look around first…
Sunrise River Tubing is dealt with at this little building. From what I understand, you pay the fee here, pick up your tube and head down to the river. Jump in with your tube and ride the river north, to just about where it spills into the St. Croix. Someone will pick you up and drive you back here. The “open” sign is turned off, but there’s a bunch of shoes sitting on the rack. Assuming they’re out on a pick up mission at the moment. There’s a road just outside of town that meets up with the Sunrise River, and follows it to the boat launch on the St. Croix.
Tube Pick-Up Only.
So don’t even think about doing anything else here!
Behind the first tube shack is an above ground fuel (Kerosine?) tank connected to an early 1980’s era digital gas pump. Next to that is an old St. Paul Pioneer Press newspaper vending box. Looking at the most recent Googlesmobile drive-by, the newspaper box is gone, but the gas pump remains.
Ooohh… It’s Super Unleaded!
Doubtful the digital readout still works, from the looks of the pump.
Today I learned that Gilbraco (the brand name on the pump) is part of Veeder-Root. A name I remember from the 99 Spillihp days. Gilbraco Veeder-Root manufactures and sells gas tank and pump systems for retail and commercial use. The system at 99 Spillihp was all Veeder-Root, named as such on the machine attached to the wall, that we could read the fuel levels in the underground tanks off.
They’re still quite a successful business today, so perhaps Sunrise River Tube could make a phone call and get this pump running again!
Someone must have already snapped up the St. Paul Pioneer Press newspaper box. This one is from the mid-1990’s, as the cost of a paper was still 35 cents. ($1.50 for Sunday.) Around this time, the Minneapolis Star Tribune was charging 50 cents for a paper, so St. Paul offered a better deal.
No one reads newspapers anymore, so no one puts effort into producing newspapers anymore. But both the Star Tribune and Pioneer Press are still printing daily newspapers today. With very little content for very inflated prices. I miss newspapers of 30 years ago. They were a great daily read to keep you at least somewhat informed about stuff going on. I look at a newspaper today and there’s so little there, why bother? I do miss the format, and it was easier to read a newspaper than to wade through the muck of trying to read news online.
That’s progress…
Beyond all of that, is an unpaved access road (which is now paved) for whatever businesses and houses are along here. After we were done here, we took it when we left, since I was parked on the street. It loops around to Wilcox Road, that leads you back to the St. Croix Scenic Byway, which I was standing next to when I took this picture.
Back across the street for a look at the bank building.
Funny… The most recent Googlesmobile drive-by shows the St. Paul Pioneer Press newspaper box has been moved from in from of the fuel tank, to the patio of the bank building. So that is actually progress. Though I kind of doubt a St. Paul Pioneer Press rep drives up here every morning to fill it.
My dad said the bank has since been a general merchandise store, and a pizza and grill restaurant, before being an ice cream shop. He and my mom had been here a few times on their drive, and he still knew a fair amount about it. My patented half-assed research found that it was built between 1940 and 1950, but I can’t guarantee that is correct. Just where I drew the line on research…
Rusted Salem Cigarettes advertisement attached by the front door of the former bank. Assuming from its days as a general store. Appears there are remnants of several advertisements, partially attached to the rusted up sign.
My dad smoked cigarettes for most of his life until finally kicking them in the early 2010’s. Old Gold Lights. I’ll always remember that pack design… Even at an early age, I understood his smoking routine. Out in the garage, while welding, away from everyone else. Then it was the semi-regular front porch breaks. Before I started smoking, I almost admired that break in activity, used to stare off into space, puffing a cigarette, clearing your mind of whatever is bothering you.
He found out I smoked in 1999, when my parents were visiting Colorado. They were staying with my sister, who lived in Lakewood. He was coming over alone early one morning, while the rest of them slept. I didn’t sleep back then. Too busy being in my early 20’s. After he called to say he was on his way, I went outside my apartment for a cigarette before he showed up. I was in Englewood, so I figured I had time while he drove from Lakewood.
Nope.
He walked up and said: “Better give me one…” And that was that. For pretty much the next decade, we bummed each other smokes, and kept that secret between the two of us. Even when he’d “quit”, I’d still bum him a smoke from time to time.
A few months ago, I wrote about my experiences with quitting cigarettes.
