Rise and Shine Otters, Spiess in the Morning broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next to the swamp in the heart of the North Star State.
It’s July 8, and today we’re riding the flavor trail. Sweet, frozen, fizzy… with just enough funk to keep things interesting.
The sun’s crawling over the swamp like a cat that’s been out all night, and if you listen close, you can hear the cows stirring, the raspberries ripening, and maybe—just maybe—a six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon reference echoing somewhere in the distance.
Let’s start with what’s on the table—because July 8 is National Raspberry Day. That bright little berry that stains your fingertips and surprises your tongue with a mix of tart and sweet. It’s the jazz solo of the fruit world—unexpected, unrepeatable, and totally worth the stain on your shirt. Pick ’em fresh if you can. Life’s too short for store-bought regrets.
And to go with that burst of red: Freezer Pop Day. You know the ones. Long plastic sleeves filled with sugary color, best snipped with kitchen scissors and slurped under the sun. You don’t eat them so much as survive them. They’re sticky, they’re cold, they cut the inside of your mouth if you’re too eager—but they taste like childhood. Like bike rides and garden hoses and summers that lasted forever.
Now, if you’re listening from the farm—or you’re just moo-ved by animal appreciation—today’s also Cow Appreciation Day. Salute the slow, sacred ruminators who keep the world turning. Cows give us milk, cheese, ice cream, and the occasional wisdom that comes from standing still and chewing thoughtfully. You want to know peace? Watch a cow blink.
Let’s tip our hats to the fine folks born on this flavorful day:
Kevin Bacon, born July 8, 1958. Actor, musician, cultural connective tissue. The man’s got his own unit of measurement. You’re probably no more than two or three degrees from him, even up here in Otters. From Footloose to Mystic River, he’s got that rare quality: everyman cool. The kind of guy who’d dance in a grain silo or jam in your garage, then disappear before you could say thank you.
Beck, the genre-bending bard of the weird and wonderful. Born in 1970, Beck's music is like a sonic thrift store—funk next to folk, hip-hop beside heartbreak. A guy who rhymed “cellophane” with “angel hair” and made it sound like gospel. If Kevin Bacon is connective tissue, Beck is the electric current running through it.
Jeffrey Tambor, the actor with a face made for both tragedy and farce. From the awkward bravado of Arrested Development to the soulful depth of Transparent, Tambor's a reminder that comedy and pain often share a dressing room.
And for anyone looking for a Tambor deep cut - the Larry Sanders Shows will check many laughter and love boxes my beautiful otters. Looks like I just planned my night in real time otters.
Wolfgang Puck, the Austrian-born chef who made gourmet pizza a thing and turned celebrity chefs into rock stars. He brought the kitchen out of the back room and onto the red carpet. He’s the reason you can say “arugula” without getting strange looks.
John Pemberton, the 19th-century pharmacist who cooked up Coca-Cola in his backyard—originally loaded with cocaine and served as a tonic for “nervous afflictions.” What started as a medicinal mixer became the most iconic beverage on Earth. Pemberton might not have foreseen a billion vending machines and Olympic sponsorships—but he sure stirred something carbonated into our culture.
Joseph Chamberlain, born 1836. British politician, empire builder, and walking contradiction. A reformer and imperialist, a man who spoke for the worker while expanding the empire. History’s like that—never simple. Just human.
And Nelson Rockefeller, born this day in 1908. Governor of New York. Vice President of the United States. Heir to oil money with a penchant for modern art and bipartisan handshakes.
So here we are, July 8. A day of flavors—some sweet, some strange. A day where berries meet billionaires, freezer pops meet funk, and cows meet the culture that quietly depends on them.
Maybe today you dance barefoot in the grass like Kevin Bacon. Or mix styles like Beck. Or say thank you to a cow. Or invent something in your garage that’ll one day end up in soda machines and history books.
This is Spiess in the Morning reminding myself and anyone else listening that summer’s meant for messes. Raspberry juice on your chin. Sticky fingers from a freezer pop. And the chance—just maybe—to be somebody’s connection to something great.
