When the great blizzard of 1888 swept the plains, hundreds of settlers died. No indigenous lives were reported lost ..read more

The events at Slaughter Slough ..read more

Stories from the survivors of the 1888 Children's Blizzard ..read more

When the war came to a brief lull in Luxembourg, two GIs came up with a plan to bring a small bit of joy to the long-suffering children ..read more

..read more

The birthday of Sinclair Lewis is now a bit behind us now, but in his honor, I thought I’d sing the glories of a Sinclair Lewis 1/3 pound cheeseburger, served up with pickle and fries at the Palmer House, downtown Sauk Center, an old hotel that's not changed its features for more than a half century and fronts on Sinclair Lewis Street. I'm not kidding. Just down the way a few blocks, you can find the Sinclair Lewis home and on the south side of town, the Sinclair Lewis Interpretive Center. All true. Google it. I can’t help but think all that glory is a bit ironic. Sauk Center's somewhat favori ..read more

I'm lucky to have grabbed a shot of my neighbor last night. The dickcissels behind our place are not particularly rare, and I love having them back again when they arrive in early summer. They're no bigger than a parakeet, and the endless ratcheting they make seems to make them almost akin. To call what they do "singing" is a stretch. It's a bleat, rough and horse, nothing like the robins’ varied melodies. Their goofy name—dickcissel--derives from the great ceaseless noise they put up: "dick-cissel-cissel-cissel." Something like that. Cornell Bird Lab says their hardcore bleat is the “soundtra ..read more

On some balmy early fall days out here on the edge of the plains, it’s not hard to believe that we are not where we are. Warm southern breezes sweep all the way up from the Gulf, the sun smiles with a gentleness not seen since June, and the spacious sky reigns over everything in azure glory. On exactly that kind of fall morning, I loved bringing my writing classes to what I call a ghost town, Highland, Iowa, a place whose remnants still exist, eight miles west and two south, a village that is no more. What's left of Highland, Iowa, is a weather-beaten sign with a map of what once stood on the ..read more

The only way to get to the Prospect Hill monument is a map or GPS. There is no signage to speak of, and the monument isn't what you might call stunning . It's big, but not huge. Both itself and what it commemorates seems little more than a footnote. Go on up and read it for yourself. On Prospect Hill, Sheldon Jackson, T.C. Cleland and J.C. Elliott, strict Presbyterians all, pledged in prayer to beget a campaign, as the monument still claims, to “win the west for Christ." Let that sit for a minute. Fifty-some years later, in 1923, thoughtful Presbyterians honored those prayers and created a wid ..read more

It wasn't upkept--I'll say that much. The grass could have used a trim, but the City is keeping it up adequately, as well they should. It stands at the very top of Prospect Hill, where once some obscure Sioux City history was created. The Prospect Hill Monument, as it’s called, attempts to remember an event 152 years ago that today wouldn’t snag a Journal headline. If you stand beside it, then take a few steps southward to the edge of the bluff, the view is extraordinary—Sioux City bustling away in three states, each state visible beyond the winding river and its interstate sidekick. The South ..read more