As far as how that’s going… I’m not here to talk about the past…
He said they were trying to expand the ice cream shop into more of a restaurant again. They had an out-of-commission pizza oven, and some soup warmers. But for now, limited to just selling ice cream and candy. Plus a few other things that would work with the river tubing venture. Like bottles of Pepsi or Mountain Dew, and bags of chips. We sat and had a cup of ice cream, selected from the 20 flavors of Bridgeman’s Ice Cream they had on hand. My dad always liked ice cream, and would make excuses to have some. But I gotta say, this mid-restoration building was a cool setting.
Before leaving, I went down to the basement, where the restroom was. Less about needing to use it, more about wanting to see another part of the old bank building!
As I was helping him to my car, I said that I wanted to get a picture of him standing in front of the bank. Whoever’s car that was car would be unavoidable in any picture. But my dad interpreted it as he should just stop right there. Well, that works I guess… It was easier to just include that car in front of him, then to make a big deal about looking for a better angle.
He’s sporting his typical uniform of well worn blue jeans, t-shirt and an unbuttoned flannel over it. Both front pockets stuffed with things he’d need to keep on him for easy access. Without really intending, I adopted that same style early on. In high school, a friend of mine once told me to dress better: “Give your dad his flannel shirt back.” I can’t, it’s way too large for him to wear. (I was about 8 inches taller than my dad, when I was in high school.) For me, that style was adapted from flannel shirts to plan color (black or grey only) work shirts. Never buttoned, but with the same front pockets stuffed with the things I need easy access to. Pen, notepad, cigarettes and lighter (sometimes more than others), and phone.
Guess it’s the uniform of the male side of our family.
Once he was settled in the car, I told him I was going to quickly run down and get some pictures of the river and bridge.
But first!
My patented half-assed research lead me to this photo of the former Sunrise Bank, in 1973. It was included in the book: Sunrise Kost Almelund by Theodore A. Norelius, and uploaded to Facebook, by Harry Colwell.
Love that Grain Belt beer sign!
Wanted a shot of this old building on the opposite corner of River Road and the St. Croix Scenic Byway.
Unfortunately, I have no idea of its history, but it looks old and cool.
Sitting maybe 40 feet behind it is the former Sunrise schoolhouse and town hall, named after Frank O. Lowden. According to (a photo I found online, of the) plaque outside the building, Lowden was born outside Sunrise in 1861, and went to school here until he was 7, when the family moved to Iowa. Lowden would go on to become the Governor of Illinois, from 1917-1921. He also was a Republican candidate for president in 1920. Ultimately losing to Warren G. Harding.
The schoolhouse/town hall was built in 1861. Frank O. Lowden’s father Lorenzo, helped build it. Today it’s designated a historical landmark, and home to the Sunrise Community Museum. It was used as the town hall until a few years ago, when a new one was built about a mile up the road.
Bridge over the Sunrise River.
And the bridge’s ID and date of birth.
Sunrise River as flows under the bridge.
And back to the car…
Quick check of the map, using the benefit of hindsight!
We’re leaving Sunrise, represented on the map by a blue highlighted segment of the Sunrise River, accomplished with Overpriced Art School brand Overpriced Colored Pencils! We’ll continue driving northwest, until we get to Harris. I just didn’t know any of this at the time. Still driving where he told me. So far, it was a long winding road for Ice Cream.
Who knows what’s next?
As I mentioned earlier, we left Sunrise via the road that we parked on. As it looped around to the St. Croix Scenic Byway, we passed Olson Field. Baseball is played here.
My dad wasn’t a baseball fan. (Though he did enjoy it when former Twins manager, Ron Gardenhire, would lose his shit after being ejected from games. Which happened a lot.) He didn’t actually follow any sports. There wasn’t time for that stuff, since he was always working. That makes it tough when you don’t have any typical father/son type things to bond over. We had very little in common when I was growing up. And as adults, I lived 1000 miles away from pretty much age 21-43. Conversation was always forced because we were both share strong introverted personalities. Which I didn’t understand when I was kid, but looking back today, a great deal of things make perfect sense.
