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From Wanda Gág's "Millions of Cats". (1928) I don't know what, if any, name the neighbors had given "LGN": pronounced "Elgin". I'm not even sure that the little grey cat belonged to our neighbors at 1010. But she, or possibly he, came from their yard very regularly when my father and I were outside and near the front of the house. Now, cats act like cats: but they also have personalities. They can act aloof, hostile, seemingly-oblivious, vaguely interested in you: or possibly in something behind you.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Remembering a small grey cat my father and I knew. Rules about how we should treat both animals and people, and how the seventh commandment applies to both.)

It’s COLD outside, here in Minnesota. (4:28 p.m. (22:28 UTC), January 22, 2026) Eager readers and a jester-journalist. (1910) More than a century later, still familiar. Minnesota's in the news, but not because of the weather. That's another topic, for another day. An Extreme Cold Warning has been in effect for my part of Minnesota since 3:00 this afternoon. It runs until noon tomorrow, when a Cold Weather Advisory starts. That'll run until Saturday noon. But the weather my news feed has been showing me is about the "heavy snow, crippling ice and frigid temperatures" of a winter storm that'll make life interesting for folks in "more than 2 dozen states". Maybe excessively interesting. Focusing on states from New Mexico and Texas to Maine and the Carolinas does make sense.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (How I see current conditions: Cold Weather Advisory here in Sauk Centre, winter storm from New Mexico to the east coast. And sewer tr...

Lily of the valley. Rosendahl's photo. Depending on who's talking and what they're talking about, lily of the valley is a woodland flower that likes shade, a 19th century hymn, a French novel, or something else. 1 I'm not going to be talking about hymns or novels. Not today, anyway. There's a whole mess of symbolism hanging around these little white flowers, too. Mostly involving humility, happiness and good stuff like that. Which strikes me as odd, since the wildflowers are distinctly poisonous. 2 On the other hand, they do — I gather — smell nice. I'm not going to talk about that, either. Mostly because the lily of the valley's sprays of tiny white flowers are, for me, symbolic of a house I grew up in. Along with a rhubarb patch. And clothes lines. Among other things.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Remembering little bell-shaped flowers that grew near my childhood home. Learning why they are undesirable, but keeping the delightful memor...

Chorus of mice, part of this household's Advent scene. (December 20, 2025) This is a very 'Catholic' household. But everything we do isn't uniquely 'Catholic', or something Catholics must always do. Take those mice, for example. My wife made them from bits of felt and cloth some years back, and they've been part of our Advent/Christmas displays ever since. But having a chorus of felt mice isn't an essential part of being Catholic. Although there's 11 of them, one short of the 12 days of Christmas, there's no profound symbolism involved. Aside from maybe representing the festive songs of this season.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Drummers, pipers, variable birds and The Twelve Days of Christmas. The Apostles Creed as a 12 point list. Human nature, Christmas.)

One way or another, families have been in the news this week. That is not a good thing. Families gathering on a beach planned on celebrating the first day of Hanukkah last Sunday. Then a father-son duo killed 15 of them and wounded dozens more. That father's dead now, too. News media covering the break in finals week routines at Brown University cycled through to discussions of the dead students' family connections. Rob Reiner and his wife abruptly stopped living last weekend. Police arrested Reiner's youngest son, charging him with killing the couple. 1 That left me feeling even less happy than usual about what's in my news feed: which, together with a quote I saw in an Advent calendar, got me started thinking.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Mass murder at a Hanukkah celebration, campus killings, and family murders in Brentwood started me thinking. Life, families: and a few good ideas.)

My folks had a 1957 Pontiac Chieftain four-door sedan, not unlike this one. The house next door north from 818 went through several owners, residents at any rate, while my folks and I were living there. I don't remember anything about the folks or person who owned Freckles, but I remember the mid-sized dog. More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Nobody could approach the back yard next door without knowing that Freckles was there.)

I've said it before. This isn't the world I grew up in. Today's focus on safety, for example, feels over-enthusiastic. But then, I'm one of those people who launched rockets in the basement. With the permission and cooperation of my father.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Two paperclips, two matches, a scrap of aluminum foil, and a pin. A happy memory involving a basement and time with Dad.)

Psalms 98:4; and sunrise over the Pacific Ocean, seen from the ISS. (2003) This week I'll talk about 818, a house I lived in as a child and youth; and why gratitude is a good idea. House Numbers, Names, and Memories One House, Three Kitchens The Basement and a Clothes Chute Noisy Switches and Quiet Light Bulbs The Back Yard, a Landing, and an Experience Gratitude: a Work in Progress ... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Memories of a place I lived as a child and youth. Why my parents unscrewed light bulbs and wanted a fenced in back yard. Why I see gratitude as a good idea.)

I have now seen aurora two times. The first was when my folks and I were living at 818 in Moorhead, Minnesota.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Seeing the aurora display on November 11, 2025; remembering the other aurora I saw; and taking note of a Space Weather Prediction Center alert.)

My wife grew up in a very "Catholic" family. That doesn't mean what you might think it does: old-fashioned clothes, candles everywhere, too many children, and the girls brought up to be doormats. Okay, granted: my wife is the second of seven kids. But I can't think of one of the other six who's redundant. Then there's the matter of how my in-laws brought up their children. Take, for example, the time someone from the high school called my father-in-law with an grave concern regarding my wife's younger sister.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Growing up in a very Catholic family meant was counter-cultural, but not the way you might think.)

