Spring fling and beyond

Word has it…spring is all around.  Except for an occasional outing and windows and doors opening, I’ve been going nose first into my computer, working to put the final stages on Pins & Needles and my essay about Mary MacNicholl, the first ordained woman in the Methodist church in Minnesota.

Some of you may remember that I thought my novel about Maude Porter, Clearwater’s pioneer who lived to be 103, would have been published last year.  Unfortunately, no.  I have a contract now with a new publisher. I am happy to have had extra time to rewrite and make the book better.  So the book launch will be late summer or early fall.

Also, Mary MacNicholl’s paper came to a stop when I received the contract for Pins & Needles. I am back working on the last section of this project while I wait for one more edit of the novel.

Winter was a rough one for all of us who aren’t really impressed with white stuff, especially the last few months.  I postponed a couple speaking events because they fell at the same time as the blizzards.  Fortunately, I was able to talk about everything Clearwater, Minnesota, at a wonderful book club in Vadnais Heights this past week without any weather-related issues.

Now, I am preparing for Image may contain: textClearwater’s Spring and Summer Craft and Vendor event May 19, 2018 from 10-3.  The last time my sister Becky Frank and I did this, we brought all my books and our Jennie’s Corner Pure & Simple Products–soaps, lotions, postcards, magnets–and oh, so much more.  We had a wonderful time and are preparing for another great time.  Contact me here or on my Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/CynthiaFrankStupnikauthor/

if you have a special request.

Lots going on.  Another Clearwater talk was postponed in March because of a nasty little ice and snow storm at the Big Lake Great River Library.  I’ll be bringing everything Clearwater to talk about the village’s history and the Main Street Women’s series Monday,  June 4, 2018, at 5:30.

Lots more to be announced later.  Just an FYI:  I will be part of the Clearwater Heritage Days this year again–down at the river as part of the Rendezvous and up at the library where I will  talk about “HERITAGE” and everything Clearwater.  Looking forward to the first weekend in August.

I am promising myself I’ll get out and about very soon.  Right now, birds are singing, the sun is shining, and the skies are blue.  I am content.  Hope to see you all soon.


Spring forward–

GREAT RIVER speaking event in Big Lake is cancelled due to our snow storm.  I’ll keep you updated when we decide to reschedule.


One of the television channels announced what we are to expect to happen in the next five-six weeks–St. Patrick’s Day, Easter,  income tax day–and  in less than three weeks we turn the clocks ahead.  When I taught, I hated the time shift.   I liked longer daylight, but my mind was muddled for a few weeks until sleep habits shifted. Now, I sleep in!

This year, I am springing forward in different ways–some health, some writing and researching, some presenting my hometown, Clearwater, Minnesota,  topics.  I am looking forward to a few of special dates already on my calendar.

I am finishing up a paper about the first woman who was an ordained Methodist minister in Minnesota, Rev. Mary MacNicholl.  I thought this would be a small research and writing project.  This essay has been so full of surprises and learning opportunities for me.  It is 3/4 completed and  25, documented, pages so far.  The people I have met  that have helped with this project have been amazing. I can’t help think about Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go:

Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places! (and meeting Great People)
You’re off and away!

You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy (GAL) who’ll decide where to go.

Frank and I decided we would take a winter trip.  We drove to Florida.  A decision we have re-thought for future use.  We will fly from now on, especially if the trip is going to take us four days of driving.  We don’t race on trips anymore.  Our bodies can’t handle being cramped in a car.  So we stopped along the way for bathroom breaks, food and fuel fill ups, and good nights’ stays.  Once we reached our destination south of Venice, Florida, we had wonderful pre-spring vacation on the Gulf side, and the Atlantic side in Florida and Georgia.  My goodness, the capris and short sleeve shirts were so comfortable, yet now, a distant but happy reminder of what will come soon.  The “Blue Moon,” was bright and beautiful off the Atlantic Coast at Jekyll Island, Georgia.

We had to spring back, though,  to reality when we returned from sublime to Super Bowl Sunday and drove through snow storms from Illinois to Wisconsin.

I am deciding and re-deciding what I am doing and where I am going with my writing. I am  re-editing Pins & Needles.   I’d hoped that would be ready for publication long before now–that has been a story unto itself.

AND, I’ve already scheduled a few events to present historical Clearwater, Minnesota, my historic and fictional study of some of the impressionable women in the community.  My first is next Monday in Big Lake, Minnesota at the public library– https://griver.org/locations/big-lake.  I start speaking at 5:30.

