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How We Quickly Forget About Old Technology
Twins Logo at Target Field in downtown Minneapolis
You get used to new technology so quickly that you forget how things used to be. I noticed this phenomenon when I ran across my old 2009 blog about a unicyclist in Land Park. I had included a photograph of this unicyclist in the blog and posted it on my Land Park Blog where a bunch of people made comments about how darned lucky was I to have had my camera with me that day. What were the odds? Remember, there were no cellphone cameras in 2009. The blog before that talked about how I might have been the only agent in Sacramento without a national calling plan on my phone, which is completely incomprehensible today.
Even so, even being surrounded by all of this technology, sometimes we have to rely on doing things the old-fashioned way, or what I call always having a Plan B.
I landed at the Minneapolis airport last night, in town to visit my niece and sister and to spend a little bit of time with my dying brother for a few days. I remember when it used to be the Lindbergh airfield, but today everybody includes St. Paul in the title so that poor city won’t feel left out, and they tossed in international, like they did in Sacramento to add that cosmopolitan flavor, even if you can only fly to Mexico, but it is still just the Minneapolis airport to me.
After much discussion with my sister about her vehicle situation, in light of the fact she owns a SMART car that holds only 2 people and doesn’t always go into reverse, it seemed like a good idea to rent a car at the airport. How hard could it be to find the hotel, which was only a few miles away?
Hertz asked if I wanted GPS. Well, first, I used to live in Minneapolis, even if it was 13 years ago. Second, I had printed out directions from the Hertz rental spot at the airport to the hotel from Google. Third, I had Siri and, because sometimes Siri is unavailable, there is also my own GPS map app. How could I get lost driving to the hotel?
Well, first, the GPS in the rental car was not activated. Second, it was too dark to read the directions. My map function would not work. The arrow just sat there and refused to move. Siri could not hear me and at one point she flashed a message on the screen that she was not working for some reason. Wake up, Siri, wake up!! Still, cars were moving along in the exit lane and I had to quickly choose from an assortment of electronic billboard signs, which offered a variety of freeways and roads at my disposal.
Quickly I eliminated all of the ways I knew for certain I did not want to go and then chose 494 toward Bloomington. All the while I continued to scream at Siri to take me to the hotel, but she could not hear me. Every so often, I poked the arrow button to no avail on my GPS app. Then I spotted the 24th Avenue exit, which sounded familiar so I took it, and way off in the distance I could make out the Ikea store, which is near the hotel. Do I turn left or right or go straight? I chose straight, made a right and turned directly into the hotel parking lot and spotted my sister at the entrance.
How lucky was that? It was like magic. I got there on my own accord, and I still don’t know how I managed this without technology. But I do know that I had packed my bluetooth into my luggage and had not turned it off, which is why Siri could not hear me.
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.
Rocking Out at the Basilica Block Party in Minneapolis
Sun Country Stage at the Basilica Block Party 2015 in Minneapolis
You could not have asked for better weather in Minneapolis for the Basilica Block Party this summer. It was slightly overcast without direct sun, warm but not too sticky, coupled with a cool breeze. It’s funny in retrospect, but we used to live within walking distance to the Basilica, in a Victorian house in the Whittier neighborhood, yet we never went to the Basilica Block Party. Now that we live in Sacramento, we go. Flew in on Friday and go home on Sunday.
Laura Burgard, Margie Burgard and Elizabeth Weintraub at the Basilica Block Party
The event was organized well except for the type of VIP tickets we purchased. They routed us through 3 different VIP spots, spaced far enough apart that if they were portals we could have easily created a mind control field in Ingress consisting of more than 500 mind units. The first spot they ripped our tickets in half and gave us a wrist band.
The next spot, we got a wrist band for drinks but to get any food, we had to truck clear across the venue to the opposite end, and let’s not even discuss how difficult it was to get our free t-shirts because that would lead me to talking about the parking situation and how messed up that was. Apparently somebody roped it off so no VIP ticket holders could park on the designated floor, a situation we resolved by me getting out of the car and physically removing the barrier.
