When in Rochester...

Since I'm still in Minnesota (and why not since my part of Connecticut is still mostly dark and rather chilly) today's entry will once again be centered around good old Rochester.

On the day when the Northeast was being pummeled by the Nor'easter, I was enjoying a quiet stroll around the Mayo Clinic campus here in town. The weather was lovely and since the clinic buildings themselves aren't really open on weekends (the Mayo hospitals are, obviously, but not the clinic buildings) it's the perfect time to soak up the beautiful plantings, the architectural details (as per yesterday's post) and enjoy the bells pealing out from the carillon tower. The carillon is rarely--if ever--on tour, but if you get the chance to visit it, snap it up immediately. The tower offers stunning views of the hills surrounding Rochester and you can really appreciate the terra cotta work and the gargoyles from that vantage point, too.

And since Mayowood, the former home of Dr. Charles H. Mayo (and later his son Charles W. Mayo) has been in the news lately, I took the time to stop and "chat" with Charlie and his elder brother, Will, in the small plaza where they hold court behind the Gonda building. It seemed only fitting to stop and spend a few minutes with two wise and utterly old-school gentlemen. The two men were incredibly close, living next door to one another during their early married days in homes that were connected by a speaking tube. There was even a double rocking chair on Charlie's front porch...for the Mayo brothers even rocking in a chair was a cooperative effort. Charlie always looked a little rumpled and somewhat like the town grocer, whereas Will was steely eyed and the picture of sophistication and stoicism. Charlie, who would eventually move his large and active family out to the farms that made up Mayowood (there were seven farms including a dairy and greenhouse, riding stables, and a sulky track), considered himself an agriculturalist, not a farmer. The difference being that farmers made their money on the farm and spent it in town and agriculturalists such as Charlie made their money in town and spent it on the farm. A subtle, but keenly observed difference.

I think their own words..."Always do what is in the best interest of the patient" ring as true today as they did 80 or so years ago and I hope that the Mayo Clinic in the broadest sense will keep those words in mind as they go forward with their new partnership at Mayowood.

Dr. Charles H. Mayo (l) and Dr. William J. Mayo (r)

Charlie (l) and Will (r) with the new(ish) Gonda Building in rear

The view of Will (l) and Charlie (r) from the back, I like to think their
families often saw them similarly positioned. 

NaNo Something Or Other, Entry 1.

It's November 1st and that means it's National (fill in your favorite form of writing) Month. I'm generally wary of these kind of "marathons," but as I'm toiling away at getting a writing project ready for primetime, I thought that this challenge might be a good way to keep the creative thoughts flowing and keep the words streaming from brain to keyboard and/or notebook. So in addition to the new levels of productivity on my non-fiction project, I'm also committing (wow, even typing that word makes me shift a little in my chair...) to a new post here--of some kind--each and every day during the month of November. No doubt some will be short on words and long on photographic content, but I hope that it will help reinforce the general writing habit.

With that in mind then, I'm going to start November with a little photo study of The 1927 Plummer Building, part of the Mayo Clinic campus in downtown Rochester. Dr. Henry Plummer was the local genius, a physician who designed the structure with the architects from Ellerbe and Company. I would doubt that there is an ornament or motif in this building that he didn't have a direct hand in. His interest in (and respect for) art, history, literature, and medicine can be seen in every corner of this building. It's beautifully constructed and while it's not used for patients any longer, it's an architectural gem with some wonderfully ornate and detailed interiors. Wandering around the exterior on a quiet weekend is a real pleasure. The giant bronze doors (16 feet high, 5 inches thick) have rarely been closed over the history of the Mayo Clinic, so when they close it's a historic occasion. They were closed after the assassination of JFK, after the 9/11 attacks, and if I'm not mistaken for the deaths of the Mayo brothers in 1939.

The upper floors and carillon

Astrology beside mythology on the building's facade

St George, mid-slay

The Canada Geese that (over) populate Rochester

Minnesota's state mascot...the humble gopher

There are little gophers hiding in many spots, here on the large, solid bronze doors

Interior door detail

The newer (1960s) Mayo Building reflected in Plummer's windows

Griffins on the entry doors

The beautiful lighting fixtures in the main lobby

What appears to be a caparisoned horse, used as a door handle

The 1927 Plummer Building reflected in the sleek glass
of the very recently built Gonda Building

"Well, it's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, my hometown, out on the edge of the prairie."

