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One of the things I enjoy about Ely is the ongoing connection people have to it. This is especially true of families whose children grew up here and attended schools here.<BR><BR>In the collective Elyite mind, even those who chose to live elsewhere in the world are still kept in Ely’s heart. Though physically removed, there’s enough DNA floating through Ely to recreate an image or untangle a memory bound into the location by its forests and lakes. <BR><BR>Those of us who attended schools elsewhere rarely have that generational glue that assists memory. We didn’t know who a casual friend’s grandfather was - his name or where he was employed. We probably didn’t know if the classmate had a baby sister or a mother who also worked. <BR><BR>Looking at connections in that way makes newcomers seem underprivileged.

Small Town USA... The most American thing about America (now there’s a profound statement). Where else will you run into a situation that could put labels such as caring, nosy, interested, big mouth, phoney, gossip, mean, lazy, ambitious, cheap, generous, quiet, happy, crabby - all describing one person! Depends on your point of view.<BR><BR>But because everyone knows everyone else, at least by family or maiden name (and in Ely by nickname), a mental picture immediately forms when a name comes up. Of course, this could also include the “big town” presidential candidates who are calling each other every name in the book. <BR><BR>Granted, someone moving from a metropolitan center would have a few adjustments to make, but those who choose to live in a village or community find the advantages far outweigh the disadvantages and soon fall into a pattern of living that is quite comfortable.

When you look at strangers, who do you see? A friend recently told me that when he looks at people he brings to the reality of meeting someone all the baggage of his own past experience. <BR><BR>When you are traveling through an airport, do you see individuals, humans who have a life and family somewhere else, or do you see people hollowed out yet functioning as part of a movie set reality.<BR><BR>What do we bring to our new relationships? Is it no more than the summation of our childhood, education and family?<BR><BR>There was a place I lived as a child which had a train yard separating the white, lower to middle class folks from the east siders. The east siders were mostly poor and included Polish, Italians, Mexicans and blacks.<BR><BR>When we were in sixth grade the two schools merged for the junior high grades. Altogether we were fewer than 40 students. By seventh grade new friendships involved most of the kids.

ELY ON BROADWAY? That’s not as far fetched as it might seem and while you’re at it... think big! A musical “Don’t Hug Me” is being staged in Minneapolis right now at the Hennepin Stages Theater, formerly known as the Hey City Theater, located at 824 Hennepin Avenue and the story has an Ely connection. <BR><BR>How did this happen, you ask? Well, it seems that old saying “It’s who you know” that counts, and that’s how playwright, Phil Olson, now of Los Angeles found out about Ely, MN.<BR><BR>Phil has a friend, Chuck Melcher who is a brother of Barb Colvin of Cedar Lake (that is close by Ely as we say) who introduced him to Ely for some fishing and relaxation. Phil knew a little about Minnesota, having grown up in Edina, and after only a couple of visits to Cedar Lake, he fell in love with the town and its people.<BR><BR>Because of this love affair, he decided to write a musical along with his brother, Paul Olson who wrote the music.

The original plan was to spend two nights camping with family and friends. After making it through thunderstorms the first night and, upon waking, hearing forecasts of continuing storms for the next couple days, one by one tent stakes were pulled up, soggy tents and sleeping bags were rolled up, and people began to bail out. <BR><BR>By mid-afternoon, I was the sole camper in our party remaining. No matter, I thought. I wasn’t about to let a little rain dampen my plans. <BR><BR>Granted, I did have the advantage of being in a pop-up camper and was spared the experience of sleeping in a water bed on the ground. <BR><BR>Looking back, if I had to pinpoint the start of my prideful attitude, I’m ashamed to say it showed its ugly face as soon as the first load of people and gear pulled out of the campground. <BR><BR>The big babies, I thought, and I established a clear line between them and me. They were deserters; I was tough.

Even the most unseemly people can have a fire burning within them.<BR><BR>It may be a passion for quilting or baseball, for snowmobiling or music. Whatever it is, if it is a passion to be shared a person steps out of the crowd or out of the rut to make it happen.<BR><BR>Ely is fortunate to have so many of those passionate people. They’ve drawn attention to their interests, started events or projects in motion, and with determination and follow-through have enriched our lives. <BR><BR>The Ely area now has multi-use trails, an active arts community, unique baseball facilities, festivals and performances.<BR><BR>Recently I attended a few hours of the Boundary Waters Blues Festival, held on the grounds of the Ely-Winton Rod and Gun Club’s Longbranch facility which commands a terrific view of Fall Lake.<BR><BR>When I arrived there I wondered to myself why I hadn’t gone to Blues Festivals in past years.

Stop down at the Ely softball complex this weekend, and there’s a good chance you’ll see Jerome Debeltz.<BR><BR>Between games, he’ll be grooming any and all of the three fields in use during the annual Labor Day weekend slow-pitch softball tournament.<BR><BR>One might find him behind home plate calling balls and strikes, or he might be serving up hot dogs and pop from the concession stand.<BR><BR>He could even be in uniform as a player for one of the 16 teams taking part in the Worth Before the Fall Classic.<BR><BR>It’s safe to say that no one does more for local slow-pitch softball, certainly no one has done more to keep the Labor Day weekend tourney alive, than Debeltz.<BR><BR>For well over a decade, Debeltz has organized the local slow-pitch league and did much of the behind-the-scenes work that allowed softball to continue in Ely.<BR><BR>And each Labor Day weekend, it’s a virtual family reunion at the comple

“Know thyself.” The words of advice from our Greek ancestors played over and over again in my head. <BR><BR>“Know thyself.” Know that thou doth not like to shop. Know that thou hath never liked to shop. Know that shoppeth is what thou must do when the start of the school year approaches and school supplies and clothes are to be purchased. Indeed, KNOW. <BR><BR>Know that I try not to be the type of consumer that today’s mall designers and makers of market schemes hold in the palm of their hands, yet I am. Know that I try not to fall for all of the tricks designed to entice shoppers to impulsively buy, yet I do. <BR><BR>Know that time spent carefully writing out a shopping list is time lost, for a shopping list will disappear the minute I step inside a mall only to reappear hours later when I’m home and find it in my shirt pocket. Know that this is the true definition of Retail Magic.

In early August on a warm evening when Burntside Lake invited admittance to its sparkling waters, some friends embarked on a cruise from the south side of the lake to visit a friend who lives on the far north of the lake. <BR><BR>We dallied first to the east to allow more friends to join us. Then we traveled into bays to see new building sites and marvel at the size of some homes which command views onto secluded bays and rocky islands.<BR><BR>It was a perfect evening where the laughter is comfortable and the conversation relaxes the mind to forget the inanities of working life.<BR><BR>When we arrived at our destination on the North Arm of Burntside we walked through our friends’ gardens and studio, were entertained by music from a neighboring dock, ate good food and talked of art interests we share.<BR><BR>As twilight fell we again departed for home.

It’s been about a year now since I began writing this column. During that time, I’ve often been asked two questions by people I meet out and about. <BR><BR>The first: Do you like to cook? I usually avoid a direct answer by stuttering and stammering a reply that would make most politicians proud. Or I answer back with a question. “What do you mean by LIKE?” <BR><BR>The way I look at it, I HAVE to cook. It occurred to me a few years ago that unless I learned how to prepare a decent meal for my family and me, we’d either go broke from eating out or suffer from poor nutrition. So I started looking for and trying recipes that were nutritious, delicious, and most importantly, hard to mess up. <BR><BR>But I’m like most of you who juggle the demands of family, home, work and activities. Preparing three meals a day seven times a week is challenging. I’d love to have a personal chef.