Keep on grazing Otters.
It’s your friendly broadcaster podcaster Spiess in the Morning, coming at you live from the spectacular studios next to the swamp with a public service announcement wrapped in pasture wisdom: Today is National Cow Appreciation Day.
The humble cow. The mighty moo-makers. Grass-grazers. Milk-machines of modernity. These gentle giants have been a part of our world longer than written history. And today, we tip our hats and give a little love to the bovine brethren who’ve fed our bellies, fertilized our fields, and wandered their way through myths, religions, and morning cartoons alike.
Let’s start with the obvious — Holy Cow! You’ve probably exclaimed it a time or two. A baseball goes out of the park? Holy Cow! You drop your phone in the toilet? Holy Cow! But did you know it’s more than just an exclamation? It’s a whisper of reverence reaching back centuries. In Hinduism, the cow is sacred — a symbol of nonviolence, nourishment, and divine abundance. Not worshiped as a god, but respected as a giver of life. You don’t eat a cow in India — you honor it, the way you’d honor your own mother.
Consider what a cow takes in from the earth and what it gives back. Take in grass and water - give back milk, cheese, butter, ghee and to some extent beef and leather too.
And speaking of celestial respect, let’s take a ride through the stars. In astrotheology — that intersection of mythology, astronomy, and the divine — we find Taurus the Bull in the Zodiac, a constellation that has stood its ground in the spring skies since Babylonian times. Taurus is strength. Fertility. Earthbound power. The bull's horns point toward the heavens, a reminder that sometimes the sacred comes with hooves and muscle.
Flip open the Bible and what do you find? Well, for one — the infamous Golden Calf. When Moses took a little too long on the mountain, the Israelites didn’t ask for a golden chariot or sword — they asked for a golden cow. Why? Because cows meant provision. Stability. Although that golden calf became a false idol, it does shows the deep-rooted human impulse to honor the cow as a life-giver.
And it’s not just scripture — Native American legends are filled with tales of sacred buffalo and spirit cows. The Lakota tell of the White Buffalo Calf Woman, who brought the sacred pipe, songs, and prayers — a symbol of harmony between nature and mankind. Not a cow of consumption, but of communion.
Then, of course, we have cows in pop culture — those udderly unforgettable icons of childhood and advertising. Elsie the Cow. The laughing cow on cheese wedges. Clarabelle from Mickey Mouse. Heck, Chick-fil-A turned misspelled signs held by cartoon cows into a whole brand strategy. And don’t forget Ferdinand the Bull — the gentle soul who preferred sniffing flowers to fighting matadors. A true pacifist in a world of red capes and raging egos.
Even our language gives cows a comfy stall in the lexicon. We “milk” situations. We call ideas “cash cows.” And when we’re baffled beyond belief — yep — we still say “Holy Cow!” with the awe of a child who’s just seen magic, or maybe a 2,000-pound animal floating across the moon.
So on this Cow Appreciation Day, maybe pause for a moment before you pass that pasture. Offer a nod. A moo. A silent thanks. Because whether they’re in the heavens, in scripture, in myth, or on your cereal box, cows remind us of something ancient and grounding: to be gentle, to be strong, and to give without asking too much in return.
Or stream some Tommy Boy while being sprayed by a hose and singing “I’m a maniac” while flash-dancing.
This is Spiess in the Morning, broadcasting from a land where the sacred wears spots and the divine sometimes smells like hay.
Stay grateful out there, Otters. And give a little moo of thanks today.
Spiess in the Morning here, and today we’re talking about something small. Something shiny. Something... deadly.
Not a villain from a summer blockbuster. Not a new TikTok trend. No, I’m talkin’ about a bug. A beetle. More specifically — the Emerald Ash Borer.
