Loading summary
Transcript65 lines
- [00:01]
Progressive Insurance Announcer
This episode is brought to you by Progressive Insurance. Do you ever think about switching insurance companies to see if you could save some cash? Progressive makes it easy to see if you could save when you bundle your home and auto policies. Try it@progressive.com Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates potential savings will vary. Not available in all states. Support for this podcast comes from Progressive, America's number one motorcycle insurer. Did you know? Writers who switch and save with Progressive save nearly $200 per year. That's a whole new pair of writing gloves and more. Quote Today Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates national average 12 month savings of $197 by new customers surveyed who saved with Progressive between October 2024 and September 2025. Potential savings will vary.
- [00:53]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Garagelogic isn't just another podcast. It's a trusted voice with a loyal audience. Every day listeners tune in and pay
- [01:00]
Garagelogic Advertising Executive (Mark Ellis)
attention to the businesses we feature.
- [01:02]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
When you advertise with garagelogic, you're putting your brand in front of people who listen and act. We're number one in Anguilla and we'll make your business number one with G. Ellers. Here's what one of our clients had to say.
- [01:14]
Guest Speaker (Mel Sheehan)
Hey, it's Pete Arnold from Hire It Pro and I've used garagelogic to promote my business for years and I have seen great results and new clients for my services from the GL audience. I recommend it to any business looking for new customers.
- [01:25]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Giles are pretty awesome. You just gotta ask for an introduction. You just heard how garagelogic delivers results for our advertising partners. Now it's your turn. Reach our engaged audience of G allers and grow your business by contacting account
- [01:39]
Garagelogic Advertising Executive (Mark Ellis)
executive mark ellis@mark.ellisbi.com that's mark.ellisbi.com Put your
- [01:47]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
message where it belongs, right in the ears of listeners who trust Garage Logic.
- [02:06]
Poet / Reader (possibly Dan Page)
White water. Brings a chill to the tailpipe breeze Chilling light bittersweet gin bringing the mind to a sudden ease Wide water. Health flows along the fallen bangs Flowing light tails in the hair of the children of the sun who offer their thanks. Land seas existence is how I heart Swift summer Land seas existence is hard swift summer.
- [03:20]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
It's the golden season, that shining jewel that sits there in the calendar year and I'm trying to slow it all down slow down another swift summer before it slips from my hands and off into that autumn horizon. Slowing it down for me means finding an 86 year old woman on a shoreline in Wisconsin, fishing alone and asking if I can join her. Just to sit and fish and think and talk every now and again about whatever comes to mind. To forget about clocks and appointments and tomorrow and to know summer fully. So I'm with 86 year old Marge, who grew up in St. James, Minnesota, and moved to rural Wisconsin, where the countryside and the blue water call out to her every day of the week. You got something there. Look at that.
- [04:36]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
I fished all my life, Tom. My parents were fisher people. Both my parents in the jeans would go out in the boat at dawn and we would stay till dark. And my sister and I hated fishing, Just hated it because we had to sit there all day and fish. It was very tedious. I was so young. I couldn't really bring them in. I was too weak. We had to pee in the minnow pail. I can still remember. So I didn't fish then for quite a long time. And then I got into it when I got older. Oh, I got another little bite. Oh, I can see the fish. Yeah. Oh, he cleaned me, I think. But he's gonna go after it anyway.
- [05:28]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
He's just playing with you.
- [05:29]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
I know. I was fishing with friends when I lived east near Minocqua, and I caught a fish. I think it was a perch. And I was bringing it in and a muskie grabbed it. So now I have the bait, my fish, and the musky on this line. And the muskie would not let go. So I brought it in and I was so excited. I was so excited. Oh, man, that was fun. I let it go.
- [05:58]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
There's some people who live for musky fishing.
- [06:01]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Yeah, I know. That's a disease. I don't want it. My, those guys are hungry. Look at this,
- [06:10]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
look at that.
