I went to the dentist today, the first day (I think) that Park Dental has been open at its Downtown Duluth location in the Medical Arts Building. There is a Park Dental location near my workplace, but I have an affection for running errands downtown, normally.
In 2019 I celebrated the first day of summer with my grandchildren on a day trip to Two Harbors. This summer COVID-19 could put a damper on our adventures, but we can still day trip down memory lane.
I was raised by immigrants from a big Turkish-Armenian family. It’s an old family, sprawling across Istanbul, across Turkey, across the globe. If I mention reading a study from New Zealand or Brazil or Lithuania or Poland or wherever, the response is inevitably, “Oh, we have cousins there!”
It takes a village to raise a child, and while most of our village was overseas I still felt their presence. I was singularly blessed to have a veritable metropolis of strong role models supporting me. Despite having been born and raised in America, my roots grew too deep in foreign soil to be pulled free.
Now I have a daughter of my own. A wide-eyed, strawberry-haired little gummy bear. She already loves dolma and a lengthy duduk solo. She is being raised not just by her Mama and Papa, but by a rambling expanse of extended family. In raising her, I have a new appreciation for the love and devotion of my grandmother, my aunt, and my mother.
Top 20 list of my Lake Superior Aquaman videos, with commentary, from a billion years of posting at Perfect Duluth Day:
#1.) Official video for the Low song “Gentle.” 2015. My one paying video gig and crowning achievement. Low saw Lake Superior Aquaman footage I posted here and requested I fit it to this song. The imagery is of the collapsed column of Uncle Harvey’s Mausoleum/The Icehouse in Duluth’s outer harbor off the Lakewalk.
The Comedy Central sitcom Workaholics, which ran from 2011-’17, featured two references to Duluth.
This gorgeous piece of high fashion has a copyright date of 1988 and a set of initials that must be in reference to the artist, “A.V. – A.W.” The design is likely based on a photo from the 1970s, because the Northern Drug Company building is included in the art, and that building was torn down in 1977.
Anyway, if you think the front of this sweatshirt is smoking hot, wait for it …
Local poet Jayson Iwen is reading his award-winning poetry live online, in lieu of visiting bookshops around the country.
Netflix has released a trailer for the new show based on Duluthian Chris Monroe’s Chico Bon Bon series of books.
Reconstructed by the Richardson Bros. from records at the St. Louis County Historical Society
Full text below.
[Editor’s note: For this week’s essay we’ve once again pulled out a relic from the archive of Slim Goodbuzz, who served as Duluth’s “booze connoisseur” from 1999 to 2009. Twenty years ago the 3rd Rock Bar at 1201 Tower Ave. held weekly wet T-shirt contests. The Sultan of Sot was there to document the action for an article that appeared in the April 19, 2000 issue of the Ripsaw newspaper.]
The 3rd Rock Bar is Superior’s newest nightclub. It is a hard-rock venue, similar to the old Pacific Club, where Metallica cover bands and easily deceived women gather to negotiate unwanted pregnancies. Connected to 3rd Rock is the Bourbon Street Blues Saloon, which was completely patronless when I peeked in the window.
Every Wednesday night, 3rd Rock hosts a wet T-shirt contest. This is an excellent marketing choice because the type of person who really enjoys a wet T-shirt contest is also the kind of person who really enjoys doing the same thing every Wednesday night.
I’ve always thought the old Central School downtown would be an awesome indoor market. Similar to the World Market in Minneapolis, people could have small stands showcasing food/crafts/services. It’d be a great spot for diverse emerging entrepreneurs. Think of it like a year-round farmers market in a city that experiences eight months of winter. I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy. Let me know what you think. Viva la Duluth
I’ve been trying to write this fucking essay for three weeks, but my brain won’t stay allegiant to my body. I feel like the inside of my head is a giant scribble, like Charles Schultz’ confusion thought bubbles or Rowling’s Obscuris.
I keep rolling the word around in my head, like that will somehow make it dissolve: pandemic. We’re in the midst of a pandemic. We’re having a pandemic.
The problem, I think, is that I have no frame of reference. It’s like trying to imagine a new color. And sitting down to write, the world is so loud that it’s hard to hear my own thoughts. I feel this ball of energy gathering — this terrible welling of grief and fear, tragedy and panic. I know this is crazy, or fantastically pessimistic, but it feels like we’ve been careening toward this for years. Maybe it’s an artifact of all of the government preparation for the inevitable disaster we received. As a Generation X kid, I spent so much time preparing myself for Soviet invasion or nuclear war that it’s bound to have permeated my subconscious in some insidious way.
“The Haunted Groom” is a supernatural adventure story set largely in the Duluth bar scene. It explores PTSD, addiction, abusive relationships, and the coronavirus lockdown. Full story below.
Part 1: I Married a Ghost. Part 2: Trapdoor to Hell. Part 3: The Demonizer.
A tan, 120-pound mastiff growled through the crack in the door, barely held back by a 12-year old boy. I was knocking at the door of this rural home to let the residents know I’d be working in the stream nearby. Even if the stream bed is technically public, nobody likes being surprised by a stranger in their backyard. As a 27-year-old female graduate student, I didn’t feel very intimidating, but the13-year-old boy was creeped out by me knocking. I told him I’d be taking some measurements in the stream and handed him a flyer about my research to give his parents. He said OK and slunked behind the door, but not before first letting his huge growling dog squeeze outside. As I turned to go, the mastiff immediately lunged and chomped down on the flesh of my ass. I yelped in pain and I looked back at the silent closed front door for help. But the boy was gone, and the dog seemed satisfied with his bite and also retreated, still growling. I walked quickly back to the car on the road where my field assistant was waiting, my heart pounding wildly.
By that time in my life, I was a full-fledged dog lover with two dogs of my own, Rooster and Arlo. I had adopted Rooster from a shelter, and he was the absolute best dog ever. Perhaps you’ve heard this before, but listen, this is the real thing.
Typically Perfect Duluth Day’s monthly pitch for donations brags about how many events we publish on the PDD Calendar and notes all the labor required to do it. In the past three weeks, however, most of that work has shifted to marking events “cancelled” or “postponed.” We are still publishing new events, but most of them are either “virtual” events happening online, or concerts and neighborhood celebrations planned several months into the future. So our mission continues, but it’s a much lamer mission, at least for the short term.
Why do we need your help now more than ever? Because when life gets cancelled the advertising revenue that keeps Perfect Duluth Day in business slowly disappears. Nearly every enterprise in town is struggling in these challenging times.