I’ll keep you up-to-date on where you can find me as I spring forward.


GREAT RIVER speaking event in Big Lake is cancelled due to our snow storm.  I’ll keep you updated when we decide to reschedule.




Follow these easy steps . . (or how I made it through Christmas)

One new tree we up this year. We call him Whimsy.

Step 1: Putting up the tree. I am never prepared for Christmas. I don’t sit on the edge of my seat waiting for the holiday to arrive. October–early November…I think ugh! Christmas– the work, the presents to buy, and more so, the stress about the clean up. Then around Thanksgiving, I get into the mood. Somewhere around that time, when I have the time, I start decorating. I can’t stop. I’m like a mad-woman. Oh, I love this ornament, decoration, or whatever. I hang junk all around. AND because our anniversary is a week before Christmas, we buy at least one new ornament each year. In addition, we have ornaments from places we have travelled. As I open each little box to hang my special decoration, I remember that special place or that moment. I still have my children’s special Sunday School or elementary school ornament they so proudly gifted me. They may be near shreds, but if they haven’t fallen apart, they are hung somewhere–often in the back but they are there. Maude Porter also has special ornaments that she puts on her tree in 1909, the year/the setting of my future suspense novel, Needles & Pins. “‘Tis the season!”

Step 2: I love living it too. Twinkle, Twinkle, little stars. I turn off all the overhead lights and lamps and stare into the trees. Yes, trees. Like many others, I have more than one. I’ve made many upcoming and life-changing year’s decisions staring into my tree. I even decided to retire after staring into a tree. They really give me such peace. I play Christmas music, go to special events, make apple cider and cookies, and live it up. I have in the past made a “happy cake”–okay, the secret is out bosses alike–as fellow teachers called it. This tasty and extra moist fruit cake was so happy, it smelled like a Kentucky distillery. It got my fellow teachers through the grading part of the semester and me through many long days correcting essays before I, too, could have some time off to enjoy myself. Jennie Phillips shares her mother’s favorite cake recipe in Needles & Pins that she serves in her story Scruples & Drams. Looking forward to sharing the recipe with you too very soon! “Happy Holidays!”

Jennie Phillips about the time she became a pharmacist. Find out more about Jennie in my suspense novel, Scruples & Drams.

Step 3: I hate starting but the pulling down goes faster than the putting up. I hold each little treasure delicately and try to remember which special box it goes in. Today, I dropped and broke one that we bought in Slovenia….a little hand-painted egg. So sad. The rest get packed away for another year. The trees are still standing and lit. That’s the husband’s job. So I put away my village. This too is a treasure and looks like Concord and Lexington, Mass., an area that I love to go to…charming. The New England resembling Main Street, in All Around Clearwater still holds its charms. I can almost “hear those Sleigh Bells ringing . . .”

Step 4: Once everything is boxed up, it is time to clean up. I don’t mind this part because my house is nearly back to order or as much order as I usually live with. The vacuum comes out, the feather dusters start swirling, and Old English gold makes everything new looking. I make a New Year’s resolution to keep it this way and sing “Should all acquaintance be forgot”….hoping to see friends more often than having to clean my house.

Maude Porter makes new decisions as well in Needles & Pins.

Step 5: Carrying on…This is where I am now. It is winter with nice days and cold days. I have a few projects that I have to finish–all as tedious as the sand that comes in the house every time we come in from outdoors. My work has to get done but the boredom of cleaning makes me as lack-luster as cake without frosting. Not even cranking up the Oldies helps me kick it in the keister. I miss my twinkling lights…..

Then on the horizon–someone–a cousin… encourages my husband and I to come to the beach for a few days. My how the work gets done better and faster! We look forward to beating the cold for a few days. Beach sand is so much more friendly than snowy dirt. I am ready and raring. Maude makes a big move as well in Needles & Pins.

I make more promises: when I return to our frozen lot, I’ll get right back to life with more of a hop and twist in my life. Plus:
all of my Clearwater books can be yours for $10 (plus tax—sorry) for you book club. If you are in the area, I’ll even bring them to you, and I’ll come back to talk to you when you meet. I bring slides, pictures, era pieces etc. I have fun doing this….So send me an email and we can meet up books@cynthiafrankstupnik.com

I’ll be seeing you…in all the old familiar places…..in that small café….the park across the way…the children’s carousel…the chestnut trees, the wishing well.