- [06:13]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
I love to be outside, Tom. I think I should live outside. I love to be outdoors. And it's a challenge. It's you against the fish. Sometimes I think they're down there laughing at me. The neat thing about fishing is you can go biking and then you're tired and you maybe went. Well, I used to go 20 miles, but now I go about six or seven. Then you're tired. So then you go and get your fishing pole out and you're sitting down and resting. You can't beat it. And then the challenge of the fish, are they gonna bite on my hook? I gotta job in Wausau, Wisconsin, teaching. So that's how I got to Wisconsin. And I love Wisconsin. More trees. We have a lot of trees in northern Minnesota, but southern Minnesota is all farmland. And I like the trees. So I stayed in Wisconsin and I've never been. Sorry. One time when I was fishing up north, there Was a bar there. So my girlfriend and I stopped for a soda and it was for sale. And I said to the bartender, why are you leaving here? Oh, he said, I'm so sick of trees. I want to be where there's concrete. I thought, that man is nuts. Oh man. Another time I was fishing and there was a guy fishing in a boat with his wife close by. And I said, how do you like it up here? And the man said, I love it. And the woman said, I hate it.
- [07:50]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
How many times out fishing do you see another woman fishing?
- [07:53]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Not too much.
- [07:55]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
That's what I find sort of intriguing. You don't see many women out fishing. You certainly don't see a lot of women fishing by themselves. And B, you don't see many 86 year old women out fishing.
- [08:07]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
That is true. I love it though. I love it. I'm going to fish till I kick off. That wasn't much of a cast.
- [08:15]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
How long have you had that pole?
- [08:17]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Over a hundred years. Very long time. It's old. When I was young, we fished with a cane pole. Did you ever do that? Yeah, I liked it.
- [08:25]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
I liked the simplicity of it.
- [08:27]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Me too.
- [08:28]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
The more simple it was, the better. My favorite kind of fishing was when it was just a rowboat. No motor, nothing to go wrong, nothing that could all of a sudden not work. Going and digging up worms, no running to any bait shop, grabbing my cane pole, no fancy reel, nothing to worry about breaking and just sitting out there. People have made it more complicated. And you see the fancy bass boats and you see the depth finders and the new fishing poles.
- [08:59]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
It's way too much. My oldest son is into all that stuff. Ah, I don't know that helps him any. I talk to the fish. I say, now this is going to hurt for a little while. If I'm really mad, then I say, go get your mom and come back.
- [09:19]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
That guy out on that boat right there. It would be so annoying to me to have that motor idling like that on a morning where he could be hearing the birds.
- [09:31]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Not as bad as the Jet skis. That's the worst Jet skis. You've seen those, haven't you?
- [09:36]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
I've not only seen those, I've shot at them in my dreams.
- [09:43]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
I wish they'd never been invented.
- [09:45]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Someone decided lakes needed motorcycles, apparently.
- [09:49]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Ah, they're a pain. They're a pain. It's so relaxing when you fish and you can think about things and, and you can rest and you see deer and you see eagles.
- [10:04]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
It's very meditative.
- [10:06]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
Yes. Yes, it is. Sometimes I'm crabby, and if I go fishing, you get rid of it real quick. I think he took my bait.
- [10:19]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
My wife's a therapist. I should tell her to pass that along to her clients. Try fishing. You'll feel better.
- [10:26]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
That's true.
- [10:26]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Might put her out of business, but
- [10:28]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
what a way to go.
- [10:31]
Poet / Reader (possibly Dan Page)
River. Winds like a crayon dream Sunlight through cottonwood trees, leaves they are colored yellow and green river of oo swirls and twirls the settled dust Like a sunset shining o' er the iron bridge the sky above colored orange and rose. Life is easy. Swift summer life is eas existence swift summer.