It seems like I've been making a lot of admissions lately. From my addiction to Mad Men to my penchant for gray-colored horses and all things autumn. So you'd think I was done for a while, wouldn't you? But as it happens, I'm not so much done yet.

I'm also a big fan of NPR. I love mornings with the usual NPR morning suspects, and always appreciate the keen insights and varied guests of Tom Ashbrook and his On Point program. The quiz show, Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me! is a never miss for me and I can't help but love the Magliozzi Bros. on Car Talk...they rock.

As a native Minnesotan, though, I have a favorite of favorites. It's Garrison Keillor and his brilliant ensemble at A Prairie Home Companion. I'm not talking about the movie, I mean the weekly radio gig. With the Guys All-Star Shoe Band, Guy Noir, Dusty and Lefty; Bee-Bop-A-Ree-Bop Rhubarb Pie, The Ketchup Advisory Board, Powdermilk Biscuits. And then of course there's, the News from Lake Wobegone--perennially my favorite segment.

When I lived in Minnesota, I didn't pay much attention to PHC. I was always trying to get myself to the East Coast or Europe and was too busy to fully appreciate the warm comfort of the world Keillor built with his broadcasts. After chasing around Europe, New York City, and other points East, finally landing in lovely Connecticut, I started to find myself in my car at the time when PHC was on air. The occasional segment here and there grew into planning my weekend errands around being able to have Garrison Keillor and his uber-talented cast-mates as my companions.

Of course parts of it remind me of home and the people in Lake Wobegone, fictional though they may be, aren't so different from quite a few people I knew of in Minnesota and Wisconsin. This is undoubtedly part of the secret to PHC's success--it reminds transplanted Midwesterners (and maybe even wannabe Midwesterners?) of home, traditions, idiosyncrasies, and quirky characters. It's comforting with out being twee or too quaint. Keillor knows his audience so well and while he's often nostalgic, he's never maudlin. We remember the good times and smile at his recreation of a church picnic or town celebration because we've been to them. It is Keillor's spot-on assessments of people and fond reminiscences of 'good times had by all' that bring smiles to the faces of millions of listeners across the globe.

So imagine my sadness at hearing that Keillor, after suffering a minor stroke and being seen to by the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, was looking toward a future--one where he wasn't doing News from Lake Wobegone or his other contributions to PHC. (So as not to sound too overtly selfish here, my first concern was for his welfare...it wasn't until he announced his future plans that this really settled in for me!! HERE's a link to the St. Paul Pioneer Press' little blurb on Keillor's announcement. ) Now of course I realized intellectually that he couldn't do the show forever, he is, after all, 67 and has given an awful lot to his listeners, so he's earned as restful retirement as he'd like to have. But selfishly and emotionally, it was a different feeling. How could he deprive us of Guy Noir or the News? What would become of the touchstones that we've all connected to for so many years? And the answer was a perfectly sensible one--they'd all still be there, of course. Mr. Keillor will never give us as many anecdotes as we'd like, just like the U2 concert will never be long enough, the stretch drive in a horse race will go by too quickly, and the summer will end before you've gotten rid of some of the unfortunate tan lines you may have acquired. It's just part of the deal. We're all greedy for more and more of the things that make us happy, that's human nature. The upside is that we've had PHC for all these years and we will be able to listen to reruns for many years to come. (Thankfully U2 keeps putting out new albums, youtube.com showcases horse races so we can re-play Rachel's Woodward victory over and over and over again, and those ill-planned tan lines will fade.)

Maybe Garrison Keillor's "chastening experience," as he called his minor stroke, is a good reminder for us all to keep following our passions and to stop and look around every now and then to right the compass.

So I hope, and I bet many of you out there join me in this, that it's a good long time before we hear the final sign off of the radio family of A Prairie Home Companion. Until then, that's "the News from Lake Wobegone...the little town that time forgot and the decades cannot improve ... where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."

