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Sioux Falls Parade of Lights

The holiday season kicks off this Friday, November 23rd at 7:30 p.m. in Sioux Falls with sparkling lights and outdoor cheer at the 21st annual parade of lights. The parade will run along Phillips Avenue between 14th and 5th streets in historic downtown Sioux Falls. Immediately after the parade, the public is invited to the Holiday Inn City Center, where folks can sip complimentary hot apple cider and munch on cookies as five awards are given to the most dazzling parade entries.

Photos from the 2011 parade by Reistroffer Design.

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Merry Christmas From One South Dakota Atheist

Spearfish let school out early last Thursday. I returned to the high school an hour later with Secret Santa presents and a cooler full of pop for our French Club Christmas party.

As I headed down the quiet hallway, I spotted a dark-haired girl sitting alone on a bench, tapping away at her computer. I played the dorky teacher (play? I live that role). Approaching, I smiled and said:”You know, it’s Christmas! School’s out!”

She smiled back that awkward teenage smile I see a hundred times a day, the smile that gets me to work on time. As I passed, she ventured timorously”Merry Christmas?” She spoke with that upward teenage twist that says,”Is this what I say to fit in? Will you think I’m a dork for saying it?”

In the Hallmark movie version of my life, I stop, return to the girl, kneel before her, clasp her hands between mine, and say as music swells,”Bless you, dear child, for sharing the spirit of the season!” In the version of my life imagined by right-wing culture warriors, this godless public school teacher writes her up for peddling religious myths.

In real life, I turned, returned her greeting, and continued to my classroom.

I am glad that girl said Merry Christmas to me. I enjoy hearing people wish each other well. I enjoy seeing schools, stores, TV stations, and the rest of us breaking from our schedules to make time for ourselves, our friends, and our families.

I am not glad to hear”Merry Christmas” turned from a goodwill wish into a battle cry. The”War on Christmas!” rhetoric doesn’t just broadly tar non-believers; it encourages Christians to declare war and fight back.

But Christmas has no room for militancy. Christmas says,”Shushhh! New baby! Wonder. Awe. Shhh.” Certain believers say one baby born in a barn 2000 years ago came to bring peace on earth. Believers ought to model that peace in word and deed. Non-believers ought to respect and embrace that spirit.

Girl in the hallway, I hope you’re having a wonderful holiday. And if your Aunt Lucinda starts complaining about those darn atheists waging war on Christmas, tell her to peace out… and tell her the secular humanist French teacher at your school wishes her a Merry Christmas… and a Happy New Year… and very, very nice day.

Cory Allen Heidelberger writes the Madville Times political blog. He grew up on the shores of Lake Herman. He studied math and history at SDSU and information systems at DSU, and is currently teaching French at Spearfish High School. A longtime country dweller, Cory is enjoying “urban” living with his family in Spearfish.

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Christmas at the Poor House

History tells us that memories of hardships will fade with time, but kindnesses shown are long remembered.

In the 1930s, down-on-their-luck families sometimes lodged in county poor farms. Herschel and Hilda McKnight ran the Charles Mix County Home for the Poor in those years. It was housed in a four-story building that was once the Ward Academy in Academy, S.D., south of Mitchell. Before her death, Hilda told of her experiences to Marian Cramer, a Bryant farmwife and teacher who has written several articles for South Dakota Magazine.

Several times through the years, we’ve related Hilda’s story of a 14-year-old girl’s Christmas at the Home for the Poor. Here’s an abbreviated version.

Hilda said she always remembered the day that Carol arrived with her mother.”It was never easy to welcome people to a poor house. Herschel moved quickly to the door and opened it. He had a special way of putting people at ease.”

The McKnights strived to provide clothing so the kids wouldn’t look out-of-place at school. The mothers and two WPA seamstresses sewed and repaired donated clothing. Carol befriended the McKnights and offered to help in the laundry and sewing room as well. But one day in the fall she told Hilda,”I know how hard you and Mr. Mac worked to get us nice clothes. It really doesn’t matter, I guess. I have this lovely skirt and they still call us ‘poor house kids’ at school.”