Have a healthy and happy 2018!

Over the river and through the woods . . .

It is hard to believe that the song/poem was written in 1844 by an excited young New England boy who couldn’t wait to get to Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving dinner.    It was a tradition.

I remember that excitement too, when as a child, my folks and siblings drove through snow, over roads and bridges, crossed Highway 10, and down a couple long dirt roads before pulling into Grandma’s and Grandpa’s house. Cousins from Waite Park and Iowa as well as aunts and uncles traveled their distances too to share this holiday with loved ones. Along with a huge dish that was replenished often before the actual feast began, we gathered around the fold away tables and talked, laughed, and giggled.  It was our tradition.

Join vendors, crafts people, and artists at the Long Prairie Arts and Crafts Show and Tell tomorrow from 9-4.  I’ll be selling and signing my books, and we will be selling Jennie’s Clearwater Apothecary Pure & Simple products–creams, lotions, soaps, and balms!  If you haven’t done so already, make it a tradition!  

“William Tell reputedly shoots apple off his son’s head”

November 18, 1307, is  a famous date for history lovers…This day in history it is alleged that the Swiss-born William Tell  shot the apple off his son’s head.   In a nutshell, apparently Bill refused to bow before the hat of a Habsburg ruler and was ordered to be killed unless he shot an apple off his son’s head.  An expert bows man, he did that and more–he split the apple in half, thus saving his life and his son’s.  Unfortunately, Tell was a rebel and big talker and swore that if he’d have killed his son, he would have turned the bow on the ruler.  After being taken prisoner, he escaped chains, killed a ruler, and eventually led a revolt against the Habsburg governance.

So what is this history lesson all about?  Lots of events linked to November 18–and one is in Clearwater, Minnesota, this Saturday at the Lions’ Bldg in Lions’ Park on Highway 75.   The 2nd annual arts and crafts sale will be held at 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.  There will be crafts, wood products, and direct sales items, arts and décor, and ME and my sister! Totally bad English-speak for a retired English teacher.  We will be there though–I’ll be selling Clearwater books, signing as well, and sis will be selling Jennie Phillips’ Pure & Simple products–lotions, creams, balms, soaps, and a host of Clearwater memorabilia. 

Check out the site–you may have to copy and past in the URL.


The following Saturday, two days after Thanksgiving, Sis nd I, along with a friend,  will be in Long Prairie, MN, for another a/c even


I’ve heard that this is also a fun and large event to attend.  I’m not sure if there will be any competition you can join in on with crossbows and apples, but you may hit the bull’s eye and bring home bargains galore and as you take  shot at your Christmas shopping list.

Hope to see you at either or both events.

“I Am Woman”

The other night I saw a recent, 2017 film about Helen Reddy. I remember her standing thin and tall singing, I am woman . . .hear me roar . . .I am invincible . . .I am strong!”  I was so surprised, though, to see how she had changed because I’d never kept up with her success. She is nine years older than I am. What did I expect?  I haven’t been thin for 35 years.  If I hadn’t been coloring my hair, it would be gray like hers.  She is probably still tall–I haven’t a clue–but she has “grown,” as the song goes, in a number of ways.   She states she is happy with how she has turned out, feeling as though she has turned into the woman she sang about in the 60/70’s.  “I am woman,” which she wrote, became a mantra for the women’s movement. 

She is still active in women’s empowerment, attending, singing, supporting, and speaking at conventions, conferences, and marches around the world.

Most of us have had an opportunity to see on television how some women are coming forward, finally, to indict those who have hurt them. It’s amazing what women can do when they stand together.  There’s power in numbers.  And, yes, it is time to whip the bullies, the woman bashers, the sexual perverts–anyone who hurts others.

Scruples & Drams and my upcoming novel, a sequel to Jennie’s story, Needles & Pins, Maude’s story, promotes strong women. These women stand up for other women who are caught in trouble–trouble they can’t handle by themselves.

This weekend, Sat.,November 4, I’ll be selling Scruples & Drams, Around Clearwater, and Postcards from the Old Man at the Monticello Women of Today Fall Craft show in the Monticello Community Center from 9-3.  The address is 505 Walnut St # 4, Monticello, MN 55362. 

My sister, her friend Pam, and I will be setting up Clearwater Apothecary with all sort of products Jennie Phillips would have made or sold in her shop–such as her famous Pure & Natural, wild rose facial cream, dry hand rub, skin lotions, soaps, cards, bags, and crocheted hats, gloves, and scarves.  