When we did find something that was a bonding point, I tried to build on it. It certainly wasn’t anything related to our respective occupations, though a minor part of it was work ethic. Thinking about it now, about the only thing I can firmly say we had in common was comedy. Not common comedic subjects, but the general idea. About 25 years ago, I found out he liked George Carlin, so I made him copies of all of Carlin’s CD’s, for him to play in his truck during a lengthy commute to one of his jobs. But I’d take it too far and play a comedian I liked, that went too far for him. Which would be met with more uncomfortable silence.
Different generations… Always seems like that gap would never close.
Leaving Sunrise, we continued north on St. Croix Scenic Byway.
Not far from town, I wanted to make note of this old silver horse trailer. Thought it looked cool.
Our route was mostly flat, so I was happy to find a brief uphill climb for something new.
Saw this old barn, which looked like it was about to fall over. Retracing our route on the Googles to see if it may or may not still be standing. Took a bit to find it, thanks to tree cover, but I’m happy to report that it’s still there!
Fate of this dilapidated old house was the direct opposite. Obviously you can’t do much with this existing structure, so it was demolished in 2025. Glad I got this picture while speeding by.
Googles showed that a new house was built in its place.
So I’m sad this awesome abandoned building is gone, but the land has a better use now.
The new house (and the old one as well) was just outside our next destination, Harris, Minnesota.
Brief pause for a photo looking downtown Harris, including the water tower. That’s still there today. We are turning left, onto Forest Blvd. The St. Croix Scenic Byway name takes a right turn to go north at this intersection. Well we’re going south, so goodbye St. Croix!
Harris Country Charm Mercahntile Antiques Store. It’s now closed, but lasted until sometime between September 2023 and June 2025. The span between the last two Googlesmobile drive-by’s through Harris.
Their sign was colorful. And I’m assuming the misspelled “Merchantile” was done on purpose.
We had actually parked across the street, in front of Kaffe Stuga. A restaurant my dad has loved for years. I’d never been here before, so we were stopping in for lunch, before making our way back home. The place was very busy, with only a handful of tables that would empty and re-fill the entire time we were they. He ordered a breakfast of 2 eggs, toast, hash brown and bacon, and I went with a Patty Melt. My go to burger at these restaurants. If you have a good Patty Melt, I’m a forever fan.
You succeeded Kaffe Stuga! Food was excellent, and it was a great value for the amount of food you get. No idea if/when I’ll get back up there, but I’d absolutely eat there again.
Kaffe Stuga (meaning Coffee House in Swedish) operates from the same building, opened in 1959. Though an addition has greatly added seating capacity. Assuming this photo is from the opening in 1959, since it was undated. It was one of several framed photos and stuff on the walls.
This was my favorite…
I know we’re going to have a treat… ‘Cause Mom’s a whiz at cooking MEAT!
Driving around looking at things away from home, followed by eating at a local restaurant was something my dad loved to do. While we ate, I kept thinking about a similar day, 8 years earlier. The drive wasn’t as grand, but it was another day forever burned in my memory.
In May 2010, I was visiting Minnesota from Denver, with my then-girlfriend. We’d been together for about 3 years at that point, and everything was quickly going south. Tried to slog my way through with a happy face, but I was miserable, and she was being a stupid twat around my family. At one point when we were alone, I told her she needed to cool it, and she threw her cell phone at my head while I was driving.
One of the mornings I was in town, my dad and I went for a drive around industrial areas of northeast Minneapolis, and the missing Lowery Avenue Bridge (I took not nearly enough photos that morning). Before our drive, we had breakfast at the BK Cafe in Coon Rapids. One of his favorite places to go since the late 1980’s, he was really bummed out when they closed. After we ate, we stood outside his truck smoking a cigarette (he was still driving in 2010), he said to me: “You have to get rid of that girl.”
He then cited a lengthy list of examples supporting his stance. What he didn’t know was his list was just the introduction to the multiple volumes of examples I’d spent the last six months compiling. After he was finished stating his case, I said: “Yeah… I don’t think she’s going to be around much longer.”
A lot of stuff happened after we got back to Denver. By the first week of July, she was already living with the guy she’d marry the next summer (and divorce not long after). When I called my parents to tell them we split up, my dad asked: “So what are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know… I’m going to work now.”
“Good.”