Hilda gave Carol a hug, and to hide her tears she fussed with a missionary barrel that had just been delivered from a church in the East.”Let’s see what treasures we can find,” she said. Together, they laughed as they pulled out wool pants with the seat worn thin, a pair of long underwear with holes in the knees and elbows, and other useless things. But way at the bottom, Carol pulled out a chiffon scarf. Though threadbare, it seemed lovely to her eyes.

“Would you like to keep it?” asked Hilda. Carol’s answer was to hold it closely and nod. The scarf was her doorway to dreams. She would sit on her bed and finger the soft chiffon. She was not in the Charles Mix County Home for the Poor. She was far away. She always neatly folded her scarf and put it away.

The holidays came in 1933 despite the dust. Hilda and the women baked cookies and decorated the poor house with paper chains. The county allowed one clothing gift for each resident, so the McKnights shopped carefully to make it worthwhile.

A few days before Christmas, Carol tapped on the McKnights’ door.”You have been so busy for all of us, but you won’t have any Christmas presents, any Christmas,” she said.

Hilda assured the girl that they would celebrate Christmas together as one big family.”You are all our family, Carol. We are happy.”

On Christmas morning, Carol hesitantly returned to the McKnights’ room. First, she approached Herschel.”I don’t have a present for you,” she said.”Just a hug.” Herschel was a big man, and he enfolded the slim girl in his arms.

Then Carol said,”Mrs. Mac, I have something for you.” She handed Hilda a box wrapped in paper, and watched like a hawk as she untied the string. Beneath the crackling paper was the girl’s chiffon scarf.

Hilda fought back tears as she fingered its softness.

“It’s all I have, Mrs. Mac,” Carol said.

Hilda told our writer that she treasured it forever:”The frayed chiffon scarf is forever my symbol of Christmas and a true gift of love.”

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Christmas Morning Dreams

Early morning whispers of “Santa came.” Bleary eyes and bed head. Twinkly lights on the tree. Squeals of delight over the mountains of gifts. Overflowing stockings. Torn wrapping paper and streamers of ribbon. New pajamas. Hot cocoa with tiny marshmallows.

Sounds delightful, doesn’t it? I dream of Christmas morning rituals, but at our house, the farm always demands attention. Lambs that need to be fed daily force Hubs to get up and do chores rain or shine, Christmas or not. I can hope that he makes it home for lunch on a holiday, but there are no guarantees.

So, I dream of pancakes and waffles and muffins and bacon and sausage and eggs, hot coffee with lots of cream and sugar, fresh squeezed orange juice and big glasses of milk. There isn’t a breakfast food I don’t like, and we often dip into these recipes for supper on cold winter nights.

The holidays are the perfect time to dream of Egg Nog Pancakes. I pick up a quart of egg nog as soon as I see it in the grocery each winter. It makes delicious, tall and fluffy pancakes. Not crumbly pancakes like so many of the mixes and famous restaurants produce; I do not dream of those. Homemade Egg Nog Pancakes are golden and rich with a perfect texture and wonderful, slightly spiced flavor. Top them with a pat of butter and a pour of gorgeous maple syrup and dream of Christmas morning or a warm supper, as the case may be.

Egg Nog Pancakes

2 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
2 eggs
2 cups egg nog
2 tablespoons butter, melted

Combine dry ingredients in a medium bowl. In a large bowl, beat wet ingredients until combined. Sift dry ingredients into the wet ingredients, stirring to moisten. Ladle batter 1/4 cup at a time onto hot griddle (may lightly grease, if necessary). Flip when bubbles form in the pancake; cook until second side is golden brown. Makes 4-6 servings.

Fran Hill has been blogging about food at On My Plate since October of 2006. She, her husband and two dogs reside near Colome.

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Why We Print 50,000 Magazines

The Christmas season is glorious for many reasons. It’s heart-warming to see how our fellow South Dakotans respond to needs at food pantries, community holiday feasts, toy collections and other such projects.

