Darrell Would Love to Visit Your Group

Darrell delights in speaking to book, library, or community groups. His presentations bring raucous laughter, maybe a tear or two, and plenty of opportunity to share stories about life’s challenges, joys, adventures, hopes and dreams. Lots of childhood memories, parenting stories, stories of nature and critters, from back in the 50-60s to this very day. Why not invite him to visit your group? His email is: darrellj.pedersen@gmail.com

Brainerd Dispatch Lifestyle Arts and Entertainment

Bourke’s Bookshelf: ‘I’ll meet you at the campfire’

This week’s featured read is “Who Will Carry the Fire?” by Baxter author Darrell Pedersen.

By Theresa Bourke

January 01, 2025 at 5:57 PM

BRAINERD — If you’re looking for the perfect book to kickstart the new year, you can stop now because I’ve found it for you.

It’s a story of hope, love, inspiration, reflection and — above all — a story about storytelling. It’s the second short story collection from Darrell J. Pedersen, a retired Baxter pastor who first entertained us last year with “Campfire in the Basement.”

He’s back this year with “Who Will Carry the Fire? More Reflections from a North Woods Lake.” And just like the title states, Pedersen regales readers with stories from his life, both growing up on Eier Lake in northern Minnesota and in his current home on White Sand Lake in Baxter.

Campfire metaphors abound as Pedersen makes his readers stop and reflect on their lives through his eloquent storytelling ability.

While there were still some entertaining anecdotes from Pedersen’s childhood as a “Little Dickens,” his second work focused more on his adult life, the lessons he’s learned from those who came before him and the wisdom he hopes to leave for future generations.

I appreciated a few of the history lessons, like the First Minnesota Volunteer Regiment, which was the first state regiment to form for the Union Army after the Civil War started in 1861. I also learned about the Big Sandy Tragedy in 1850, when the U.S. government lured 4,000 Ojibwe people to Big Sandy Lake near McGregor, promising their annual treat annuities of food and money there but never delivering, resulting in the death of hundreds. History has never been my thing, but learning about it through Pedersen’s storytelling helps me absorb it a little better.

I also reveled in the tidbits of Pedersen’s personal family history, like the longevity of Aunt Dorothy’s Swedish rye bread recipe and the plan for shadow boxes with his mom’s old cooking utensils and recipes. Pair those colorful snippets of life with Pedersen’s equally vivid descriptions of the northwoods scenery, and his book paints quite the picture.

I found myself picturing the landscapes of which he spoke — the snowy woods where he hunted, the falling leaves in autumn, the frozen lakes of winter and the glowing northern lights that appear in the Minnesota sky from time to time. I recalled my own years spent in a cold tree stand in the woods, hoping a deer would come my way so I could go back inside and get warm. As a teenager, I didn’t appreciate the sheer beauty of the landscape like Pedersen so easily seems to do, but perhaps now that I’m a little older, I’d use those hours for reflection on my life thus far.

And then through Pedersen’s familial stories I found myself thinking of my own grandparents, most of whom have passed on, and the trinkets of theirs I have around my apartment and always see in my mom’s china cabinet when I go for a visit. I also thought of the mementos I might keep of my parents after they leave this Earth. I don’t like thinking about the future without them, but I am so glad to know I’ll have stories and tokens of theirs to carry with me throughout the rest of my life. I’ll share those stories and items with my own kids and grandkids, God willing, and will hope they do the same.

And that’s the simple message of Pedersen’s book, to pass on stories in hopes of a better future. I’ll leave you, readers, with some words from the last paragraph of “Who Will Carry the Fire?” and hopefully it’s a message you’ll carry with you into the new year.

“Can we tell our own life stories to help our kids, grandkids, and all who follow after them to remember their history? Can we remind them that we are all in this together and that with some faith, hope, and a lot of hard work, we can right some wrongs and give hope for the future of humanity?”

THERESA BOURKE may be reached at theresa.bourke@brainerddispatch.com or 218-855-5860. Follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/DispatchTheresa .

