Star Tribune
Litle Sisters of the Poor leaving St. Paul after 141 years
For the first time since 1883, when Catholic nuns were summoned from France to care for elderly St. Paul residents in poverty, the Little Sisters of the Poor will no longer call the Capital City home.
While officials say they will not leave St. Paul until after they have secured a buyer for their Holy Family Residence near Irvine Park, that doesn’t mean there isn’t sadness over the loss — among the order’s seven local nuns or the families of its 60 residents.
On a recent Saturday, the residence’s parking lot and surrounding streets were filled with the cars of visitors to the Little Sisters’ annual Christmas Boutique fundraiser. Inside, hundreds meandered through rooms, corridors and communal areas to buy crafts, jewelry, glassware and the sisters’ famous French Market Bean Soup.
Bishop Kevin Kenney stopped to share his family’s appreciation for the feeling of home that the sisters provided. Kenney, a Minneapolis native, said his mother was a resident for several years of the apartments, and then the residence, before her death.
“They’re hands-on, that’s for sure,” he said. “They care about every resident who is here, and the special moment is in the process of dying. They never leave the person alone. There’s always a sister at the bedside, just encouraging the person, so that’s beautiful.”
Little Sisters of the Poor began when Jeanne Jugan, a young woman born during the French Revolution, left home to work in a local hospital. One night in the winter of 1839, she saw a blind, paralyzed old woman out in the cold and carried her to her own small apartment. Soon, she was caring for others. Then, she was joined by other pious young women. Ten years later, the group of caregivers adopted the name Little Sisters of the Poor. Jugan, who died in 1879, was canonized by Pope Benedict XVI in 2009.
The Little Sisters’ mission in Minnesota began when bishops Thomas Grace and John Ireland petitioned the motherhouse in France to send six Little Sisters to come to St. Paul to establish a home for the needy elderly, officials said.
In 1889, a larger home was needed to accommodate 200 people, and a second home was established in northeast Minneapolis. In 1977, the two Homes were consolidated and the current facility in the West Seventh neighborhood was built.
Minnesota’s law enforcement agencies have new guidance ensuring schools see more uniformity in how on-campus officers do their jobs.
Think of them not just as enforcers, but as mentors, too.
Training, too, is being standardized under a recently approved model policy that will help govern the work of the state’s school resource officers, or SROs.
The blueprint was crafted over the summer and fall by a group of educators, student advocates and law enforcement officials, among them Golden Valley Assistant Police Chief Rudy Perez, a former Los Angeles police officer and past president of the National Association of School Resource Officers.
“This is a great opportunity — now that I’m a Minnesotan — to move forward in a great collaborative way,” he said in a recent meeting of the state Board of Peace Officers Standards and Training (POST), which was charged by the state Legislature with coming up with the model guidelines.
Officers are expected to build positive relationships with kids and find alternatives, when possible, to placing students in the courts system. They are to be trained, too, in crisis intervention and ways to de-escalate disruptive and potentially violent behavior.
They still have the authority, however, under state law, to restrain students facedown in a prone position, if circumstances dictate. And that remains a concern among students and activist groups such as Solutions Not Suspensions, a coalition supporting anti-racist education.
Star Tribune
Find comfort in your food. Tips from a chef about how to keep holiday stress out the kitchen
Mullen, for one, loves these holiday meals. And even more, loves the stock she’ll make from the leftovers; a base for comforting soups to warm the December chill.
The same stress-saving tips that saved Thanksgiving can save December. A delicious pumpkin pie can start with a can. You don’t have to lug home an entire pumpkin and start from scratch unless that sounds like a fun and tasty thing to do.
“You don’t have to go buy a pie pumpkin and bake it and puree. Just buy canned pumpkin. It’s perfectly fine,” she said with a laugh. “Even buy a pie crust if you want. Although you can relieve a lot of stress if you’re in the kitchen, kneading dough.”
