In 1988, I stepped out of my comfort zone and changed my life. I had accepted a job working on the Vegetation Crew for the Minnesota Conservation Corps. It was a seasonal position, run, then, by the Minnesota Department of Natural Resources.
It was like God had heard my battle cry, and suddenly, my life and my faith had changed. This was the year I lopped, sawed, preened, and cut my path to my future. I was not alone. I had the help of my crew, two men, both of whom had become stealth guardians of my heart, brother-like co-workers that became my safety net from the storms we weathered while we worked.
This is a record of my wild adventures. An unveiling of experiences as my crew traversed and cleared goat prairies at O.L. Kipp State Park (now called “Great River Bluffs State Park”); how we helped measure the second cave at Mystery Caves in Forestville State Park; what grasses we gathered at Carlos Avery Management Area; our tree projects at Frontenac State Park, the controlled burn at Helmer-Meyer State Park (now called “Meyer-Big Island State Park”); our cutting and lopping at Sakatah Lake State Park, the “singing hills” as given by the Dakota Indians. It was the place I found a mimic among us, an orange spicebush caterpillar. It was here that we sang along to Tracy Chapman’s new release, “Fast Car” between bites of our lunch.
Our journey went fast, but we drove trucks, not cars. Our lives changed with each season. Our strength had become a three-fold cord intertwined with each other’s thoughts. Surreptitiously, we had become shields around each other’s souls. Inside this story you’ll discover a grandfather figure that had spiritually hitched a ride with us. How and how his words became our mantra once we realized that things really did work out for the best in the end. It was his gift of words that helped us shudder our storms.
This story shares the seasons of new friendships, rare animal findings, banding the rare Henslow’s sparrow, to finding a state endangered species the Common Five-lined Skink, stepping on and over six-foot timber rattlesnake sheds on the south facing goat prairies—where they liked to sunbathe and had their dens. It shares our bee and hornet stings, as well as losing another MCC member we had worked with.
Hop on the tailgate of this photographic trip shared in this memoir and ride the back roads of our lives. The inside story of three new adults growing up, believing our old age was far beyond the bluffs in view. It was a time, we all relied on each other and formed an unbreakable bond.
This was our time to become stewards of the environment, a time to study and learn about rare and endangered species, hardly ever chipping my pink nails. We became the artists taking the “before” scenes and making them the “after” scenic views. In time, we’d learn to summon our faith and could tell any bluff to “move” and in some ways, it did.
Prior to this job, my life had felt like a series of coin tosses with heads or tails results that had led me nowhere and in every direction. One unnerving flip after the other, using dimes, nickels and quarters that only shimmered like mirages as they fell, giving spinning hints about my future. Luckily, the hat I wore now, unlike the head wear of my costly past, this cap, stamped with the Minnesota Conservation Corps logo, was given to me free.
Only God knew, then, the adventures He had planned for me, starting with the day I mustered up all the courage I had and walked through the doors of the Department of Natural Resources in Rochester, Minnesota.
Here is my collection of memories and reflections, and the experiences that shaped my young adult life into its own story. It’s the unfolding events about me working closely, with two men, John and Louis, both of whom had become my lifetime brothers, at least in my heart, forever stamped with “1988 MCC Brothers.”
It was like God had heard my battle cry, and suddenly, my life and my faith had changed. This was the year I lopped, sawed, preened, and cut my path to my future. I was not alone. I had the help of my crew, two men, both of whom had become stealth guardians of my heart, brother-like co-workers that became my safety net from the storms we weathered while we worked.
This is a record of my wild adventures. An unveiling of experiences as my crew traversed and cleared goat prairies at O.L. Kipp State Park (now called “Great River Bluffs State Park”); how we helped measure the second cave at Mystery Caves in Forestville State Park; what grasses we gathered at Carlos Avery Management Area; our tree projects at Frontenac State Park, the controlled burn at Helmer-Meyer State Park (now called “Meyer-Big Island State Park”); our cutting and lopping at Sakatah Lake State Park, the “singing hills” as given by the Dakota Indians. It was the place I found a mimic among us, an orange spicebush caterpillar. It was here that we sang along to Tracy Chapman’s new release, “Fast Car” between bites of our lunch.
Our journey went fast, but we drove trucks, not cars. Our lives changed with each season. Our strength had become a three-fold cord intertwined with each other’s thoughts. Surreptitiously, we had become shields around each other’s souls. Inside this story you’ll discover a grandfather figure that had spiritually hitched a ride with us. How and how his words became our mantra once we realized that things really did work out for the best in the end. It was his gift of words that helped us shudder our storms.
This story shares the seasons of new friendships, rare animal findings, banding the rare Henslow’s sparrow, to finding a state endangered species the Common Five-lined Skink, stepping on and over six-foot timber rattlesnake sheds on the south facing goat prairies—where they liked to sunbathe and had their dens. It shares our bee and hornet stings, as well as losing another MCC member we had worked with.
Hop on the tailgate of this photographic trip shared in this memoir and ride the back roads of our lives. The inside story of three new adults growing up, believing our old age was far beyond the bluffs in view. It was a time, we all relied on each other and formed an unbreakable bond.
This was our time to become stewards of the environment, a time to study and learn about rare and endangered species, hardly ever chipping my pink nails. We became the artists taking the “before” scenes and making them the “after” scenic views. In time, we’d learn to summon our faith and could tell any bluff to “move” and in some ways, it did.
Prior to this job, my life had felt like a series of coin tosses with heads or tails results that had led me nowhere and in every direction. One unnerving flip after the other, using dimes, nickels and quarters that only shimmered like mirages as they fell, giving spinning hints about my future. Luckily, the hat I wore now, unlike the head wear of my costly past, this cap, stamped with the Minnesota Conservation Corps logo, was given to me free.
Only God knew, then, the adventures He had planned for me, starting with the day I mustered up all the courage I had and walked through the doors of the Department of Natural Resources in Rochester, Minnesota.
Here is my collection of memories and reflections, and the experiences that shaped my young adult life into its own story. It’s the unfolding events about me working closely, with two men, John and Louis, both of whom had become my lifetime brothers, at least in my heart, forever stamped with “1988 MCC Brothers.”
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