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Driving through Lowertown in St. Paul, bored by political talk radio, I allowed the dial to drift aimlessly to the land of eternal Christmas music and settled in comfortably...
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The bar had closed early due to the blizzard, and Nathan Greer was holding court in the wee hours.
"The stuff is alive, man," he said to the bartenders and waiters who'd...
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Micheal Larsen, known to many as the hip-hop artist Eyedea, died two months ago, three weeks shy of his 29th birthday. He was found in bed, in his St. Paul apartment, the...
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At the end of this month, this publication will come out with its annual "Artists of the Year" issue, a celebration of those industrious souls who, over the past 12 months,...
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Pink paraphernalia was strewn about near the trash bin. Nancy hadn't had the strength to drag it all out to the curb since Breast Cancer Awareness Month had ended last...
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At the end of each November, the Phillipsons toss a single desk lamp high into the lone pine tree in their front yard in south Minneapolis. Then they toast their outdoor...
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The dreary TSA agent asked for the man's boarding pass and ID, then peered at the documents as if he were an old Cold War border guard.
"Let me ask you...
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"He loved life and lived it to the fullest," the minister began, as Lars rolled his eyes and sighed.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Lars whispered to his fiancée. "He...
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It's autumn 1960. Cactus Jack and Larry Lee are on their way to Jump-River Rosy's, fixing to meet up for a rockabilly gig. On the way Larry stops at several taverns, trying to...
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I drove to Lambeau field with my son last Sunday for the Vikings game and spent the evening trying to tune out the chatter of a loud Packer season-ticket holder who introduced...
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According to Michael Speece, the Soap Factory's haunted house threw down the gauntlet. He just picked it up.
"Scaring someone was easy 50 years ago," Speece says. "You leapt...
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Squeaky Sullivan was born in a Laundromat on the east side of St. Paul in 1954. His mother had gone into labor while she was folding clothes, with his father blocks away at a...
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Freddy Jackson, an unemployed St. Paul hotel concierge, bought a broken-down MTC bus from a Hastings junkyard last spring for $2,000. This autumn, he'll be coming to a...
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Roger Nygard's head was filled with existential angst prior to embarking on his four-year odyssey directing his new documentary, The Nature of Existence. But the Orono,...
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The woman from the Minneapolis Visitors Bureau was more anxious than usual. The cool winds of autumn were blowing, and she was running out of time.
"Minneapolis sells itself...
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In a damning new article in the latest issue of Mother Jones magazine, Dr. Carl Elliott, a professor at the University of Minnesota's Center for Bioethics, argues that...
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It's late at night and the radio station is empty. The desks in the newsroom are lined up like sentries guarding a lone police radio. The chatter bursts in spurts, matter of...
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"I suppose I could collect my books and get on back to school," Rod Stewart sang in that now-stale oldie. The option always sounded pretty good to me. It smacked of renewal...
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AND SO IT begins.
Nary a media mongrel in town can feel delight today. The State Fair cometh, and once again stories must be filed, scenes described, clever turns of phrases...
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It's been a summer of hot, wet, and stormy weather in Minnesota and, professionally, meteorologists are riding high. They've been front-and-center on TV screens more often...
