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Gus Gus’ passing reminds us of the beauty of life’s fragility

It seems cruel to be writing about loss again so soon. But this week we said goodbye to our oldest dog, Gus Gus, after a short fight against cancer. Gus Gus was only 7 years old, and that only sharpens the pain of what seems to be our family’s neverending season of grief. However, if you would have known Gus Gus, dwelling only on his loss would be a disservice to his memory and a taint on his legacy of unconditional love he taught us. Gus Gus — or G-Town, or Big Swagger, or Gussy GooGoo Puppy PooPoo, as his mom liked to refer to him — came to us in a big ol’ package of ...

Our Outdoors: Trip Tips for Late Ice Pike

The wet years of the late 1990s spurred a boom in northern pike fisheries across the upper Midwest, and in those early 2000s after flooded sloughs and high water levels in my native North Dakota harbored the fingerlings from incredible spawns each spring, solid pike fisheries were abundant. With the catches my friends and fishing buddies tallied, I quickly learned how to Y-bone fish in the five-to-eight pound range, and we had more than enough pike to fill a freezer or fuel fish fries until spring. Far easier to catch than walleye, and certainly an all-day affair on the ice, chasing ...

Now what?

In case you haven't noticed, life is full of 'Now What?' moments. We might think of such moments as a pain in the neck, but maybe those times are portals to opportunities. Just imagine where you could go or what you could do. Going back to when we were youngsters and just graduating from high school, many of us experienced a huge 'Now What?' period of time. What am I going to do after school? After all, I've been in school for twelve years. Good grief, now what? Of course, there were times when some of us didn't have an option because the draft board was waiting for ...

Authentic faith inherently political

Sometimes I imagine heaven as the church basement of my childhood. I grew up in a picturesque Southern California town nestled in the foothills of the San Gabriel Mountains, where our bustling non‑denominational evangelical church seemed to anchor the community. The church basement was where life happened: funeral lunches, wedding receptions, family movie nights, holiday potlucks and more. It was a joy-filled place where I could simply show up and know I would be fed, known, and loved. That basement felt like home and maybe even heaven. In that church, I was faithfully taught the ...

Conducting amateur archeology

have been doing a bit of amateur archeology lately, digging deep, excavating through layers of an all-but-forgotten past. This process is sometimes painful as it causes me to review the awful fashion and haircut choices I made when I was growing up. Digging through old family photos can cause a guy to become caught in a vortex of nostalgia. What happened to that young, carefree boy who seemed to have the fashion sense of a hobo? The kid who had an at-home haircut that appeared to involve a bowl placed on the head? The happy-go-lucky lad who looked as concerned about his ...

A Bad Bunny with a good message

I like Bad Bunny. There, I said it. I lost a few readers there. I don’t speak Spanish. My daughter Abby does. (Shout out to Abby’s high school Spanish teacher, Gail Bromenschenkel. You done good!) Abby has lived in Spain, Guatemala, and Colombia. Many of her friends are Spanish speaking. Some years ago, Abby put me onto Spanish music. It’s my music of choice when I’m jogging the lake trail. Juanes, Shakira, and Morat are favorites. Bad Bunny has joined my playlist. I don’t speak Spanish. But I enjoy the sound of the language. It has a beautiful cadence and rhythm, ...