- [11:50]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
It's summertime and the lakes are speckled with boaters and swimmers, sending out that familiar summer din of distant engines, splashes, shouts, and laughter. Skin hidden. Eight months of the year now preens and parades, and the sun finds it, warms it, and darkens it. Evening sunsets are late and long outdoor fires and barbecues glow after dark. Children's voices are heard in the neighborhood at all hours, infused with a wild abandon, and every plant and every bird and every insect is alive and charged with a grand and mysterious energy. It's summertime and life is lush and layered, a mix of the frenetic and the languid. In my neighborhood, the old man across the street who I never see in the off season is at his trusty perch on his front stoop in those big khaki shorts with his shirt off, watering his tiger lilies with a bright green garden hose, keeping his slingshot nearby, the one he's had for years, the one he uses to keep the squirrels out of his bird feeders and that he fires at bicycle spokes from time to time when the neighbor kids come riding across his lawn. He doesn't realize the kids ride across his lawn because he has the slingshot, not in spite of it. It's all part of the thrill of summertime. I wish he'd do what the old guy adjacent to him does and spend a little more time with the kids, patiently showing them how to put baseball cards in their bike spokes. Kids don't do that anymore, but it's not because they don't like it. It's because few know about it. Baseball cards still make a bike seem a little more like a motorcycle. Hell, I still put them in my bike spokes. Few people watching me ride by think it's cool, but that's okay. I still think it's cool. We all do things a little differently in the summer. We're all trying to match the song of the season. Nature is singing a brand new tune in a brand new key, aiming for some new level of exaltation. We all get a little crazy trying to sing along. My next door neighbor buries plastic buckets in her backyard and fills them with water and goldfish, not for the beauty it provides, but to give the visiting raccoons at night the sensation of fishing in a pond. We're not out in the country, she says, but we ought to give the local creatures the sensation that we are. And the middle aged guy a block over, he goes a little crazy as well. He feels that the season is aiming for a kind of perfection in its presentation, and he seems to be compelled to reach for perfection himself. So he brings out the edger. Now, I've never understood this particular garden tool, the edger. It's designed to give you a perfectly straight, clean line between your lawn and the sidewalk. It takes away every little hanging blade of grass that might otherwise obstruct that perfectly clean, straight line, delineating what was made by God and what was made by man. This is profoundly important to Roger. He works hard all summer keeping that line well defined for no discernible reason other than that he too strives for a kind of perfection. My neighbor Alan also seeks perfection. He's brought out his 1953 Buick Skylark convertible with the waterfall grill. It wouldn't dare see sunlight in the off season. But this is summertime. The best of creation is on parade, and Alan wants to throw in his contribution. A classic car, perfect in every way. Not a blemish, not a scuff, not a square inch of dulling paint, not a tear in the upholstery, not a misfire in the engine. When Alan drives it, he tries to meld with the perfection of the season, to see if he can enter that state where he, too, is everything he's supposed to be. Do the people on the sidewalk notice that? Do they turn and stare and think to themselves, there's Alan, fully alive and where he's meant to be, behind the wheel of perfection, driving through the neighborhood on a perfect summer day, exalting, singing along to summer's grand song. They certainly stare with more envy than when I come riding by on my Schwinn. But Alan sticks to the street. I come down alleys, race across playgrounds, zip along the sidewalks, slip through backyards. I'm the rabbit, weaving through everything our neighborhood presents, stopping only for the arrival of the glorious ice cream man. The ice cream man, bringing his own sound of summer. A sound as iconic as the wafting play by play of any baseball game. Not everyone in the neighborhood is enamored with the repetitive kiddie music. The Willard cousins are older bachelors who live in their uncle's duplex. They're hard living men who after a few beers, have been known to call municipal authorities demanding ice cream trucks be restricted to commercial zones.
- [18:06]
Guest Speaker (Mel Sheehan)
You know, when that music starts building up, you know, it just starts to get a little closer and the music is louder and louder. I just get more and more tense. That ain't music. That's an assault. I hate fucking ice cream. Not very nice.
- [18:20]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
