My Brother John in Minnesota

My brother John Burgard poses at the Mississippi River.

My brother John in Minnesota speaks with a Midwestern accent. Even though I have spent more than half of my adult life in California, it’s still astonishing to me that people can hear that “Fargo” accent in my speech and realize that I was raised in Minnesota. They poke fun at what they call my Midwestern ethics. This is not to say that people from California don’t have ethics because that would be silly, but you’ve gotta admit that California is where the “dude, I flaked” mentality originated. I can hear the thoughts of my brother John in Minnesota, his voice in my head, laughing: Dude, I flaked.

Few in California are overly anxious to oh, say, wait their turn, yield the right-of-way, admit they were wrong, hold open doors for strangers, raise their hand, say what they mean and mean what they say, step in to do what’s right before asked, be on time, say please and thank you without fail; every person has her own agenda; I’m sure you know people like that. I know people like that.

Regardless, I am much more a California person nowadays than a Minnesotan. I don’t like to look at the weather forecast for Minnesota because it’s so cold. My sister sent me a t-shirt that reflects the sentiment of the weather in Minnesota, and let’s just say I can’t wear it on a plane or I would be ordered to disembark. I pay attention primarily to the weather in California. It is moving into the mid 70s this week.

Above is a photograph of my brother John in Minnesota, standing along the Mississippi River on the Minneapolis side that my sister shot yesterday. St. Paul is in the background. He has decided to stop his clinical trials at the U of M for stage 4 soft tissue Sarcoma. The tumors in his lungs are not shrinking any longer. He’s tired of feeling sick all the time. You can see there is no snow on the ground, yet usually March is the snowiest month in Minneapolis. Also, I noticed my brother is wearing new shoes. There are no leaves on the trees, and the ground cover is dormant. It seems sad and depressing.

My brother John in Minnesota says he enjoyed the sunlight. He was thrilled the snow had melted. Even though it was chilly, he looks forward to spring. He seems happy, as happy as he can be in his situation. He even argued with me, claiming that hummingbirds have more in common with insects than with birds. My sister hopes he lives long enough to take a spring cruise on a yacht (like the one pictured) down the Mississippi. It’s something he’s never done.

This photo is a far cry from the photograph I posted a few days of the flooded Sacramento River banks. We have deciduous trees as well in Sacramento, but they are budding now, plus we also have camellias, birds of paradise and many coniferous trees that retain green in our lives all year long. Winters are not so bleak. We are fortunate to live in Sacramento, whether we were born here or moved to Sacramento from elsewhere. Spring in Sacramento is a time of new life, new beginnings, hope for the future and faith that we can handle whatever life hands us.