And that was how we interacted. Everything was brief and no bullshit. We’d eliminated small talk decades ago, so our conversations were brief, but the limited words spoke volumes. In May, he was warning me about what was going on, and I agreed. He respected my judgement with my answer. After it all went down, he respected that I was going to work, instead of sitting home moping. Don’t get me wrong, I was absolutely destroyed over what happened, and the way it all went down. But I knew I had to forge on. My bills don’t care that I’m sad and angry. I have to be responsible and work to pay them.
That’s the number one lesson I learned from my dad.
Life will throw a lot of shit at you. Just keep your head down and forge on. That is all you can do. Whatever you have to do to support yourself and your family. You have to keep that roof over your head. That’s the bottom line. His life was doing everything in his power to provide for his family. No matter how he was feeling that day, he forged on… Because he had to.
I think that whole situation in 2010, proved to him that all of the messages came through. When I was at my most absolutely destroyed, I was handling it all like he would have. He did his job. Despite all the imperfections, it was as perfect a job as he could have done.
The Kaffe Stuga sign above a table umbrella. A green Minneapolis Star Tribune newspaper vending box rests against a light pole. Likely tired after the grueling duel with arch rival St. Paul Pioneer Press newspaper vending box, back in Sunrise.
There would be no post eating cigarette smoked at my car, on this day in June 2018. He’d been free for years, while I was in my 11th month free. Though cracks were definitely forming in that foundation.
There were also no negative comments made about my relationship with Laura. He liked her.
On our way back to my car, I had to snap a photo of the rusted out VW Beetle, stuck in the weeds in front of Happily Ever After Tattoos. Among the stickers that you can read, is a Bush/Cheney ’04 affixed to the rear window. I’m going to ignore the disgusting parallels between what they did with Iraq, and President Pig Shit pulling the same WMD scare (in nuclear form, this time) to justify an Iran war.
Anyways…
While doing my Googles route retrace, I wanted to check on the stranded Beetle at the tattoo shop…
Hmmm…
Gonna have to remove that tree from the passenger seat to drive it off the lot…
We would only be staying on Forest Blvd. for about two blocks, before heading west, out of Harris, on Stark Road.
Not sure how much use these railroad tracks see anymore. They dead end in North Branch, with the old railbed south of town, converted to a bike trail. This rail line goes up to Hinkley, where it joins another set up to Duluth.
Just after the railroad tracks, I found an abandoned bank!
Minor detour on our way back home.
Mindful of my dad in the car, I opted for a simple drive around the building. Rather than a preferred park and walk.
Going around back.
Approaching the drive up lanes.
The bank tube launcher tube has been removed, leaving the open-ended tube simply dangling with no launcher to supply the canister… Oh wait! There’s a piece of paper stuck to the window. Guess I will get out and read it.
This branch of the Lake Area Bank has closed on June 15, 2016.
Exactly two years and one week before my visit.
I now regret not taking window pictures, as none of them were covered. But since he’d now eaten, my dad was showing signs of wanting to get home. And we were at least an hour away. So I didn’t want to waste too much time.
Harris 61 Stop across the street from the closed Lake Area Bank.
Empty Lake Area Bank sign frame.
Waiting for the Coke truck to pass so I can get back on Stark Road.
One last look at the Lake Area Bank as we make our way to the interstate.
In 2023, the bank building saw the canopy removed and a new roof installed.
After a drastic makeover, D&G Electric opened up in the space.
Harris’ baseball field.
Crossing over Interstate 35. We would take it south to 95 in North Branch, then west on County Road 5 (Heritage Blvd) to rejoin Highway 65. This was his suggested route, and I’m game. At this point, I could tell he was getting tired. This would be the best route for getting home. Plus, if he dozed off again, I’d be able to find our way back with no issues.
Falcon & Flink, Sunrise Butt.
Well that’s how I read the sign when I was labelling these pictures.
Shortly after turning onto County Road 5 (Heritage Blvd), we pass this little roadside pond. Nothing special, but I still snapped a picture of it. Later found out it’s part of a river draining from Mud Lake, into the North Branch Sunrise River. Which eventually finds its way to the Sunrise River, which flows into Sunrise, then out to the St. Croix River.
And you know where that goes…
Meanwhile, in the passenger seat, my dad was falling asleep.
I was so happy to get this photo of that Green garage looking building, with the wavy collapsing roof.