These gentlemen have gotten old. Not in actual age so much as in a certain weariness. And summer is about something quite the opposite. New life, spontaneity, fresh energy, and the spirit of creation. Rick Annenberg is a creative young man of 19 who has his own ice cream truck given to him by his father, a 1950s model that he rescued from a junkyard and restored. But Rick has a rare skin disorder called xeroderma pigmentosum. A person who is stricken with this is highly sensitive to sunlight, so much so they can never go outside during daylight hours. UV exposure is just plain deadly. So Rick drives his truck after dark, confusing newcomers to the area. More puzzling still to anyone who doesn't know Rick is the music his truck plays as he slowly moves through residential areas. I don't sell any ice cream. There's no one who comes near my truck. So I'm just down to bringing along a quart of vanilla in case someone surprises me. And I have plastic bowls and spoons and I'll give people a scoop if they ask, but no one ever does. I know the music is part of it, but I just knew driving at night was good Going to mean finding something different to play. I've had cops stop me. All I've ever gotten were warnings about the music. When I was a kid, I'd hear the ice cream truck from inside grandma's house. All the shades were down and the curtains were pulled. And I have a dream about an ice cream truck that ran at night. My name's Tim. I like summertime, but in the summertime I get hurt a lot. I lost a lot of teeth on a slip and slide last summer. Lot of teeth. It wasn't a kid's slip and slide. My brother made a homemade slip and slide. 300ft long dish soap, garden hose. Built on a hill, it ended right at a wall of a dental office. I went down that hill at what they call lawsuit speed. Several people described the sound coming out of my mouth as the kind of a sound no human should ever have to hear. No one ever found the teeth. Several thousand dollars worth of dental work later and a consultation with a guy who specializes in facial trauma. I called Brad, Shaw and Bryant. They didn't ask why a grown up man spends time on a slip and slide. They just got to work. Settlement covered the dental work and then some. Some bonus having to do with pain and suffering. I can't remember. Anyway, every summer it seems to be something. Learn more@minnesotapersonal injury.com
- [22:07]
Progressive Insurance Announcer
youm're listening to this podcast, so I know you've got a curious mind. Here's a helpful fact you might not know. Drivers who switch and save with Progressive save over $900 on average. Pop over to progressive.com, answer some questions and you'll get a quick quote with discounts that are easy to come by. In fact, 99% of their auto customers earn at least one discount. Visit progressive.com and see if you can enjoy a little cash back Progressive Casualty Insurance Company and affiliates national average 12 month savings of $946 by new customers surveyed who saved with Progressive between June 2024 and May 2025. Potential savings will vary
- [22:47]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
There's a kind of light that only shows up in the summertime early evening, low in the sky, gold enough to make even an ordinary backyard look like something out of a memory. At the Wellshire Memory Care center, the light falls on a garden. It falls on the flowers that someone's always tending. It falls on a balcony where the breeze moves through the hair of the old woman staring into the sunlight. She's got nowhere else to be, but she's content. She can't remember her son's name, but she remembers the porch swing at the farmhouse. When she was growing up, the sun looked a lot like it looks right now. The Wellshire Memory Care center isn't like other places because they're not trying to be other places. Memory care isn't the one thing they do. It's the only thing. Every barber there, every gardener, every familiar face down in the town square area where the salon sits and the cinema and library can be found. Every familiar face of the staff is the face of someone who's trained to work with people who have dementia or Alzheimer's. The Wellshire Memory Care Center Medina and Bloomington. Henry James said, summer afternoon. To me, those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language. Summer afternoon. Wallace Stevens said, the summer night is like a perfection of thought. And Charles Bowden said, summertime is always the best of what might be. But my favorite summer quote is from writer Jenna Sowers, who said there's something kind of special spiritual about skinny dipping. Skinny dipping is that rare transgression against everyday mores that is too small to cause anyone real harm and yet big enough to remind you you're alive. Skinny dipping at night is the ultimate statement that the weather is finally warm. The water is no longer ice, it's liquid, and it's not cold. It's warm at the end of a summer day. And the lack of clothes says they're not needed. Summer has provided the freedom to be without them. So, in essence, you're saying I'm as far from a January night as I can be. And that's how you celebrate summer, by being in it fully. Now, I'm not going to lie to you and say I haven't seen drunken skinny dippers in my town at a city lake after dark, and I have stolen their clothing. I didn't want to do it. I kind of owed it to them. I think they needed to know more than just the freedom of water without clothing. I think they needed to feel the freedom of getting home without clothing. And yes, I saw they were on bicycles, so there was no escape to be found in a car somewhere. Sure, I saw that. But I wanted them to know bicycling in the summer without clothes to know that freedom. And I guess ultimately I wanted them to know what it was like to stand before a police officer without clothes. Also a kind of spiritual experience, in a way. And they didn't have to thank me, no, sir. The fun I had selling their clothes on consignment at a thrift store was plenty. Thanks enough. Plenty thanks enough. Now, mel Sheehan is 67 years old and a friend of mine. He's a big proponent of skinny dipping, enjoying the practice as often as he can in the summertime. I met him about three years ago at a coffee shop. He was writing in his journal, which he does daily, and I wanted to have him on this show so that he could talk about his passion for swimming in the nude.