The Road Home after Christmas

Will we make it home after Christmas? Christmas 1982, straining our eyes to see the road ahead, my wife, Jennifer, and I are driving home from a visit to my parents’ house in Alborn, Minnesota. Across the big swamp country, our car crawls ever so slowly west along MN State Highway #200. Late in the night we travel, snow storm raging around us. Freezing temperature. Pelting snow. Windshield wipers barely able to keep up. Headlights dimmed. In the back seat of our little Toyota Corolla station wagon sleep our daughter, Leah, age 5, and our son, John, age 2. Christmas love, joy, and gifts shared with Grandma Olga and Grandpa Charly, we are headed home to Outing, almost 90 miles from Alborn.

A new year awaits us, but we are fearful of the obstacles and danger along our way. The snow is deep and we can hardly distinguish the road from the snowbanks. I drive in the middle hoping to avoid slipping off into the ditches. There are no tracks in the snow, no other traffic along the way. Every time we pass a mailbox, I hit the odometer. Should we slide into the ditch, this mile marker will tell me how far I might have to walk back to find a possible source of rescue. Or, should I walk forward hoping the next farm home might not be as far in that direction? No cell phones. Miles between homesteads. Surrounded by the great, almost endless spruce and tamarack muskeg swamps of Northern Minnesota. We are headed home after Christmas with precious cargo.

Tomorrow is Sunday and I need to preach to the little flock who will surely gather at Our Savior’s Lutheran Church in Outing. That’s why we’re out on the road in this storm. First job out of graduate school. Student loans, low pay, and after purchasing Christmas gifts and gas for the trip, there is not much left in our checkbook. But we’ll be okay.

I remember being the child in the back seat, Christmas 1962, as my own parents hunkered down in the front seat of our car, driving into the teeth of another Northern Minnesota snowstorm. This time, traveling in the same area, just a little further north, along US Highway #2, from Grand Rapids to Alborn, home. We had spent the day in Grand Rapids. First, Dad sold his mink and muskrat furs at Arrowhead Wild Rice and Fur Company. Next, we shopped for gifts at Kresge’s Five and Dime Store. Some supper in a little café, then homeward bound. Nice day, but now the weather and sky had darkened and the going had become treacherous. Dad drove, white-knuckled hands clinging to the steering wheel. Both my parents squinted to see the road. The wind blew our car from side to side. Again, not much traffic as we crawled along the highway through sixty miles of woods and swamps. It was scary for me, I recall, but Dad and Mom had always gotten us safely home through past winter storms. We would be okay. And we were. Safely home. Time for Dad to stoke the fire and warm the house.

The generations pass. I remember Mom telling me about riding in the back seat of a horse-drawn sleigh when she was a child. Dad told stories about riding in a horse-drawn school bus. Surely winter storms. Also, the stormy years of the Great Depression. Christmas 1932. Maybe no gifts. Thanks to living on farms, both Mom and Dad had food. And my grandparents did their best to care for and keep their children safe as the weather and the economy dealt them harsh blows.

These days, our once little boy, John, and his wife, Maisi, make similar Christmas trips home to Baxter, where John was raised. Now it is Anders, age 10, and Bjorn, age 8, who, covered with blankets, ride in the back seat of their little Mazda station wagon. They make the journey to visit Grandma Jennifer and Grandpa Darrell. To share Christmas love, joy, and gifts together. Once time for our kids and grandkids to head for home, it means a 132-mile trip across the vast open farm fields of Central Minnesota that extend from Brainerd to Moorhead. Wind swept, with nothing to stop the blowing snow, white-out conditions often whip up. Sometimes the state even closes US Highway #10. There are gates in place at Audubon to block passage during dangerous storms. And our son and daughter-in-law do their best to care for and keep safe their precious children. Keep them safe on the road, once home, and out in the world afterward.

Christmas 2024, the wind-blown snow may once again fall heavily as we drive into the dark night along our way home. This will not be the first storm that we have faced. Will we make it safely home after Christmas? Grandma and Grandpa Ostman, Grandma and Grandpa Reed, Mom and Dad, Jennifer and me, now our son, John and his wife, Maisi – together we stand in a long line of caregivers. Together we have worked to be sure our kids get safely home after Christmas. Again, this year, we move forward, caring for the little ones in the back seat. We are much like the young couple, Mary and Joseph, who after the first Christmas, brought their little one out on the road stretching between Bethlehem and Egypt. A long, long line of caregivers.