Mother Mayo or Follow the Leader(s)

I promise to return to our regularly scheduled programming--that of horses and hounds--in the next day or so. (Especially with Rachel running against all the big boys this weekend and the great race by Summer Bird last weekend! I know I've been remiss. *ashamed*)

Before I do, though, I have to spend a few minutes on something close to my heart, and Senator Ted Kennedy's as well--heath care reform. I'm very thankful to have had COBRA (a piece of legislation that Kennedy fought for) when I was downsized, however, it quickly became absolutely unaffordable. The Freelancers Union is a great option if you've been able to put together enough "billable hours," but it's not a perfect solution for insurance either.

I'd guess it's safe to say that there are a lot of other people out there in my same position, and it stinks. For those of you out there who believe that everyone who wants insurance has it, trust me, WE don't. And yet Senator Jim DeMint, wackadoodle Representative Michele Bachmann and many others have announced that they are pretty sure that access to affordable to health care is a privilege (like living on the seashore, getting the best table at a 4 star restaurant, or flying first class) and not a basic human right. And they are entitled to their opinions. The irony of this of course is that both have garnered thousands of votes on a platform of being devout and dutiful Christians...yet is it not part of said devotion to 'Christian values' to help others in their hour of need and to treat people with dignity? As a cradle Catholic--which I know means I'm not 'Christian enough' to those members of other 'more Christian' faiths (something I find as laughable as I do offensive, for the record), I feel it is very much part of any and all faiths to be part of the solution to making everyone's lives better. I would never want to have my own health care at the expense of another person's benefits. Everyone needs to have accessible and affordable health care at every point in their life.

There are many arguments against "socialized medicine" from various camps, but the fact that the Canadians, French, and British (as well as several other countries--the US ranks 35th in life expectancy and is bested by most of the EU countries) all have longer average life expectancies than Americans do suggests that they might have it right. Not perfect, but something to use as a jumping off point, perhaps. Certainly Canada, the UK, and France, are all properly faith-filled nations who care about their fellow citizenry enough to want everyone to have quality care throughout life.

All this brings me to the Mayo Clinic. I grew up in the shadow of "Mother Mayo" as we locals called it. It was, and is, in my not unbiased opinion, the best health care system anywhere. (Okay, I'll give a shout out to Cleveland Clinic, too, and Johns Hopkins!!) When the Mayo Clinic was founded after the "Great Rochester Tornado" of 1888, the Mayo triumvirate (father Dr. William Worrall Mayo, sons Dr. Charles H. and William J. Mayo) made sure that patients would be treated, regardless of how or if they could pay. Both Dr. William Worrall Mayo and his wife, Louise Abigail Wright, shared a broad view of charity and an awareness of social obligation. She believed that "life is not a question of what others owe to us, but of what we owe to others." In those early horse and buggy days there was no doubt a lot of payment made in chickens, eggs or the like. Whatever the patient could pay was taken for their services. Later, when Mayo was beginning to grow into the private group practice that we recognize today, it was still about patient care, not how much you could pay. There are myriad stories of people coming back to Mayo years later to settle up bills they owed. Yes, this was nearly one hundred years ago and before medicine had been tainted with the stain of greedy insurance companies and big pharma. Yes, it was in a small town in the midwest. But here's the kicker...Mayo hasn't changed ALL that much. It is still about patient care and the ideals of the founding Mayo brothers and their father are still the standard by which care is judged.

And now President Obama is citing the Mayo Clinic model as one of the systems for producing better care for lower costs. People in Rochester have long known that the 'Mayo Way' worked, and it worked awfully well. Mayo must have it at least a little bit right and they are stepping up to help shape policy in meaningful ways, for which I am thankful. As a teenager they removed my appendix and tonsils, and treated my allergies. In more recent years, Mayo doctors have fitted my parents with new hips and knees and for all of it, I'm most appreciative.

While understand that there are a number of layers to this issue that most lay people (like me) cannot even begin to fathom, I also know that at the simplest level we are all connected. We are all connected and we are all impacted. These things cannot be factored out of the debate. A high tide raises ALL boats and life is indeed not a question of what others owe us, but of what we owe others. If a nation is judged--even slightly--on how it treats the most vulnerable of it's citizens, then we need to get this right. Right for everyone of every race, creed, color, sexual orientation; right for both Yankees and Red Sox fans; right for those who like Brett Favre and those who don't. You get my point...this is about ALL of us.