Come out and support the Women of Today!


Thirty days hath September. . .

August was so nice and fall-like; I wasn’t surprised when September brought a heat wave, and it did last weekend.  I don’t like pushing the seasons, but last weekend was pretty nasty as I sat out in the elements–wind, humidity, and sun.  I can’t believe that I hardly burned all summer even on my son’s pontoon. Then my last book event in September gave me a whipper-snapper of a blaze on my neck and arms as I sat greeting, meeting, and selling books at Millstream in St. Joe.  I heard my grandchildren came in from outdoors and  asked their dad when fall was coming.  They like the rest of us who live in the Midwest expect our changing seasons.

Now, we have it–for now–cooler temps and rain.  Yet, it is strange not to have more colorful trees.  Not all maples have turned yet. Even though the woodlands aren’t at peak, they give a tinge of what is to come–crunching leaves, cooler temps, cuddly sweaters, meatloaf and baked potatoes (in the oven as I write), apple pie, and …sorry–ice roads.  But wait–we have time before I have to put away capris and my good friend Carol has to put her sandals to bed and hide her beautiful toenails in real shoes.

In the meantime, I have a number of events to announce:

This next weekend, Oct. 6-7, I will be in Mankato for the Deep Valley Book Festival.  Friday night I will be hobnobbing, or as my friend says “hobsnobbing,” with other authors at their Authors and Appetizers Gala event.  Now what to wear with a ugly beige boot that protects my weak ankle?  I still want to keep that, “I’m just Cindy look,”  pretend I am not that blind, deaf, gimpy girl, someone I know and love calls me, and still put on an air of dignity.  The next day, I will be selling books in the Mankato Civic Center and reading from Scruples sometime after 4.  Don’t miss me; I’m the last reading.

In October I will be preparing for a few indoor events–arts and crafts.  I’ve had a few people ask me when I’d made more of Jennie’s Pure & Simple products–like Jennie’s wild rose facial cream.  I will be as soon as I get back from Mankato.  If you need to order now is the time because I’d like to know how much to make.  My sister is making up soap so if there is something special send us word as soon as possible.

I’m still writing the essay about the first ordained female Methodist minister in Minnesota.  Not so slow, but I’m still finding information about her.  Anyway, this is just an update on a cold, wet Sunday afternoon.  Hopefully, I’ll be finished with that soon.

November brings an arts and crafts festival in Monticello and the last weekend before Thanksgiving takes me to another arts and crafts in Long Prairie.  All of my products and books would be great Christmas gifts so hope to see you soon.











Hurricanes, Tornadoes, Blizzards–Oh, My!

I’ve experienced all types of storms.  When my husband and I visited Fort Sumter sometime between 2000-2005, we experienced the beginning of a hurricane.  The park personnel took us out by boat to the site, but hurried us and cancelled all other tours.  I felt like I had been wrapped in Saran Wrap.  The hot and humid wind bathed me in salt.  I trusted the guides to get us back to Charleston before the true storm began but I was nervous anyway.  By the time they returned us to the harbor, most of us were rain, sweat, and salt-water-logged.  My husband decided that we had time to tour the Yorktown, an aircraft carrier used during WWII.  This took an hour or so as we nearly ran the through the ship to see as much as possible.  He also decided to tour a submarine that was also there. I didn’t go–I don’t like heat and  I am claustrophobic  as well–no way I wanted to enter a sardine can. The husband had pretty much dried off from our trip to Fort Sumter, but when he climbed out of that belly, he was drowning in his own salt-water.  Sorry, to be so descriptive.  We headed out of town, following the parade to get as far away as possible.  We ended up in Columbia and stayed in a hotel.  I have no idea where those who were locals escaped to avoid this bullying storm.

I’ve lived in the Midwest almost all of my life, except for a 7-month stay in Biloxi and a 3-year stay in Oregon, so I know firsthand what a tornado can do.  Trees on top of roofs, cars turned over, houses blown away…..Nothing major ever happened to me or my kin, (except for my great grandfather and mother who lost their home in Iowa in the early 1900s–also the record player given gr great grandfather by Thomas Edison)  but summertime always brought the threat of tornadoes. I remember one in particular when we lived on Warner Lake:


Steamy, mute afternoon—

no singing meadowlarks

no tapping crickets

no clapping leaves.