Jenny Lewis and band at Basilica Block Party in Minneapolis
We didn’t see much of my niece, Laura. Nor my sister, Margie, because neither were interested in standing in the front row to see Jenny Lewis. I mean, right there, front and center of the stage, and they didn’t want to do it. What are the younger kids coming to, I ask? Jenny Lewis came on second, as we didn’t really see the opening act because we were too busy trying to collect the right wristbands, and she was fabulous. I listened to her Voyager CD over and over when I was in Vanuatu last winter. It’s a captivating piece of work, deeply personal, wandering around lost, like most of us.
Jenny Lewis performs most of her Voyager album at the Basilica Block party
Between Jenny Lewis and Wilco was a guy from Alabama, Jason Isbell, and his band. I had never heard of him before, but I don’t listen to a lot of country, and that’s where I would put his music style. He reminded me a little bit of a young Jack Bauer on guitar, or maybe that guy who played the airline pilot in the now canceled TV show Pan Am. And hey, what’s not to like about his song: Don’t Wanna Die in a Super 8 Motel (just because somebody’s evening didn’t go well)?
Lead frontman Jeff Tweedy from Wilco at Basilica Block Party
Wilco was last on stage, and that meant leaving the comfy seating provided at the Great Clips bleachers and returning to the front of the stage. Except this time we could not squeeze into the front row because everybody had their little paws wrapped around the rail and they weren’t letting go. But Row 1-A was just fine with me. We’ve been to several Wilco shows in the past, and Jeff Tweedy’s performance was every bit as good, even without the heroin addiction.
We’re just fortunate, I suppose, that Sacramento real estate can support our rock and roll lifestyle.
A Weekend Trip to Minneapolis from Sacramento
Elizabeth Weintraub and Amy Kamenick at Cafe Lurcat in Minneapolis
In another life my husband and I used to live in Minneapolis, where I am originally from. You can pick up the Minnesota accent in my speech still, even though I have lived in other states, including that place south of us known as Orange County, which is a state onto itself. My sister and niece live in south Minneapolis, and since we haven’t seen them for a while, we decided to combine the opportunity to see several bands we love playing in town on Saturday with a visit to see my family for the weekend.
It’s only a 3-hour direct flight on Delta from Sacramento to Minneapolis. Even if you don’t have family in town, it’s a cosmopolitan city with plenty to do and see. You barely have time to settle into your seat, enjoy lunch and you’re touching down at Minneapolis / St. Paul International Airport. Although, I have to add that I was astonished that Delta does not serve champagne, so no Mimosa for me. It dawned on me that I probably fly Hawaiian Airlines more than I do Delta.
The Crosstown traffic was bearable but I-35 was backed up, and adorned on both sides of the freeway with newer “sound” walls. I recall when I-35 wasn’t there and people used to live along First Avenue without the freeway, and now those houses are razed. It’s always strange going home because home is never as you left it, even when you live there all the time. Things change, you get used to it, and memories fade.
Baked Petrale Sole at Vincent A Restaurant
I had tried to find a nice restaurant for dinner with my sister and a friend from Adam’s days at the Minneapolis Business Journal, Amy. We settled on Vincent A Restaurant, on 11th and Nicollet. The waiter served me a Manhattan with a plain maraschino cherry which, surprisingly, was not an Amarena. You expect more from a top-rated restaurant. My doubts were erased when the baked petrale sole arrived, accompanied by Morel mushrooms, pickled ramps and green beans. The sole was absolutely delightful, especially when pared with the IGP-Var Domaine de Triennes, 2013, a crisp Provencal Rose.
The dessert, a butterscotch caramel, was like unwrapping a salted caramel and savoring it as the candy melts in your mouth. Splashed down with a 20-year Tawny.
Because we were still on California time, the night was young in Minneapolis. We walked over to what used to be the Loring Cafe: a quirky, eclectic restaurant near Loring Park with softwood floors and an interior that used to look like a rummage sale. It is now Cafe Lurcat, still expensive, but featuring a better wine list and outdoor seating. There we met a couple of 6-degrees-from-Kevin-Bacon friends, including a guy in town from Napa. The photo at the top of this page is of Amy and me at Cafe Lurcat in Loring Park.
In case you’re wondering, we have house sitters caring for our home in Land Park and the 3 cats that occupy it. That arrangement, plus in-flight WiFi, is what lets this Sacramento Realtor sneak out of town every so often.