The kitchen can be a source of solace and joy, as well as comfort food. If the world feels overwhelming right now, look to the makers and bakers as they focus on the little corner of the world under their control — the work in their hands.
“Cooking is such a creative way to use your hands, which we don’t do anymore — we use our thumbs,” Mullen said, holding up her hands and miming someone scrolling through their phone. “I think there’s something about really being able to use your hands, feeling the food. Just take a couple of breaths, put your feet flat on the floor and put your gratitude into the food.”
CLITHERALL, Minn. – Twin Cities residents might wonder why anyone would want to live in rural Minnesota. What’s there to do? Isn’t it mostly farms, mining and bars? Isn’t it isolating? Aren’t you afraid of wolves?
Well. In honor of Thanksgiving, and to help city people understand country folk a little better, I’ve put together 10 of the things I’m most thankful for out here. They’re not in any particular order, and it’s not a comprehensive list. But they’re important to me, and maybe they’ll provide a glimmer into life out here in the hinterlands.
Dark skies. One thing that separates rural Minnesota from urban is the way you can tip your head back at night and see the white blur of the Milky Way. The sky that inspired poets, philosophers and sailors is vanishing across the planet, but Minnesota is home to two locations so dark they have been recognized by Dark Sky International, an organization that fights light pollution worldwide. They are Voyageurs National Park and the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. Other places in rural Minnesota aren’t quite as dark, but you can still see plenty of stars. Some farms have all-night yard lights, but the power company will disconnect them if you ask.
Neighbors caring for neighbors. I’m not saying city people don’t care about their neighbors, but it feels like in rural areas, we need each other more. Ambulances, fire trucks and tow trucks take a long time to reach us. And because we’re more spread out, odds are we have some connection to people who make the news for tragic reasons, so someone will host a fundraising dinner or benefit auction for them, and the community shows up. When you slide into a ditch, a nearby farmer will fire up the tractor to pull you out. When someone’s cattle get loose, you can bet that neighbors on four-wheelers will help round them up.
Being surrounded by nature. You can sit on your front steps in the spring and hear thousands of frogs waking up. Or take a winter walk and see coyote tracks. There’s the big sky of western and southern Minnesota. And the ceaseless movement of lake water after the ice breaks up. There are so many opportunities to be in nature whether you’re into hiking, photography, or just sitting still. It’s a treat to be still in the woods, listening to the wildlife, and nobody jogs or bicycles past, and you can’t hear any traffic.
There’s a real streak of weirdness in greater Minnesota. Where else will you find a gravesite for a myth? Paul Bunyan’s grave can be found in Kelliher. “Here lies Paul … and that’s all,” says the headstone at the end of a 20-foot grave. There are always the people who keep farm country lively by building hay bale sculptures next to roadways. I’ve seen hay bales painted as minions, school mascots and vehicles. For years, Whalan, a tiny city in southeastern Minnesota, hosted a Stand-Still Parade, where the parade stands in one spot and the spectators do the walking. Greater Minnesota is a perfect incubator for weird ideas. All it takes is a few friends, a dull winter, and a sentence that begins, “Hey, what if …”
You don’t have to get all gussied up. One time in Mobile, Alabama, I showed up at a bridal shower in jean shorts and a T-shirt. Whoops! Not my most culturally aware moment. So, thank goodness for the informality of greater Minnesota where I can wear my paint-spattered jacket and mud boots into Bigfoot gas station in Vining and nobody says boo. That’s not to say people don’t ever wear suits, but they’re mostly bankers or developers who have to Look Professional.
Back-to-the-land people. Half hippie, half old-time farmer, these are amazingly kind, thoughtful people who choose to live in greater Minnesota because they want to care for the land and make a living from it. You’ll meet these people at farmers markets and hoedowns, and at evangelical and liberal churches. They care about soil tilth and overuse of antibiotics, and they’re used to cleaning chicken pens, composting their vegetable scraps and saving their garden seed.