- [26:59]
Guest Speaker (Mel Sheehan)
I like to go skinny dipping, and I do it often in the summertime, usually in the city lakes. Here I go very, very late at night so no one's around at all. And I can pick the spot that's secluded enough. Most of the time, if I can't find any real privacy, I sometimes don't swim. But as I said, if I go very Late at night, I can pretty much count on being alone. And I don't like the swimsuit. I don't like them. They're restricting. And I just like to feel like a fish when I'm in the water. Like we all once felt eons ago, before we all evolved from the swamp, see? Do you know the whale is one of the very, very few creatures to have evolved to where it could completely leave the water behind and live on the land. But then, apparently, he had some strange kind of change of heart and evolved back to where it became full time in the water again. See, I completely understand that. See, that he had it made and he didn't know it. Had to learn that one the hard way. When I'm in the water naked, I'm free In the darkness there. I'm fully alive and I'm at home. I think I'm part fish, you know. My mother thought she was part fish. She told me so years ago. And my Aunt Carol, she thinks she's part fish, too. We're older folks, yes, but our love for the water against our bare skin never wanes. You know, I think the older you get, the more you don't care what people think. In fact, one night here in Minneapolis, I was for a swim after. Well after two in the morning at Lake New Comis and ran into another older woman who was skinny dipping, too. I was a little embarrassed about it at first, and I said, ma', am, I won't look your way. And if you don't look my way, we both can enjoy the swim tonight together, okay? Well, she said to me, she said, I've been a nurse most of my life, mister, and there's nothing you got that I ain't seen a thousand times before. Now, I didn't want to make it seem like this was all new to me either. So I says to her, I said, well, I've perused a share of them girly magazines, and there ain't nothing you got that I haven't seen plenty of times. She laughed. I remember she said, what you're seeing in those magazines is a far cry from what I'm offering, I'll tell you that. I didn't know what to make of the statement at first. What was I dealing with here? Hermaphrodite or something? I did end up looking over at her because of my curiosity, of course. And I want to tell you something. In that soft light, that glow from distant street lamps combined with the three quarter moon, I thought she looked sorta pretty. And I said to Her. I said, you can look this way if you want, seeing as you're a nurse and all and you've seen all of those things, and I'll stop being shy. She looked over at me and she stared for a bit and said, from what I'm seeing, you don't have anything to be shy about. That felt kind of good, you know. I said to her, my name's Henry. And she told me her name was Marie. And I said, you want to swim with me out to that buoy marker? Right out there and back? And she did not hesitate. She said, yes, I do. I can't read minds. But I got the feeling that she thought it might be even a little safer swimming there as a pair as opposed to all alone. She seemed to get real comfortable with me pretty quickly as a fellow lover of the nighttime water on your bare skin. So we swam out to that distant buoy marker, and then we swam all the way back to shore near where our clothes were piled up. It was one of those warm, muggy Minnesota nights. No coolness to the air. And when you left the water, there was no chill that a towel was gonna take away. And because we'd already declared that seeing each other in the buff was nothing to get frazzled about, we both just seemed to be okay climbing out of that lake and see, sitting on the top of our towels. It just felt right sitting there all naked, like the day we came into the world. There's something about sitting bare naked next to a person who's also bare naked that, well, keeps you honest.
- [32:00]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
At this point, I asked Mel to pull out his journal from that week and read what he had written about his time with Marie. He was reluctant at first, but after some persuading, he did indeed find that passage, and he read it to me.
- [32:22]
Guest Speaker (Mel Sheehan)
So we got to talking, and we found out that we agreed on a lot of things. Love for Skinny Dippin was just a start. We both shared with each other that strange sensation older folks have of life having just gone by us in the blink of an eye. And that strange kind of wondering of where all those years went and what it was all about, really. And then how the time that we have left, it's so brief. And the only things we're really interested in now are the real simple things, like things that always been available to us. Sitting quietly in the natural world and taking it all in with all the senses. Feeling life wash over us and knowing the experience fully, letting it wash over us like lake water. Letting the feeling of seeing kids playing in the neighborhood wash over us. And friends that you know and you love when they're in your presence. Just letting that wash over you. Not working so hard to think of what to say or what to do. Just being with them and feeling what you feel for them. And letting the time with them just come like soft waves into your heart. We shared together that same feeling of how life always seems to so sort of come at you like waves. And when we were young, it seemed to come like the ocean waves. Often it was a little much. Jobs and careers and kids. Ocean waves, they can be exciting, but they can knock you around a bit too, you know? We talked about how now, in our later years, we want life to come at us like those soothing lake waves that are so very, very different. The ocean big and wild. Then you stand on the shore of a lake. The gentle way that water moves. We both said we wanted a life of lake waves now. Softer and sweeter. Gentler life, I guess still, though, a life washing over us fully and completely. Like when we were swimming at night in that lake. Well, I guess it was something about that kind of talk and that kind of got to me. And at one point I just quietly leaned over and I kissed her ever so lightly on the cheek. Now, she didn't pull away, but I also noted that she didn't reciprocate. I guess I really didn't need her to. That wasn't what it was all about, but I was glad I did it because it said something that I wanted. Said something that made note of this whole evening together. That was sort of the point that drew the night to a close. And she stood up first to put her clothes on and then I followed. I wanted to ask to see her again, but something told me to just let it go. Just let it go and let the evening be what it was. And she smiled and she said goodbye to me. Her eyes were warm and sort of teary. She told me that she was glad that she didn't find the privacy that she come looking for that night. And then I watched her walk away up the hill to the car. Just a fading silhouette amidst the lush hanging branches of the linden trees. I swam all alone the rest of that summer. And the best nights were when I would let that memory of her wash over me so gently. Like all that lovely lake water gliding around my bare skin.
