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Showing posts from December, 2012

GOD GIRL -The History Theatre

Opens February 7, 015 God Girl by Kristine Holmgren directed by Ron Peluso Princeton Theological Seminary, 1975. The war in Vietnam is over, the women’s liberation movement is in full swing, and idealistic Kris Holmgren joins the first large population of women seeking ordination into the Presbyterian ministry. Will she survive the cynical, sinister secrets of her new career? Join the conversation Box Office Hours Tuesdays–Fridays: 10 a.m.–5 p.m. Saturdays when there is an evening performance scheduled: 4 p.m. through intermission 1 hour before scheduled performances through intermission Purchase online or call 651.292.4323 Directions 30 East Tenth Street St. Paul, Minnesota 55101 View Larger Map © 2012 History Theatre. All rights reserved.

Following tragedy - What NOT to say to your children

The phone rang at 3 A.M. I jumped because I know the truth. Only tragedy phones after midnight. "Pastor Kristine," the anxious mother cried, "Henry won't come out of the closet.  And he has a knife." Four days prior, six-year-old Henry attended his grandfather's funeral. I remembered - the little boy seem odd -  he smiled too much - giggled too much - and although he held fast to his mother's hand, Henry seemed disconnected from the tragedy of the death experience. Something, I thought at the time, was not right with little Henry. "He wants to die."  "He wants to die," his mother said through the phone.  "He says he wants to be with his grandfather." Moments later, when I knocked on the closet door, Henry told me the same thing.  If gramps was living now with Jesus, he said - and heaven was a wonderful place - a better place than this place -  why couldn't he be there? Why did he have to live far

Heartbreak at the holidays - Five ways to cope

Trust me - I know. Heartbreak over the holidays is worse than a Lake Superior swim in October. One big difference - a cold dunk in Gitchie Goomie numbs the senses. Being dumped in December is a "feeling" frenzy. Hallmark commercials break your heart.  The question - "What are your plans for New Year's eve?" makes you tear-up. And "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" is enough to make you reach for the cyanide. Even so, you can do this thing. Here are the top five tactics for making it through the holiday with a broken heart. 1. Face up.  Grow up.  Man up. Pain can make us misbehave.  Drink too much, drive too fast, fall asleep at work. You might be tempted to inhale four dozen krum kakke in one sitting.  You might find yourself attracted to that awful woman in the cubicle next to you - the one who keeps asking you to go to a Scientology lecture. Or, you might develop an addiction to Drambuie over vanilla ice cream. None of th

Beyond frostbite - or, how to survive a Minnesota winter

Come a little closer Bunky, and I'll tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. There are secrets to living well on the tundra. Secrets known only the wise, the withered and the wistful. And global warming has sheltered you, my darling twenty-something, from the truth about Minnesota winter. Because, my little Bunkster, your childhood was snowless.  As a consequence, you've grown up expecting that a flannel shirt alone will provide - that long underwear is only for the sick, old, crazy or stupid. It's not your fault, snoogie. Even so, I cannot allow you to wallow in stupidity. And so, my little punkin' - it's time you faced the truth about Minnesota. Lean in, Bunky - as your mommy shares the top five skills necessary for surviving an Old Fashioned Minnesota Winter. # 5 -  Accept.    The first step is acknowledging you are powerless over snow. Snow like this - snow that blocks the door to the deck and freezes shut the

The amnesia of Christmas

When I was a little girl, no one suffered in our house during Christmas. My mom was a member of the Grand Avenue State Bank's  "Christmas Club." If you were lucky enough to belong, the bank took your Christmas Club account money every week and refused to give it back to you -  until December 1st.  Housewives in my neighborhood loved this - because it ensured they had enough to buy their families a wonderful holiday. My mom loved it best.  Without the club, she knew she would forget to save. "It's amnesia," she said.  "I forget Christmas is coming!" My mom managed to deposit a dollar each week into her Christmas Club account - and let me tell you - when I was a little girl, $52 bought a lot of Christmas for our little family.  My own personal, private "elf"    And Christmas in our house needed every penny. My dad was a Linotype operator for the Pioneer Press. It was  good job, a decent job, a well-paid job.  But Chris