The week Chase let go

(Flickr, Michael Levine-Clark)

May, here in the Upper Midwest, is when spring finally starts. The trees are budding out all over Median Lake, crocuses are poking up from flowerbeds, and that pile of snow in the parking lot behind City Hall is melted down to its stubborn, pyramidal core of gravel and ice. Gardeners have been putting in all the tomatoes they started on their kitchen windowsills back in April — Mother’s Day weekend, that’s the date to get them in the ground, and spend the next two months dreaming of big, juicy slices of heirloom beefsteaks for caprese and BLTs, brilliant red Romas to can for sauce.

It’s also time for Median Lake Pride, second to last weekend of May. Yes, Pride is traditionally in June. But when you’re planning Pride in a town midway between Des Moines and Minneapolis, and within road-trip distance of Milwaukee and Chicago, you have to make some accommodation. We know better than to try to compete with the big cities, even if we do know how to put on a show in Median Lake.

And, honey, it has not been a quiet Pride Week in Median Lake.

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Oh, hon, let me tell you. It has not been a quiet week in Median Lake

(jby)

Median Lake got another foot of snow this week. The sun came out and warmed us up above freezing for maybe an hour, at high noon on Tuesday. That mostly served to re-establish the glaze of ice on the sidewalks — best we can do in February, on the prairie.

In weather like this, I expect you think we spend all our time huddled indoors. And you’d be right! But diners are indoors. Church fellowship halls are indoors. Coffee shops are indoors. The Rainbow Garland Tavern, the only gay bar between Des Moines and the Twin Cities, just a block off of Main Street on Third Avenue, by the Larsson Brothers Hardware? That’s as indoors as you get. And whatever else you might say about folks getting together in diners and fellowship halls and coffee shops and bars, it usually doesn’t make for a quiet week.

Steven Kramer, who tends bar at the Garland most nights? Well, he’s more or less the only person in town you might call an events promoter, and he’s been running ragged.

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Fearmongering for good?

Medical thriller specialist Robin Cook outlines the plot of a book about the catastrophe resulting from recombinant influenza, in the hope that such a book would spur preparedness efforts:

Governments and individuals will do desperate things, some rational and others not so, like deploying the military to try to close borders or using firearms to keep possibly infected strangers at bay. Hospitals will be overwhelmed at first and later forced to lock their doors. To avoid interpersonal contact, people will hole up in their homes, causing government offices, schools, and businesses to close. Many public officials will be forced to quarantine themselves from a diseased population and retreat to undisclosed locations, which will only fuel the public panic. Riot police in biohazard suits (if there are even enough to go around) will increasingly be called upon to beat back waves of sick, scared, and helpless civilians, desperate for food, water, and medicine.

Tom Clancy seems to inspire a lot of our homeland security policy (though less so under the present Administration) — why shouldn’t Cook have a go at public health planning? Personally, I find the pandemic ‘flu threat more probable than terrorists armed with exploding water bottles.