- [37:11]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
That's a dead mosquito crushed by a giant creature. Some monster that must look to it like a B movie matinee fruit freak come to life. That would be me. It was Mercifully quick, this death. I hope the mosquito community takes solace in that. But it's still cause for mourning in their world. And they don't just sing. Another one bites the dust, these mosquitoes. This is no small thing. In fact, mosquitoes have generally adopted the Lakota warriors song of mourning, has their preferred hymn for honoring their dead. It's barely audible to the human ear, of course, but I believe it's been recorded in the laboratory. I don't know. We've all killed mosquitoes, of course. All of us. We've all attacked them violently and mercilessly. And we all have to live with that fact, all of us. Of course, it's war here in Minnesota. That makes it a little different. And we respect our enemy, Their ability in a dark room at night to torment us, knowing we're at a disadvantage, unable to see them and seemingly a little off all the time on where they are based on the sound they're producing. Maddening little things. They know where our ears are, and they go there. Purposely, of course, like some native American counting coup. Bravely getting near enough to the enemy to die and. And then moving away. Tormenting with bravery. Mosquitoes have been around for a very, very, very long time. And yet no one I know has ever sent members of a war council on some diplomatic mission to try and talk to them, to try and understand them a little more. We attack each other year after year with no dialogue. Have we not learned that this will never bring the peace we're all hoping for in this world, but instead will just bring a senseless cycle of car. Would it hurt to at least sit down across from one another one time and begin to talk? Well, that is exactly what happens after this final break of the show. I've lived through 108 summers. I've kept track. The first one, no one had air conditioning. Air conditioning hadn't found us yet. We just sweated and called it life. Somewhere in the 50s, someone around here finally did something about it. After that, we stayed cool in the summer until something went wrong. And then we'd call Minneapolis St. Paul Plumbing, Heating Air and Electric. 1918, they started. They've been showing up ever since. Not just for the big stuff, the furnace dying in February, but there for July as well, when the air conditioner was wheezing or when the outlet was sparking every time you plugged in the fan. You call MSP in the month of June now, and you get 50 bucks off your next repair. You gonna call them this month, or are you gonna wait and Lose out on that 50 bucks. I'll be watching.
- [40:45]
Twin City Sabers Auction Announcer
Wait, did you just pay full price? Don't be that person. Be the smart one at the Twin City Sabers summer online auction.
- [40:53]
Progressive Insurance Announcer
Score.
- [40:54]
Twin City Sabers Auction Announcer
Jaw dropping deals. Save up to 70% off retail. We're talking tens of thousands of dollars dollars in goodies just waiting for you. Dream big. How about a seven day deluxe Niagara Falls in Toronto getaway from heart of the north tours? Boom. Bucket list done. Or maybe you're more cannonball into summer with Metropolis resort stays and water park passes. Or I'm fancy now with a stay at the InterContinental Minneapolis St. Paul Airport Hotel. Or I want my garage floor to look amazing with a new one from garage floor Geeks. Or I want to go fishing in Canada at Fletcher Lake Lodge. Yeah, we got all that and more. Just head to garagelogic.com, enter keyword auction and start browsing. Bidding and winning. Bidding is happening now through Thursday, June 25, so don't miss your shot. The Twin City Savers summer online auction. Because paying full price is just embarrassing.
- [41:55]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
My name is Mishke. I was sent by the Governor. This here is our flag of truce. Here is a temporary treaty ensuring that there will be no attacks by any of us during these ongoing dialogues. I have passed along to your subordinates in writing our desire to find a peaceful solution to the ongoing troubles between our species. And the Governor has asked me, now that you know where we stand, to listen to your side. And that's exactly what I'm here to do. We're tired of being bitten. We're tired of hearing your war cry. We're tired of sleepless nights and uncomfortable picnics. And you gotta be tired of getting slaughtered by the millions. Come on. It's genocide out there. Let's end this nonsense now. I wanna go camping with my boy this weekend.