South Dakota Magazine also benefits from the generosity of our people. When we started the magazine on a shoestring 27 years ago, we stumbled along through a slow year. We went door-to-door to sell enough subscriptions to qualify for a second class mailing permit from the post office.

I had a few cows in those days, and I was wondering, as winter approached, which one to sell to pay the next printing bill. I was figuring on the fat one that ate the most hay.

Then came Thanksgiving, and somebody walked in the office door and asked if he could buy a subscription for his brother in Iowa. I was busy with something else, but I politely said I couldn’t think of any law against it. Silently, I was thinking that this would be a little extra work for me. Then he asked if we had any kind of gift card to give his brother. We didn’t.

A few days later, a nice lady came in and bought subscriptions for all her children. “I want to make them homesick for South Dakota,” she said.

Soon other folks started to interrupt our work by calling on the telephone and ordering subscriptions. We soon coined an original phrase — “gift subscriptions” — and we even printed some cheap little postcards to send to the recipients.

The fat cow got to stay on the farm. The printer was paid in full by New Year’s Day. And those pesky gift subscriptions are a big reason why South Dakota Magazine is now the biggest statewide magazine on the Northern Plains.

This year we have been busy processing gift subscriptions for weeks. Our press run for the Jan/Feb issue is 50,050 — a new high. And we owe it all — not to udders, as the late Richard Kneip liked to jest about people in the cow business — but to you, our loyal readers who continue to help us find new readers.

Merry Christmas to each and every one.

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Borglum’s Last Christmas

Editor’s Note: The author, Bob Hayes, grew up in Keystone. He worked as a mining engineer for 40 years before retiring to his hometown, where he has been an active participant in history gatherings. This story comes from “Collected in the Alex Johnson Hotel,” a group of tales gathered at the West River History Conference that appeared in the July/August 2006 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117.

Sculptor Gutzon Borglum often entertained his workers at Mount Rushmore with lavish dinners in the boarding house near the mountain or at the Alex Johnson Hotel in Rapid City, or at picnics at his Hermosa ranch.

My father, Edwald Hayes, ran the tramway up and down the mountain for eight years. As part of the Mount Rushmore family, I attended many of the parties. I especially remember the Christmas of 1940 in the old studio building at Rushmore, where Dad played Santa Claus. It was a role he would play in Keystone for more than 50 years.

Mother took my four-year-old sister, Judy, and me to the party. Of course, Dad did not go with us. When we got home, Judy was excited to see Daddy. She ran jubilantly to him shouting,”We were at Rushmore and we saw Santa Claus, and he had shoes just like yours!”

That party was perhaps Borglum’s last. He died the following March in a Chicago hospital.

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Christmas: Past, Present and Future

Here is a basic problem of modern political philosophy and economics that is appropriate for the season: was Scrooge A a man of modern virtue? By Scrooge A, I mean Scrooge before his Christmas Eve enlightenment. By modern virtue, I have in mind the Machiavellian sense of effective virtue, that is, a set of habits that is efficiently if not ruthlessly productive.

The answer is obviously yes. Scrooge A was about as efficiently productive as it is possible for a human being to be, as least when it comes to cold, hard, cash. Cruel as he was, he had money to lend and a job for poor Bob Cratchit.

Dickens’s Christmas Carol is one of the most perfect yarns ever spun. This is due in large part to his sublimation of Christianity. The tale is, to be sure, full of ghosts; but, apart from the word Christmas itself, I think there is not the slightest mention of the Holy Ghost. Dickens writes as if he were trying to smuggle the Gospel onto the courthouse grounds under the watchful eyes of our Supreme Court. This has the paradoxical effect of making the Christian message of redemption all the more compelling.

A second aspect of its perfection lies in the marvelous splitting of time into past, present, and future spirits. All three ghosts are, of course, one and the same ghost: Christmas itself, a religious festival incarnate (or almost incarnate, the ghosts being more or less vaporous and visible only to Scrooge). But Christmas appears differently from the three temporal points of view, thus grounding itself in the most basic existential fact of human life. The past and present are history. Only the future may be redeemed.

