Rise and Shine Otters, Spiess in the Morning broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next to the swamp in the heart of the 32nd state. Today, it’s June 19th, and I hope your coffee is strong and your spirit stronger.
Out there in the wide world, this little slice of summer carries a lot on its shoulders. It’s Real Food Day. That’s right—set down the microwave dinner, drop the processed plastic-wrapped pseudo-sustenance, and savor something pulled from the ground or plucked from a tree. Nature’s original grocery store doesn’t come with a barcode, my friends. Might be a good day to trade your bag of chips for a beet salad. Or not. Free will, after all.
And speaking of real, it’s Juneteenth—a celebration of emancipation, a slow-burning fuse of freedom that finally lit the corners of Texas in 1865, two and a half years after the Emancipation Proclamation. It’s a reminder that liberty doesn’t always come on schedule, and justice often travels by back roads. But it arrives. Sometimes by wagon. Sometimes by song. Sometimes in a dream you didn't know you had.
It’s also World Sauntering Day, so don’t just rush to the next thing today—saunter. Take the long route. Feel the breeze on your arms. Notice the way the sunlight scatters across the hood of an old pickup truck or dances across the wings of a dragonfly. A wise man once said that the fastest way to miss life is to try to speed through it.
Meanwhile, in the cartoon cosmos, it’s National Garfield the Cat Day. That lasagna-loving, Monday-hating feline with the sarcasm sharper than a porcupine in a pencil factory made his debut today back in 1978. A little orange ball of id who reminds us that gluttony and laziness, when paired with wit, can be strangely endearing.
And for those with a more... refined palate, it’s National Dry Martini Day. James Bond may have made it sexy, but Hemingway made it dangerous. Whether shaken or stirred, that little glass holds centuries of rebellion, elegance, and regrettable decisions.
Now, on the birthday beat:
Blaise Pascal was born on this day in 1623—mathematician, physicist, philosopher. Gave us the Pascal Triangle and pondered God, gambling, and the geometry of the soul.
Fast forward a few centuries to Lou Gehrig—born 1903. The Iron Horse. His streak, 2,130 games he played in a row for the New York Yankees, still echoes in dugouts and dreams, a monument to endurance and grace under pressure.
We also raise a toast to novelist Salman Rushdie—a man who wrote truth so boldly it put a target on his back. That kind of courage can’t be bought in a bookstore.
And then we get to the sirens of stage and sound: Kathleen Turner, that husky voice with more heat than a summer sidewalk; from Romancing the Stone to Californication, Kathleen still steams my showers. Ann Wilson of Heart, who made rock feel like poetry with a Viking battle cry behind it; and the ever-rhythmic Paula Abdul, who choreographed the '80s and taught a whole generation how to dance through their heartbreaks. And judged her way into our hearts with American Idol. Not bad for a former Los Angeles Lakers cheerleader.
Don’t forget Dirk Nowitzki, too—born this day in 1978. A German giant with a soft jump shot, proving that sometimes grace comes in seven-foot packages.
So maybe today, as you step outside—whether you saunter, stroll, or skip—tip your hat to the past, your heart to the present, and your drink—dry or dirty—to the future.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone listening that life is full of peculiar pairings. Sauntering and justice. Lasagna and literature. Lou Gehrig and Dirk Nowitzki. June 19th has some dynamic duos for sure.
Stay awesome, otters.
SONG BY PATRICK THIEL AND HALEY E RYDELL
It's National Watch Day, so go ahead and take a glance at that little circle wrapped around your wrist. Or maybe you’re old school like old man Torkelson and still carrying a pocket watch. Or heck, maybe you ditched it all together, letting the sun and your body tell you when it's time to rise and rest.
Time, folks — that old invisible river we all float down. Ever notice how a watch doesn’t actually measure time? It just counts it. Seconds, minutes, hours — tiny marching soldiers tick-tick-ticking into the void. But what is time really?
The Diné — the Navajo — teach that time isn’t linear, but circular. The seasons, the sun’s arc, the migration of birds and beasts. Everything comes back around. So if you messed up yesterday, don’t fret — the wheel turns, and you get another shot at it. That’s not just optimism, otters, nope, that’s physics in a blanket of spirit.
You see, even our big-brained modern science, with all its decimals and dark matter, can't quite pin time down. Einstein said time is relative. You sit with a beautiful woman for five minutes — it feels like five seconds. You sit on a hot stove for five seconds — feels like five hours. That's relativity. That's math wrapped in emotion.
And the Bible? Oh, the Good Book’s got time all over it. Ecclesiastes tells us there's a time for everything — a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time to tear down, and a time to build up. But here’s the rub: you don’t get to choose when those moments come. You just gotta be awake when they do. Be present — not just punctual.
Then there’s the sky — our oldest clock. The moon waxes and wanes, the stars trace their constellations. The ancient Egyptians aligned the pyramids with the heavens, and the Mayans carved calendars from stone. These people didn’t need a Swatch. They had the cosmos.
But then came the wristwatch — the great Swiss rebellion of timekeeping! Compact, mechanical poetry ticking on your arm. And then the Swatch Watch, baby. 1983 — suddenly time wasn’t just measured, it was stylish. Neon pinks, zebra stripes, plastic bands like candy on your wrist. It said: “Time doesn’t have to be heavy. It can dance, too.”