- [42:46]
Garagelogic Advertising Executive (Mark Ellis)
You humans frustrate us with your ignorance. There are 3,500 tribes in the mosquito world. Did you even know that we here cannot possibly speak for all of them. Also you stand here before us having hunted for food or sport. Virtually every creature the earth has ever produced actually killed them. Here in Minnesota, we take your blood only you go walking, on talking, on experiencing your life. We are taking the minimum we need.
- [43:20]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
No.
- [43:21]
Garagelogic Advertising Executive (Mark Ellis)
Hold on. A blood draw. Your body's easily tolerated. Hardly notice it.
- [43:26]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Now wait a minute.
- [43:27]
Garagelogic Advertising Executive (Mark Ellis)
Take creatures completely out of existence. Now just don't interrupt me. I did not interrupt you. You stand here feeling entitled to a pain free life, having inflicted more pain than anything else considered sentient. It would be laughable if it weren't so pathetic. And I can't quite express to you the delight I am experiencing calling you pathetic to your face, knowing you cannot swat me due to our agreement with your governor.
- [44:04]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Well, now, I don't know that that was called for. I came here in good faith, but you clearly have no intention of participating in a civilized dialogue. I'll saddle up my horse and leave you to your own kind. Let's head out, boys. We're obviously not welcome here. Up at the lake I used to work with Don Vogel, a blind talk radio host originally out of Chicago. When he arrived in Minnesota, he said to me one day, what's all this talk of going up to the lake? It's always up. First of all, there are no lakes at all south of the Twin Cities. Is that the deal? Or even on a similar latitude. And secondly, what's with the lake? Is there only the one? I heard you guys had 10,000 of them. How can anyone ever get away with just saying the lake? I don't know, I said to Don. Names are funny things. My dad moved a military Quonset hut up to a piece of property in Wisconsin in the early 60s, and somehow each summer got away with saying we were headed up to the cottage. The cottage, he called it, but it was a barracks. Eight of us kids sleeping in one room. Cottage sure sounds nice, though. And so does the lake. And let me tell you something. The greatest one two punch invention of all time, if you ask me, was the agreement some people made to free kids from the confines of school come June and to create the concept of the lake. What a wild and divine idea. School ending for three months and a world opening up in the country on a body of water that for a child could only be described as a sort of earthly heaven, created, it seemed, solely to give kids the experience of the idyllic. Everything I ever dreamed of or wanted in life as a kid existed up at the lake.
- [46:44]
Guest Speaker (Mel Sheehan)
Everything.
- [46:46]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
And when that Shangri La would be shut down come autumn, when we would pull away in the station wagon at the end of Labor Day weekend, leaving it all behind for nine months, I had to hide my tears from my family. It was all just too much. The city was waiting with its unforgiving concrete and its rigid rules, and school too, with its parochial uniform and its button down, settle down, piped down edicts, it was all anathema to me. Summer had meant the life of Tom and Huck. Tom and Huck, the greatest example of how to live a childhood ever devised. There was no Christmas morning that could ever match a summer at the lake. And there was no summer at the lake as an adult that could ever match that same experience as a child. But like summer itself, those days must leave us. We are endlessly being teased with wonder in this world and then having it pulled from our grip. So be it. John Steinbeck said, what good is the warmth of summer without the cold of winter to give it its sweetness? Precious summertime here and then gone Live it, live it, live it, live it and then leave it because you have to and that's what makes it sweet Sweet Swift summer.
- [48:45]
Poet / Reader (possibly Dan Page)
Throwing off the lowly shore Drowning like my friends Forgotten sorrows that occupied the bottles before Empty bottles Buried in the bars of golden sand Buried like another August to remember I won't let go till it's out of my hand. Life. Swift summer Lazy's existence High heart Swift
- [49:47]
86-year-old Fisherwoman (Marge)
summer
- [49:50]
Poet / Reader (possibly Dan Page)
Lapis east Dance hard Swift summerin Life sees existence upon the heart. Swift summer
- [50:15]
Narrator / Host (possibly Tom)
Swift summer Courtesy of the brilliant Dan Page of Billings, Montana.