This was one of the hardest landmarks to find on the Googles. I had no clue where it was on the drive, because I didn’t know what roads we drove back on. Luckily it was located at the end of a three-way intersection, but I was way off. I traced each east/west road between 35 and 65 until I found it.
Looked so bad in the picture I took, I needed to see what happened to it when the Googlesmobile saw it…
June 2019, Googlesmobile Drive-by: We have total roof collapse, taking out most of the front of the building.
October 2023, Googlesmobile Drive-by: Debris cleared out and walls reduced to waist high in places.
Orange shipping container placed on the foundation.
June 2025, Googlesmobile Drive-by: Orange shipping container moved to the right side of the foundation.
All walls removed.
Kind of a sad end.
Let’s cheer things up with a cartoon my dad drew!
Every once in a while my dad would draw the back end of a male cat, with his tail raised. He always wrote “Top Cat” under it. This drawing would appear on magazines, envelopes, junk mail, whatever was sitting on the table when he sat down and was bored. I remember seeing this cat drawing dating back to when I was a little kid. Never knew why he drew it, but it amused him. When I found that he drew this on a sheet of paper I’d written my sister’s phone number on, back in 2005, it became part of my permanent collection.
That is all.
Further up Heritage Blvd., I spotted this ripped curved roof on a barn-like building.
Well that certainly needs a follow up…
You’ll be happy to learn that the roof had been replaced, less than a year later.
Rounding the curve into Isanti…
Oh look, it’s Highway 65!
We’re up in the part of Anoka County where Sylvester Salvage used to be. My dad took me here once in 1985, and I bought a beat up copy of a Mad Magazine Super Special for 85 cents. It was a large, old, dingy, unorganized store that smelled of smoke. Most of their inventory was purchased from businesses that had been through either a fire or flood. So you never really knew what would be for sale there, but the prices would be very low in comparison to new retail. According to stories from former employees, damaged merchandise would sometimes arrive wet, which would be laid out on the grass to dry. Once semi-acceptable, it would be brought inside for sales. Most of the stuff for sale was generally fine, but I don’t who in their right mind would buy food from here.
But salvaged food was on sale here!
Advertisement for Sylvester Salvage’s disposable diaper sale, from the June 25th, 1976 Bi-Centennial edition of the Anoka County Union. Which I salvaged from the fire that destroyed my parents house, in May 2020.
(Hmmmmm… Maybe I should review that newspaper for a story?)
Sylvester Salvage was run by the Sylvester family, who also operated a lumber yard on the opposite side of Highway 65. The Salvage store was built on the family farm, which still had pigs and cows behind the store. It wasn’t a store my dad visited often, but it was a business I was aware of because of him. Highway 65 was a great place for my dad to pick up auto supplies, welding supplies and other specialty or outdated items related to his hobbies/employment.
Still have good memories of riding along with my dad in the late 1970’s and 1980’s, when he would go out to whatever building had a needed part for his welding projects. Back then, once you went north of 242 (or its newer names, Main Street, 125th Avenue or County Road 14), Highway 65 looked pretty grim. Abandoned buildings galore, with independent garages and light industrial shops sprinkled among them. Scattered houses fronting the highway were all really old and run down. The area has been completely cleaned up over the last 45 years, but I still have some vivd pictures in my mind of how it looked back then.
I always wondered what happened to Sylvester Salvage. Of course the Googles satellite view shows newer homes and a road extending to the back of what used to be the farm. Then I amped up my patented half-ass research and found an online thread that included members of the Sylvester family. According to what they (and others) wrote. One afternoon in June 1986, the electric company (NSP?) was out doing some work at the store. About an hour after they left, there was an electrical short and within minutes the entire building was engulfed in flames. The building and everything in and around it was a total loss.
Ironic that nothing could be salvaged from a fire in a building that sold inventory salvaged from businesses that were in a fire.
The owners of the store didn’t rebuild. According to their daughter, they kept a framed photo of the burning Sylvester Salvage store in their dining room. You could see fire inside all of the windows and doors, flames and billows of smoke towering over the building. Amazing how fast and intense it burned. She shared the photo in the thread. I wanted to include it in this story, but out of respect to the family, I won’t.
