January
Winter. No Activity.

 

February 1st
Driving down 28th Avenue, I see off in the distance a fighter jet taking flight. I am so drawn to the blistering ascent, I don’t even notice the silver Infiniti shooting past until it passes like I’m parked in the middle of the street. But I’m not parked in the middle of the street, and neither are the three cars behind me as the Infiniti passes us all, flying into oncoming traffic, going 40+ miles over the speed limit until a red light brings everything to a halt.

Bet the guy wishes he had a fighter jet.

 

February 3rd
Walking through a strip mall parking lot, I see a sticker on the rear window of a bulbous Kia. It reads:

Do something with your life that will make a mediocre white man angry.

Man, that pisses me off.

 

February 4th
It’s an unusually warm day at Excelsior Park with no snow on the ground. A family of four is walking by with the daughter and father out ahead, carrying baseball gloves, and the mother and son lagging behind with a plastic frisbee.

Based on the ram-rod posture and straight ponytail, it looks like the daughter is the jock of the family. I also think the mother has a mean hammer throw.

 

February 10th
Walking past the Apple Store, I see a collection of Buddhist monks huddled around the new I-phones.

Makes sense.  If you wear saffron robes, you want to be on Instagram.

 

February 27th
Walking along the parkway, I see a guy on a souped-up electric scooter flying down the street, going 20+ miles over the speed limit with no red light to bring everything to a halt.

Looks like the guy is on his way to work flying fighter jets.

 

March 3rd
Another warm day at Excelsior Park as winter takes an early leave. This time two cabin cruisers make concentric loops on Lake Minnetonka in an attempt to break up the ice.

One word comes to mind – Titanic.

 

March 28th
Driving down the freeway, I see a cargo van with a sign on the back door:

FARMER’S FRIDGE
NO CASH ON BOARD

What? No bread or dough? What kind of fridge doesn’t have bacon?

 

March 31st
Heading to my car, I see a cranky untuned dirt bike roaring across a city park, its knobby tires scoring deep gashes in the grassy field.

When the guy’s mom said, “Make your mark on society,” I don’t think she meant ripping up a city park.

 

April 5th
Entering Thomas Sadler Roberts Bird Sanctuary, I see a posted sign with rules like no smoking, hammocks, dogs or loud music.

Did you hear that, birds? No Marlboros or Kools. No Mayan or Brazilian lounging. Leave the Chow Chow at home and zip-it with the tweets.

 

April 10th
Walking around Lake Nokomis, I see two men dismounting from electric scooters. They are about to sit on a bench, but first they light up cigarettes.

Nothing like getting out and grabbing some fresh air.

 

April 13th
Walking through the neighborhood, I see a hand-painted sign in a homeowner’s front yard:

BEE GARDEN
USE THE STAIRS

Did you hear that, bees? And utilize the sidewalk while you’re at it.

 

April 23rd
Waiting in line at a convenience store, I notice the guy in front of me with mismatched footwear:

One blue sneaker
One brown sandal

Must be Monday.

 

May 11th
It’s prom night with teenagers dressed to the nines, some reaching the sevens. They have congregated at Lake Harriet to take pictures in the iconic Rose Garden, Bandshell and my personal favorite, the recycling bins behind the Bread & Pickle concession stand.

The park is packed like I’ve never seen it packed before, but there is room for an elderly gentleman with a bionic leg to bike through the crowd on a lime green electric tricycle.

This is the kind of technology that is nice to see.

 

June 16th
At the library and see a children’s book on display.

Why does the beaver need to apologize? It’s not its fault an owl decided to sink all of its money into an unregulated oak condo.

 

June 23rd
Driving down Flying Cloud Drive, I see a sign attached to a new apartment building:

The Fox & The Grouse
A New Living Experience Begins

I guess that depends if you are the fox or the grouse.

 

June 24th
Walking through Linden Hills, I see the main intersection ripped up with a new water line set to be lowered into a giant crater. But first, eight construction workers with bright yellow vests stand around the gaping hole to chat.

Just outside the conversational circle sits an elderly gentleman on a bench.

If he wants to watch, he should put on a safety vest and get paid.

 

June 29th
In my car at an intersection waiting for the light to turn green.  Off to my left blinks a digital billboard:

Message from a kid: Come to church. It’s fun.

Message from my car: I think I’ll keep driving.

 

July 6th
At the Taste of Minnesota listening to The Wallflowers. Standing next to me is a woman sporting tattoos on both calves:

One tattoo, an octopus
The other, a cactus

Gentleman callers beware.

 

July 11th
Watching a guy in a truck pull onto the roof-level of a two-story parking garage. But he stops for there is a chance his vehicle might not fit under a sign warning vehicles taller than seven feet not to enter. Yet, he nudges, and as he nudges, a hand appears from the sunroof to see if the truck has enough clearance.