Silently, a wizard’s cauldron brews.

Across the pasture,

a smoky black cape twirls toward the sky.

Mother with diapered sister,

and I with yipping mutt,

crawl into the fruit-jarred tomb.

We pause in musty dark

when father closes the lid.

A monkey screech of lawn chairs

crashes against the house.

Lions roar above our heads.

Quaking cellar ceiling rages dust.

Flickering candles illumine

ogling scarecrow eyes and gaping mouths.

As quietness returns,

we unearth ourselves to find:

no yellow-brick road to follow,

no ruby-red slippers to claim.

We sop through melted-witch puddles,

sort through straw sticks, rusty tin,

and window shards

before stooping at the tipped wishing well

to collect our copper hopes.


When my husband and I and our two sons moved to South Dakota, we thought growing up in Minnesota, my husband from the Iron Range, that we had seen all that nature could provide in the way of blizzards. The one that hit in 1966 kept me and my friends home from school for quite a few days.  My father who worked in St. Cloud had to sleep at the foundry.  Can you imagine–no shower, little food, and black dust–for days?  YET, we had been in SD only a couple months when I was caught in a white-out so strong I plowed into a snow-mountain caused by the blizzard and lake effect winds.  I had to climb through piles of snow to a house to phone my husband (at least 10 years before cell service).  HE did not believe me.  He mocked me as he directed me to drive out of the mountain. The woman whose house I stopped at was really worried that a snowplow would shove my car further into the snow.  Finally, after husband promised to come save me, the snow plow came barreling down the street. I caught him in time before he shoved my car into the lake.  He pulled me out and I followed him at a distance until I got home, the road closing behind me as I drove nearly blinded in white.  When husband got to our house an hour later, he said he was absolutely shocked in how much snow had come down and how bad the blizzard was.  He had to take the long way around the lake to get home. We learned then and there never to trust a prairie blizzard.  Laura Ingalls Wilder didn’t write these stories about nasty Dakota storms for nothing.  She and we lived them!

Thankfully, in all my storm experiences, I haven’t been left without homes or loved ones. I never had to pay $7 a gallon for gas to escape destruction;  I’ve never been without water. I’d NEVER listen to the idiot national radio personality who calls Irma fake news. (NOT HYPERLINKING THAT COMMENT)  I would listen to weather experts who sake “GET OUT OF TOWN!” It is always better to be safe than sorry.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the many  people who have recently faced flooding I can’t imagine and now another Hurricane Irma staring down on others.  I hope we all remember Salvation Army, Red Cross, and evacuation centers with our offerings.  Help starts with all of us.  It is amazing how powerful our nation becomes when we come together unite for an important cause.





Cindy using husband’s welding helmet to look at the eclipse.

My sister sent the link to me because she was so impressed with the singers of the song.  She was so right!    I hope you take a few minutes to listen and watch a new spin on John Lennon’s classic because it is  for our times–now.

I began this blog Saturday morning, August 19th.  I am watching CNN broadcast of the Boston Rallies, hoping and praying for peaceful demonstrations.  Every day we turn on the news to view more world dysfunction, a somersault of ideologies, values, and beliefs. (It is Monday, and the rallies in Boston were basically uneventful–at least the 24-hour news networks had little to say about them.)

From my writings, you know I am interested in women’s issues–health, history, welfare, etc.  PBS aired 3 hour-long segments about the history of women’s suffrage in Great Britain–Suffragettes Forever!  Women in America faced some of the same challenges, but maybe, not so violent.  Women could be sold on the auction block like a slave, cow, pig, or horse. One woman was sold as late as 1917 for a pound.  Women who voiced opinions were called scolds  and husbands might force them to wear a bridle. Usually, the men dragged the women behind them throughout their villages, and sometimes the women were forced to stand in a public square to be publicly ridiculed and even labeled with  words like “nag,” or “scold.”  For centuries, many people, men and women, believed if a woman thought too deeply on anything she might damage her chances of fertility, thus the belief women shouldn’t be allowed to vote or take public office.

I understand the frustration when someone doesn’t seem to see what I see so clearly.  As I keep learning about the suffrage movement in the US as well as other parts of the world, I understand how upset women became when they kept being denied the vote, equal pay for equal work, effective medical treatment for themselves and their children.  I appreciate the sacrifices those who were on the front line made for me.   Women like Alice Paul in the United States who during a demonstration was arrested, sent to prison, and was force-fed ( a nasty affair when tubes forced down her throat) when she refused to eat.  Yes, a number of the women were radicals. It takes radicals to get things done, though.   I take so much for granted because sometimes I forget what has been done for me already.  I like what the famous presidential author David McCullough has said so eloquently :  “You can’t be a full participant in our democracy if you don’t know our history.”

