Saying Goodbye to Minneapolis with Brunch at Nicollet Island Inn

Elizabeth Weintraub, Adam Weintraub, Margaret Burgard and Laura Burgard at Nicollet Island Inn

When one wakes up late in the morning, still on California time, with only a few hours left to spend in Minneapolis before flying home to Sacramento, she has a few choices to make. One includes lunch. The other is trying to see her brother — the guy who stopped communicating shortly after their mother died in 2002 and, for reasons known only to him has, ever since he stopped drinking in 1974, always kept his distance, but is now dying from 4th-stage lung cancer. Don’t feel sorry for me, this type of family dysfunctional behavior is not entirely uncommon.

Before we landed in Minneapolis two days earlier, I had asked my sister to try to set up a time that we could get together with my brother, but that didn’t happen. Believe it or not, I did not have my brother’s phone number in my cell. I also could not find it online until I searched under his wife’s name and finally called him myself on Sunday. We talked for a half hour. Some childhood recollections came up, between treatment and outlook. About the permanent lead dot in my left arm –where he stabbed me with a pencil because I blurted out he received a prize he didn’t deserve, which I had expected to win, as my self esteem was higher. He worked into the conversation his new dental bridge, which replaced a crown covering the tooth he had broken off in my forehead.

The conversation was like we had just spoken yesterday.

He would not be joining us for brunch. We would not be visiting him. He is hopeful about his chemotherapy. My sister says we all know how Breaking Bad ends.

Icon of Grain Belt Beer on Hennepin Bridge

After that, a woman from Alameda called who is planning to move to the riverfront in Sacramento and wanted to talk about options. I referred her to my team member; we checked out of the hotel and hailed a cab to the Nicollet Island Inn.

Life goes on.

Many people do not know that there is an island in the Mississippi near downtown Minneapolis. Even people like me who are native to the area. They just drive over Hennepin from Northeast heading downtown and cross the river, little stretch of land and cross the river again, oblivious. If you stop, there you will discover the Nicollet Island Inn, a quaint and charming restored restaurant, bar and hotel, originally a door company in the late 1800s.

Reception area at the Nicollet Island Inn, Minneapolis

The brunch at Nicollet Island Inn is fairly reasonable, $20 for 3-course brunch and $29 for 5-course. In my opinion, there is no better brunch in Minneapolis. The food is excellent, the view is unbeatable, nestled on the riverbank with a view of two bridges. It’s near a place by Saint Anthony Falls where my sister, brother and I used to go, a place where kids would throw firecrackers into the water to blow up the fish. We had discovered in the 1960s a tree log lying on the ground at a spot nicknamed Lost Park and the three of us dragged it home to make a cat tree for our Siamese.

My niece, Laura, joined us for brunch. I tried to tell her she would do well in real estate as she seems a bit directionless at the moment, having just finished her 2-year AA. She has this notion, though, that one needs to conform and “sell out” to do well in real estate, and well, let’s just say her aunt is a solid example that the idea of sacrificing your identity is a falsehood. I am a top producer in Sacramento real estate. You don’t have to compromise who you are to succeed in real estate.

Real estate does teach one, though, how to cope with life’s disappointments.