Our first apartment was in Fargo, North Dakota ; in the square mile south of Main Avenue and between I-29 and 25th Street South . I don't know how Fargo zoned that land. From what was there, my guess is that the designation would translate into 'meh, whatever'. Our apartment was on the top floor, and had a nice floor plan. Bedrooms were on either side of a living area. A kitchen and bath shared a wall with that floor's corridor. That's the good news. Something was wrong with the place.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Learning an important part of holding a baby that is not in in parenting guides . Recognizing and accepting the vocation my oldest child chose.)

I'm keeping it short this week, (finally) telling how this summer's infection turned out, and sharing a poem my father wrote. A New Normal and a North Window "Autumn Yard Work" and Rejoicing Don't worry, by the way. The poem is short: only 14 words, including the title. More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (A short post. How the summer's infection changed my daily routine, and a short seasonal poem my father wrote. Also paying attention and rejoicing.)

I'm embarrassed. Three weeks ago I talked about a fire that one of our daughters and son-in-law kept from getting out of hand. What I said then was mostly accurate, but left out the parts that made it a good story. As I said, embarrassed. Particularly since I'd asked our daughter to look it over and correct any mistakes or omissions: which she did. But somehow I didn't notice her contributions. So this week I've pared back what I said — and added what our daughter had to say [with a couple of my notes] about a small fire that stayed small.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Keeping a small fire small depended on being prepared and knowing how to use hoe and hose. Our daughter tells the rest, and the interesting part, of the story.)

One of our daughters and her husband run a milling company on the homestead where my mother grew up. Nothing about running a small business is, I suspect, "routine", but some days are less routine than other. Take, for example, the fire that didn't get out of control earlier this summer. There's an old Red River Valley joke where a newcomer asks "does it always blow this way?" and the local replies, "no: sometimes it blows the other way". This particular day was windier than usual.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Strong south wind and a small fire in the waste pile: keeping it small depended on being prepared and knowing how to use hoe and hose.)

I took that picture of the Stearns County Fair while coming back from an errand last Saturday. It's about as close to being there as I've gotten in the last several years. But since this household isn't much more than a thousand feet from the fairground entrance, I get to see folks parked on the side street. Or, rather, I see the vehicles they've parked there. Sometimes my timing is right and I see them heading toward or returning from the festivities. My favorite memory this year was seeing a young family — dad and a little girl — heading back to their car.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Experiencing the Stearns County Fair second hand: a favorite memory, and justifiable caution during a Friday night storm.)

My oldest daughter suggested that I start telling 'family stories' about eight months back: which struck me as a good idea. This week's, involving a door and — I think — showing where I get some of my attitudes and priorities, got me started looking for places in one of my ancestral homelands. I'll be talking about that; and, eventually, what happened when a husband's idea of what's good enough didn't line up with his wife's. Surnames and Ancestry, Mostly A Place in Ottertail County: Scenic, But Not Practical Names, Language, Accents, and Legacies Changes — or — Seeking Lost Branting and Beridalen "An Interesting Pattern" Priorities and a Door Family, Names, and Links More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Another family story: this one involving a pioneer couple, a first home, and a door. Also surnames, ancestry, and what's changed in an ancestral homeland.)

I wrote this paper in 1972 for Dr. K. Smemo's History 349, The Scandinavians in America. I'm planning to share a 'family story' or two about this side of the family in Saturday's post: which will be both shorter, and easier to read than this. More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (A paper I wrote in 1972, following part of my mother's family back to a gaard in Norway, and touching on how we adopted American language and customs.)

One thing I like about families — the one(s) I'm in, at any rate — are the legacies. In my dialect of English a "legacy" is generally money or property handed down from one generation to another. Legacies of that sort matter. My wife and I are in the process of updating our will, I suppose it'll be wills, and that's another topic. But the legacies I'm thinking of aren't worth much, in terms of taxable assets. Although each of us is a unique individual, we also inherit whatever's in the genes of our biological parents: along with the experiences, attitudes, habits, values, and stories of the folks who raised us.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Legacies matter: the values and stories of our families. I note the basics of being a Catholic family: and an interest a great-grandfather and I share.)

Many towns here in central Minnesota host fireworks displays on Independence Day, but not Sauk Centre. Fireworks and Family It's not that the town disapproves of the Fourth of July, or fireworks, or loud noises: our big-deal midsummer celebration is Sinclair Lewis Days, later this month.... ...today I'll focus, briefly — very briefly — on one of the earliest times my folks took me to see fireworks.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (Remembering one of the earliest times my folks took me to see fireworks. Love of country, within reason; human nature; future generations.)

I'll have my oldest daughter tell most of this 'family story'. That's partly because this is shaping up to be a distracted week. The family was on one of our rare vacations. Our third-oldest daughter was old enough to remember the trip, and our son hadn't been born yet. That puts it some time back. Decades. We'd planned the vacation pretty well, so we had a place to stay for each night. But we ran into one of those stock comedy situations: a big-deal family vacation where it rains. A lot. I'll have our oldest daughter pick up the narrative at this point.... More at A Catholic Citizen in America . (My daughter and I remembering a rain-soaked vacation, comic books, and being part of a family.)