Jennie in Scruples & Drams, and Maude in Needles & Pins do what they do to help women survive.  Some may not always understand why they do what they do but this is history.  It happened.  Women had no one but other women to help them.  They had no rights, no medical advice, no maternity help, no fertility information due to the very controversial Comstock laws that were passed.  Women were powerless–until they stood together.

There are good fights, holy fights; think of the Boston Tea Party, the American Revolution, the 1963 March on Washington for Civil Rights, Women’s Suffrage, Vietnam War, and so many more like Gay Rights.  

How can we distinguish between evil fights and ones that are holy?  I love what Maya Angelou said:  “Hate, it has caused a lot of problems in the world, but has not solved one yet.” (SAW THAT ONE ON FACEBOOK AND KNEW I NEEDED IT!)

So let’s keep gathering together for the good stuff (the solar eclipse–even under clouds here in MINNESOTA at about 1 pm today),

the eclipse here in MINN…a break in the clouds.

fighting the good fight, marching for the truth, and  Praying for peace, people, everywhere. AND don’t forget to IMAGINE! 


Rendezvous Around Clearwater (Minnesota) August 5


T.C. Porter, shoemaker, fur trader, farmer, legislator, Clearwater founder, husband of Abigail Robinson Camp, and father to Jessie Maude Porter, the village’s oldest citizen who died in 1962.

This year I’m doing something a bit different for Clearwater’s Heritage Days in Minnesota.  I’m  rendezvousing with others below the Clearwater dam in Lower Park. Come on down and see where Clearwater, or Clear Water as it was written early in its history, first began.

One fur trader you could imagine meeting down here is a village founder, Thomas, T. C.,  Porter.  Born in Norristown, Pennsylvania in 1826, young Tom left home with a shoemaking trade to support himself when he moved to Missouri for a short time.  A half-brother he referred to as Lafe set him up in the fur trading business.  From there, Tom took a riverboat up the Mississippi and landed at St. Anthony where he, his cart, his two oxen, the first in the Red River ox trade business outfitted with two oxen, beaver pelts, and other supplies to trade at Pembina  and Fort Garry in Winnipeg, Canada.  He made acquaintances with other fur traders and members of the Selkirk Colony, including the Metis, those great crossed-culture peoples of Scotch, Irish, French and First Nations.  Eventually,  T.C. settled down to help develop the village.  He became a farmer, held many positions in the community government, and became a state legislator. He married Abigail Robinson Camp, the first white woman to come to Clearwater,  who gave birth to Jessie Maude Porter in 1862.  Clearwater’s oldest pioneer. She died when she was 103.

Lower Park, or Riverside Park, in Clearwater.

Do you know that here in Lower Park the village began?  Thomas Tollington, his house is still standing up the hill on  Spring Street, opened a saw mill down here. He became a furniture builder and an undertaker.  Other people like H. C. Wait, (he is the namesake for Waite Park) opened a feed mill called the Clearwater Roller Mill.  Don’t forget Pat Quinn’s first saloon, a sample room, was down here as well before the 1897 flood swept it down the Mississippi, taking the Catholic church historic records that he was storing with it. The Lynden Township Hall also stood down here.

The bridge across the Clearwater River that led up Main Street.

History is what heritage is all about.  Without the village’s early history that links it to places all over the United States, Canada, and Europe, Clearwater Heritage Days would hold no meaning.  So come rendezvous with me, my sister, and other more official land and water travelers down at the park.   Recognize their deep culture as they exhibit the skills needed to survive in the varied elements.  Watch them exhibit their daily routines of cooking and cleaning their campsite.  Talk with them about their lifestyles, the dangers they faced on their journeys, what and how they ate and slept.

I’ll be selling my books, Scruples and Drams, Around Clearwater, and Postcards from the Old Man In addition, my sister and I will be selling some of Jennie’s Corner ephemera.  Unfortunately, due to the climate, we cannot bring Jennie’s Corner element-sensitive products like soaps and lotions.

I am not a morning person (nor am I an evening person), but I’ll try my hardest to be set up or at least present in the park by 9 a.m, Saturday, August 5.