Here’s another property that looks as if its from still from 1981…
It was a gas station many years ago (built in 1971), but they never bothered to removed their 1970’s era gas pumps. An empty pole sign stands at the driveway entrance, reading “Lynn’s Groceries Gas” with all of the other fields and gas prices, whited out. I don’t know when Lynn’s closed. According to Googlesmobile drive-by’s, it was open in 2011, but closed by 2016. It was still vacant in 2018, when I took this picture. And would still be vacant in 2019, thanks to Googles.
Today it’s the home of Another Man’s Treasure. Buy! Sell! Trade! A second hand store that specializes in tools, sporting goods, guns and stuff that’s more centered to dudes, and things I don’t/can’t relate to… The type of business my dad would have gone to 40 years ago. Or today if he still had interest or mental capacity for his old hobbies. From what I’ve seen online in the photos, It’s similar to Sylvester Salvage, if the merchandise was simply used instead of having gone through a flood while being on fire. Don’t know if I’d find anything I’d feel compelled to buy, but I would be interested in checking the place out at some point.
In 2019, they were located a few miles south of here, across the highway from the East Bethel Theater. Between 2019 and 2024, Another Man’s Treasure moved into Lynn’s. Their old store was demolished in favor of a new state of the art Kwik Trip.
My dad had completely checked out and was napping hardcore, when we drove through Soderville. Ham Lake Liquor and the Maxx Bar & Grill, stand in front of the bleak Crosstown Shopping Center.
Crosstown Shopping Center (or DVS Crosstown Mall), home of a bank you can’t see because it’s cut off in the picture, Little Red Wagon Child Care (now Foundations Christian Academy), Anoka County DMV and Library (smart and practical tenants for a semi-rural vacant shopping center), Ultimate Martial Arts Academy, Dominos Pizza, Subway and Cowboy Church. Formerly the home of Soderquist’s Market. The long time grocery store closed between 2011 and 2016.
Now the Crosstown Shopping Center wouldn’t be the same thing as a fully enclosed shopping mall, but it brings to mind another another of my favorite memories of my dad. When my sister and I were kids, and we’d go on family vacations to Duluth (twice a year), or Florida (a semi-yearly occurrence in the mid-1980’s). Inevitably we’d end up at whatever local shopping mall was around the hotel.
Mariner Mall, in Superior, Wisconsin, was a common setting for what was played out in many locations. It’s now the Mariner Business Center, after closing to the public about 15 years ago. But back in the 1980’s, it was a decent second tier shopping mall. Typically, my mom and sister would go off on their own, while my dad and I would do the same. We’d all meet up at a central location, after a certain amount of time. My dad and I would be done early, because there was no need to take a bunch of extra time in a shopping mall. So we’d inevitably sit at the designated meeting point and wait for them to be an hour late after our agreed time.
During these times, he taught me the valuable skill of People Watching. Sitting on a bench, watching the people going by, quietly mumbling a running commentary about what he sees. Which makes me laugh. To them, it’s a father and son, talking and laughing in a common area of a shopping mall. That’s very wholesome! Only I’m laughing because he pointed out the ridiculously huge nose on a guy. Or the disproportioned butt on that middle aged woman.
Establishing a new link in the long family history of judging and mocking, you might say. But I’ll say stuff like this helped shape and form my world view at a young age. For better or worse… Come on… We’re all guilty of doing this…
I shared my Ham Lake Lanes story a few months ago, mixed in with Ham Lake Burger Time. Only including a picture here because this a better photo than I took a couple months ago.
Winnick’s was an advertiser mixed in the cycle of or pre-preview ads shown at the East Bethel Theater, back in the 1990’s. Haven’t heard it in over 30 years, but I can still hear the nasally voice over speaking words like “Winnick’s” and “Chanticleer” and “Soderville”, amongst others. It's Minnesota... That voice over was likely recorded while he had a sinus infection.
Wish I had a recording of that ad loop today…
Randomly picked this cluster of buildings for a quick drive by photo. They reminded me of what I saw around here 40 years ago. Although these look a lot better than most of what was around then.
Funny enough, not even a year after I took that picture, this very spot on Highway 65 was chosen for a turnaround. Thanks Googles! These turnarounds have been placed all along highway 65, due to the incredible amount of crashes taking place at four way intersections. Now cross traffic has to use these turnaround lanes. If you are approaching 65 from the west side, and you want to either make a left turn, or continue east, you must first make a right turn. Then you clear the intersection, make a U-turn and double back.