Last, but not least, Dickens shows the flaw in modern virtue without rejecting modern virtue. Anyone can see that there is something desperately wrong with the way that Scrooge A is living. Sipping warmed up broth in his frigid chambers, without the comforts of love, friends, or family, what is the point of being rich? On the other hand, it is precisely the efficiency of Scrooge A that makes his transformation so wonderful. Scrooge B can afford to send the Cratchits a gargantuan turkey. He can afford to redeem his sister’s love by changing his nephew Fred’s circumstances. And he can afford to save poor Tim. It is worth mentioning that he can also afford to make his place of business and his home a good deal more comfortable.

I have heard it said that Dickens more or less revived and profoundly shaped our later celebration of Christmas. It is certainly part of an interesting shift in the Christian calendar. The most important Christian festival ought to be Easter, for the resurrection constitutes the essential promise of the Gospel: as Christ walked out of the tomb, those who believe in Him may do likewise. Christmas has come to overshadow Easter, even among the most pious Christians in the modern world. Because of Scrooge A-like modern virtue, we can afford to be very generous when a Scrooge B-like mood hits us.

Say what you want about the evils of capitalism, it has done more to supply the hearths of the poor than dropping alms into collection plates ever did. More Tiny Tims of the developed world have been saved by the power and prosperity of modern civilization than ever were by a ghost sprinkling Christmas cheer. But A Christmas Carol is not about their salvation. It is about Scrooge’s salvation.

I have seen a lot of versions of A Christmas Carol. My favorite by far is the version starring Patrick Stewart. No one has presented the contrast between the redeemed and unredeemed Scrooge so well. When he finds himself alive on Christmas morning, he suddenly seems to strangle and cough. He has not laughed in so long that he can hardly remember how to do it. It also adds a scene in which Scrooge attends a Christmas morning church service. He is unaccustomed to the venue. The usher has to remind him to take off his top hat. As he squeezes into a pew, he tries to sing but doesn’t know the words. As the man next to him kindly shares his hymnal, Scrooge begins to rejoin humankind. When, to everyone’s astonishment, he shows up at Fred’s for Christmas dinner, he knows that the person who has to accept him is not Fred but Fred’s wife. He says to her: “can you forgive a stupid old man who doesn’t want to be left out in the cold anymore.” I tear up just typing those words.

All this reminds us that modern virtue, for all its power, would be a very poor thing without Christian virtue. Merry Christmas.

Dr. Ken Blanchard is a professor of Political Science at Northern State University and writes for the Aberdeen American News and the blog South Dakota Politics.

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Lefse: Step By Step

In our Nov/Dec 2010 issue, Rev. Kwen Sanderson shared his lefse-making technique with our readers. The Lutheran pastor has spent the last 20 years perfecting his lefse craft. Working with real potatoes can be problematic due to varying moisture content, so Sanderson recommends using potato flakes. To learn more about Rev. Sanderson and his lefse tips, read Rev. Sanderson’s Lefse Ministry.

Equipment needed: Pastry board, lefse iron or griddle, lefse stick, rolling pin

1 c water
3 c milk
1 stick butter
1 c cream
4 c potato flakes
2 c flour

Bring water, milk, butter and cream to a boil. Pour mixture over potato flakes. mix well and let cool overnight. In the morning (or when you’re ready to make the lefse), add flour. Makes 15 lefse.

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Reverend Sanderson’s Lefse Ministry

Editor’s Note: This story is revised from the Nov/Dec 2010 issue of South Dakota Magazine. To order a copy or to subscribe, call 800-456-5117. To view more photos of the lefse-making process, visit our step-by-step lefse gallery.

Sanderson likes the bubbles on his lefse a golden tan, not brown. He was taught the intricacies of lefse-making by one of his parishioners, but says he is still learning and trying new recipes 20 years later.