The Swatch ushered in time management to a class of people the Rolex left behind in decimal points and dollar signs.
And now? Well, now time lives in your pocket. And on your wrist again, too. The iPhone — once just a phone — has become the pocket watch of the 21st century, a portal to every calendar, alarm, countdown, and notification the modern soul can handle.
But we didn't stop there. Enter the Apple Watch — part Swiss precision, part Silicon Valley ambition. It's not just a timepiece, it's a heart monitor, weather forecaster, sleep tracker, text messenger, and — oh yeah — it still tells time. In a way, it’s like we circled back to the sundial, except now it lights up, taps you on the wrist, and asks if you’ve checked in or punched your personal clock of time today.
Still, I gotta confess — sometimes time is heavy. You feel it when you watch your kid take their first steps, or when you sit at the edge of a loved one’s hospital bed. It presses down on you, reminds you how fleeting this whole gig is. And that weight — it’s not a punishment. It’s a gift. Because the weight of time gives meaning to everything it touches.
So today, otters, whether you're rocking a vintage Rolex, a Swatch straight outta ‘84, or a tiny supercomputer strapped to your wrist buzzing about your next meeting — remember: you’re not wearing time. You’re living it.
This is Spiess in the Morning reminding myself and anyone else listening, don’t just count your seconds. Make your seconds count.
Spiess in the Morning here, sending out festive energy and cheerful vibes to the universe from the heart of the North Star State, the place where the loons outnumber the voters—and today, my spirit’s taken a little ride on the Scrambler and is sauntering into the fairgrounds of of 10,000 lakes and 10 million calories.
Now, if you’ve ever bit into a deep-fried Snickers bar at sunset while the scent of hay and hot grease wafts past your nose, well… you’ve experienced a little piece of heaven. Or maybe it was just the butter deep fried in butter sauce and dipped in butter.
You see, there’s something uniquely basic and fundamental, almost ecclesiastical, about fair food. The Minnesotans, those hearty descendants of Norwegians, Swedes, and other stoic souls, have somehow turned gluttony into grace. On those fairgrounds in Wadena, indulgence is not a sin—it’s a sacrament. Corn dogs, cheese curds, funnel cakes, pork chops on a stick—it’s like the entire food pyramid got spun into a Tilt-a-Whirl and the results were... delicious.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent time fasting, meditating, trying to free my chakras and flatten my ego. I’ve spent more time as a whole foods nutjob in life than a consuming carnivore, but otters, there’s something about biting into a hot mini donut, straight from the paper bag, cinnamon sugar clinging to your fingertips, that feels just as spiritual as any moment I’ve had near on a snow-capped peak near Mount Shasta.
It’s a reminder that joy doesn’t always come in kale smoothies and digital detoxes. Sometimes it shows up in a basket of deep-fried pickles shared with strangers under a string of lights and a blue June sky.
And the thing is, Minnesota doesn’t pretend fair food is good for you. There's no quinoa on a stick. No kombucha-tini. Nope. This is food that sings from the belly and bellows from the heart. It’s dairy barns and beer gardens, where every calorie is a story, every bite a brief, buttery memory of summer slipping through your fingers.
Is it healthy? Probably not. Is it necessary? Absolutely.
Because we don’t just eat to fuel the body. Sometimes, we eat to celebrate the absurd, the whimsical, the nostalgic. We eat to remember the summers when time stretched like melted cheese on a hot slice of pizza.
So here’s to the deep fried Twinkies of the world—overflowing, unmanageable, irrationally generous. Here's to the miracle that is hot dish on a stick. Here's to every Minnesotan who stood in line with sunburned noses and sticky fingers just to chase that one golden bite of experience and nostalgia wrapped and deep fried together.
From the tilt of the earth to the turn of the fryer basket, may we all find our way to that glorious, grease-stained moment of bliss.
You’re listening to Spiess in the Morning. Stay silly out there Otters, and if you're lucky enough to find a walleye taco in your hand, don't ask questions—just eat it and enjoy the ride.
SONG BY TADASHI KEIJI
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Kate’s Korner Antiques & Collectables is NOW OPEN in Elizabeth! Located across the street from the liquor store on Hwy 59, Kate’s Korner is a must stop and see. If you see the flags flapping in the wind, she’s open and ready to serve your nostalgic needs.
Paul’s Farm Fresh Eggs - $3/dozen - call or text 218-205-7779 (Elizabeth Area)
Abbie’s Farm Fresh Eggs - $9 for 30 eggs - washed or unwashed - call or text 320-349-0942
The Shoreline Bowling Alley in Battle Lake has open bowling All Summer Long. Call 218-864-5265 for more info or stop by 505 N Lake Ave, Battle Lake, MN.
The Bookmobile stops across from the Parkers Prairie Post Office every other Wednesday throughout the year. You can find the Bookmobile there from 3 pm to 4 pm. Not only does the Bookmobile have books, movies & magazines to check out, but the Bookmobile and member libraries also offer a wide variety of electronic resources including Ebooks, downloadable audiobooks, streaming movies, TV and music, and a wide variety of educational databases and distance learning resources.
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