And that’s enough of a pain in the ass that I’ll just avoid any sort of turning on and off 65…
In the rare chance that I’m actually driving on it.
North Country RV existed in one form or another, for decades. Still there today. Must suck to get one of them dislodged from the far back of the lot, when somebody wants a test drive…
Before we leave Highway 65 and Blaine, I’m going to throw these next two photos out here. They’re not part of this story, but they’re Highway 65 adjacent, and from 1982 or 1983. Now, why they chose to take these photos is lost to time…
I’m almost positive this first one is taken from the southwest corner of 242 & 65, looking north.
I can’t identify the gas station in front.
My mom said she was pretty sure the second picture was taken in the Pioneer Village (now Blaine Town Center) parking lot.
No idea on the direction.
So yeah. I found these pictures amongst the stuff salvaged from the parents house.
I can’t imagine them fitting into another story, so they go here.
Years ago, my dad told me the county ruined Bunker Lake, back in the early 1970’s, when they tried to clear out an area to create a swimming beach. Which would have been a great feature for Bunker Lake Park, to pair with Bunker Lake Golf Course. Allegedly, they dug too deep and destroyed the floor of the lake, causing it to drain. It never really recovered, which is why there’s just a small puddle surrounded by dried up swamp. I was unable to find any sort of documentation regarding this. He was living in Coon Rapids at the time, and would have likely heard things in his network. So who knows if that is true.
But it’s one of many things he told me that I just remember.
And here we are at the Andover Kwik Trip, back where we started.
******
In October, 2003, I made what would be a temporary, 19 month return to Minnesota. The first couple of months were spent in semi-daily therapy sessions with my Doktor, at his Flintwood office. One day, he asked me what my plans were, now that I was back. I said I hoped to find a decent/equivillent job to what I had in Denver. I also wanted to try and improve me relationship with my dad. We discussed how being gone for six key years, and coming back to be the same person, isn’t going to be easy. “Not likely much ground to be broken there…”
Loved and respected the man, but we were never really friends. It’s a hard thing to look back on actually. We were so different as people that it was hard to find common ground. We got along, but we didn’t know how to communicate. He was very happy for me when I moved back to Colorado in May, 2005. “That’s where you should be.” He said.
Another 5 hour therapy session with my Doktor took place in January 2005, at his new office located in the Townhome of the Perpetual 21st Birthday. This was during a false start in my planned Colorado return. Mixup at my perspective job hit a snag and a three month delay. That night, we covered everything that had taken place during my Minnesota return, eventually to the subject of our fathers.
My dad was set to have rotator cuff surgery, in mid January 2005. Two months later, he and my mom were going to drive to Texas, then west to California, up the west coast to Seattle, then back across to Minnesota. With 3-4 weeks set aside for it, and an itinerary of whatever, it sounded like a great time for both of them. Their dream vacation was be funded by the disability settlement reached with his former employer, after several workplace accidents took his ability to his job away.
Las Vegas, April, 2005.
(That’s not my mom. She’s taking the picture.)
I moved back to Colorado about a week after they got back to Minnesota.
I’d stay out there until June, 2018.
This all hadn’t yet happened in January 2005, when I was discussing it with my Doktor. That night, I thought I’d be leaving Minnesota in the next few days. The email chain I’d been on with my former job was almost to the “Come out so we can discuss” point. Well that became: “Things change…” The very next morning, after I left his office. As I’d said, we talked about our fathers that night. And our shared inability to communicate with them. And how we hated it. Both of us expressed the same thought…
“I’m gonna regret this when he’s gone..”
My dad holding me, his dad behind him. December 1975.
Now that I have 50+ years of perspective, and have a pretty good idea of who I am and what makes me tick, I understand my dad a lot more. His dad died in January 1986, and lived 4 hours away, so I didn’t really know him too well. But from what I remember my dad saying about him. They had the about same relationship. Only there wasn’t nearly as much support. Hearing stories about how his father was, and what I remember of how my dad was, and knowing what I know of myself, a lot of things make sense today.
Who they were, and who I am, and why that is.
Love you dad.
Nothing ever works out perfect, but you worked your ass off for us. And I’ll always respect that.
yeah…
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