Rev. Kwen Sanderson calls himself”the shepherd to the Swedes,” a title he earned from 35 years of Lutheran ministry as well as a talent for rolling lefse. Sanderson and his seven siblings were born and raised in Sisseton, and then Brookings where the seven boys became successful wrestlers. Their lone sister, Joy, was a wrestling cheerleader. To qualify for their weight classes, there were times when they had to resist second helpings of their mom’s delicious lefse, which she made as a common side dish.

After his ordination, Sanderson became a lefse expert because it reminded him of happy childhood days, but also because it connected him to churchgoers.”I wanted to be able to discuss with Scandinavian farm women the intricacies of making lefse. It’s a way of talking about the values of the elderly and getting to hear their stories,” he said.”Plus it’s good and tasty.”

He became adept at the art of lefse while serving a church in Minnesota, where church janitor Ruth Hanson tutored him for several years. Eventually, he and Mrs. Hanson perfected a recipe using dried (or instant) potatoes.”It is so much simpler,” he says.”The problem with real potatoes is that the moisture content varies quite a bit. With dried potatoes it’s easier to work with and half the time.”

Mrs. Hanson also taught Sanderson to appreciate the most crucial moment of lefse making: recognizing when the dough has the perfect amount of flour.”That’s the key to making lefse,” says Sanderson.”That amount is known when you are kneading the dough and the dough doesn’t stick to your fingers, then you have the exact amount of flour.”

Of course, lefse-makers are traditionalists by nature so he has had many good-natured discussions with cooks who would rather peel a potato than open a box. He is also willing to argue with potato purists over which variety makes the best lefse.”I personally like Yukon Gold because it has a bit of yellow and adds color and some sweetness,” he says.”Pontiac Reds vary the most in moisture content so they’re tricky.”

Lefse, once a staple for the Sanderson clan, is now a holiday treat at Thanksgiving and Christmas. All the ex-wrestlers now eat it with generous lathes of butter and sugar. Some prefer brown sugar, others like white or powdered. And there are some cinnamon-lovers. All the extra calories haven’t made them heavyweights; the reverend, now 61, looks like he could make his high school weight class of 112 if he missed a meal or two.

Sanderson says lefse is also ideal as a tortilla or pita bread. He likes to stuff it with turkey, ham or mashed potato leftovers from a holiday feast.

For nine years, he was the pastor of Dalesburg Lutheran Church in Clay County, the congregation that hosts the well-known Midsommar Festival every June. That’s where he gained the title of”shepherd to the Swedes.” He helped the Dalesburg youth group prepare and sell lefse to earn money for their annual Bible Camp. Sanderson now lives in Yankton and ministers to inmates at St. Dysmas Lutheran Church, at the Mike Durfee State Prison in Springfield.

Lefse-making seems daunting to those who didn’t grow up in a Scandinavian household, but Sanderson said it is like wrestling, preaching, farming and a lot of other Midwestern activities. It’s something that will improve with time.”That’s the great thing about lefse,” he says.”It’s not an exact science. You’re always learning.”



Kwen’s Lefse Tips

  • Keep dough refrigerated until use. Sanderson always lets his dough sit overnight.
  • If the dough sticks to your fingers while handling, add a little bit of flour. But remember, you’re better off having less flour (and adding more slowly) than beginning with too much, because then”you’re up the crick.”
  • Use a corrugated rolling pin covered in an athletic sock to keep the dough from sticking to the pin.
  • Before rolling out each piece, lightly flour the pastry board to prevent sticking.
  • Sanderson sets his griddle at 475 degrees.”The trick is you want to get it hot enough to bake quickly, but not too quickly. If it is too low, the edges burn.” Burnt edges can also result from rolling the dough too thin.
  • Frequently wipe off the hot griddle — when flour starts collecting on the grill it hinders the cooking process.
  • After frying, be sure lefse is completely cooled before refrigeration, otherwise condensation will result.
  • Lefse rounds can also be put in the freezer for later consumption. They usually keep up to six months.

Sanderson welcomes questions about making lefse. Call 605-670-9877.