Forget the torch-carrying Lady Liberty. A hand extending from the sunroof of a Dodge Ram 3500 Mega Cab should be our new American symbol.

 

July 21st
At Thorpe Park tossing a frisbee to my brother, Chris. Above us circles a plane towing an advertisement for the hard seltzer High Noon.

Doesn’t the pilot know it’s 3 o’clock?

 

July 27th
Walking around in the Mall of America to escape the heat. In front of me is a father with his two kids. They just visited the Rainforest Café and the kids are toting shoulder-strapped water canisters the size of bazookas from the giftshop.

I try to get around them, but they are spread out, and mall etiquette dictates that one should never run over a child, especially when the child is hauling five gallons of water. So I slow my pace and follow the meandering as the family takes the escalators to the main level.

When we reach the first floor, the kids look around as the father says, “I don’t know where your mother is.”

Taking some alone time. No Anthropologies!

 

August 10th
Driving down 28th Street, I see a guy on a bike playing the ukulele.

Now that’s multitasking!

 

August 18th
Heading into Midnite Mart, the sign on the door says it’s open until 9pm.

Thanks Covid!

 

August 19th
Walking around Lake Harriet, I see an inordinate amount of dog walkers. Off to the side are two joggers taking a quick break to catch up.

JOGGER #1: How are the kids?

JOGGER #2: Fine. Keely and Kailey are in Norway right now.

Of course they are.

 

August 28th
Waiting my turn at a drive thru, I notice an elderly couple in the front seats of a convertible with two golden retrievers in the back.

Taking the kids out for a treat.

 

September 2nd
Walking around Lake Nokomis, I see a guy on an electric scooter, smoking a cigarette.

Now that’s multitasking!

 

September 4th
I turn on the car radio to hear the announcer tell me it will be a perfectly sunny day.

Rain is hitting the windshield.

 

September 6th
Shopping for clothes, I come across this end cap.

Is that really the right cross promotion? Why not Modelo Mouthwash or Ragu Rain Gear? (Is’a cloudy with’a chanc’a spicy meataballs.)

 

September 9th
Waiting at a crosswalk for the light to turn green, a guy on a bike pulls up along side me. He’s sporting a vintage Seattle Supersonics basketball jersey, and on his left calf a tattoo of a jet-black panther with blood dripping from its long, white claws.

Lady callers beware.

 

September 12th
Out for a walk at Lake Nokomis. It’s a perfect evening with no chance of spicy meatballs. A gentle breeze drifts from the lake as couples nestle on the beach, a swimmer bobs in the middle of a sord of mallards, and a group of teenagers play volleyball with nary a net. It’s a perfect moment with few complaints except for the two young women walking in front of me. They have run into a snag as one says, “I’m not sure. Let me see if I can remember the day.”

Memory!  Good luck with that.

 

September 15th
After purchasing a lemon-flavored water, I notice the only fruit in the list of ingredients is organic acerola cherry extract.

Of course it is.

 

September 16th
After crossing the historical Stillwater lift bridge, I come across this sign.

Mom always said it was good to get out and meet new traffic patterns.

 

September 26th
At the Uptown watching a band set up. One of the roadies is sporting a black T-shirt with two words printed on the back: F*CK MONEY

Did he steal the T-shirt?

 

September 27th
Driving along Cedar Lake, I see a jogger and he’s completely naked.

Bet he could use a T-shirt that says: F*CK CLOTHES.

 

October 22nd
Walking down Bryant Avenue with two kids in front of me. One is meandering as the other tries to balance a laptop on his right arm while playing a video game.

A Call to Duty never rests.

 

October 26th
Pulling into a parking lot, I see three children coming out of a grocery store. The two girls are dressed as princesses while the boy plays the part of an English knight.  And like any member of the round table, who has collected a sugar-encrusted tribute from a local merchant, the boy mounts his noble steed – a Toyota Highlander.

 

November 15th
Reading Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations, I come across this passage:

In short, know this: Human lives are brief and trivial. Yesterday a blob of semen; tomorrow embalming fluid, ash.

Here’s a guy you wouldn’t want to sit next to on a flight to Greece.

 

November 23rd
Driving down Cedar Avenue, I see a guy on a skateboard trying to walk a pug.

A little too much multitasking.

 

November 28th
Driving around Lake Nokomis, I see a family on the half-frozen shore huddled around a grill.

Looks like they are preparing their Thanksgiving meal: chilly dogs.

 

November 30th
Catching up on the news, I see a pug named Vito won Best in Show.

Looks like he made an offer the judges couldn’t refuse.

 

December 2nd
It’s the first snow of the season.  So I carefully drive down 42nd Street and notice a guy gingerly walking his bike on an icy sidewalk.

I take it as a sign there will be no more activity.