Now, on the surface, it sounds kind of beautiful, doesn’t it? Emerald. That gemstone green. Almost mythical. You’d expect to find it on a wizard’s ring or tucked inside some elvish treasure hoard. But don't be fooled. This one doesn’t grant wishes or guard secrets. It destroys what we love and eats what it loves.
And it’s making its way, slowly but surely, into Otter Tail and its neighboring cousin Counties here in Minnesota.
The Emerald Ash Borer — or EAB if you want to sound like a hipster teenager or real-life scientist at a town hall — is an invasive insect originally from Asia. It hitched a ride to North America, likely in some wooden shipping material, and first showed up near Detroit back in 2002. Ever since then, it's been creeping across the Midwest like a slow-motion plague. And now it’s knocking on the door of our lakes and forests.
Here’s what it does: the adult beetle lays its eggs on ash trees. When those eggs hatch, the larvae burrow in — deep under the bark — and chew through the tree’s inner lifelines. It cuts off water and nutrients. Slowly, invisibly, the tree dies from the inside out.
Like heartbreak in wood.
Ash trees, especially the black ash, are sacred in many Indigenous traditions. The Ojibwe people have long believed that humans were created from the ash tree. In stories passed down through generations, the tree isn't just part of the landscape — it's part of us. To lose ash trees isn’t just losing shade or lumber. It’s losing part of the story of the land.
In many Native communities, black ash is woven into baskets — not just as craft, but as tradition. Identity. Culture. And when the Emerald Ash Borer moves in, it threatens more than ecosystems. It threatens legacy.
And let’s not forget how ash trees line our streets and yards like green guardians. In towns across Minnesota — including Pelican Rapids, Perham, Wadena, Fergus Falls — ash trees make up 20 to 40 percent of the urban canopy. These aren’t just trees. They’re cooling shade in July. They’re bird homes. They’re the backdrop to lemonade stands and lawn chairs. Losing them means replanting not just wood, but memory.
Now, we take this bug seriously — not because we’re panicking. But because we understand. We’ve seen what happened in Michigan, in Ohio, in Illinois. Thousands of trees, dead. Cities scrambling to remove them before they collapse on power lines or playgrounds. Landscapes changed for a generation.
And the solutions aren’t easy. There are treatments, sure — injections that can protect some trees. But they’re costly, labor-intensive, and not a silver bullet. Most towns prepare for the inevitable: removal, replacement, education. A whole reimagining of what our neighborhoods will look like, years down the line.
And the myths? Well, some folks whisper that maybe nature sends these things as warnings — harbingers to remind us that every ecosystem is more fragile than it appears. A shining, jewel-colored insect becomes the symbol of how quickly balance can tip.
So today, on this quiet Minnesota morning, if you’ve got an ash tree in your yard — give it a little nod. Maybe even a hug. Because that tree is more than cellulose. It’s part of something bigger — a memory, a myth, a shade in the heat, a silent partner in the rhythm of life.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone else listening that sometimes the smallest things — a beetle, a tree, a story — carry the biggest meaning.
Stay rooted, Otters. And remember, it’s the little things that matter... especially the little green ones.
Spiess in the Morning here, and I hope your coffee’s strong and your hammock’s hanging steady. Because today, I want to talk about one of those small-town gems that remind you what summer feels like — the kind of place where the lemonade’s cold, the music’s live, and the streets smell like kettle corn and fresh-cut grass.
I’m talkin’ about Pelican Fest, happening this weekend — July 10th through the 12th — down in Pelican Rapids, Minnesota.
Now, if you’ve never been, Pelican Rapids is the kind of town that feels like it was built on a Norman Rockwell napkin. Tucked into Otter Tail County, surrounded by more lakes than you can shake a tackle box at, and guarded — quite literally — by a 15-foot-tall concrete pelican named Pelican Pete. That bird's been welcoming folks into town since the Eisenhower years, and he’s still standing proud.
Pelican Fest, though? That’s the soul of the town. Three days of music, community, and the kind of wholesome fun that makes you believe — even for just a weekend — that the world can still slow down and smile.
Now, I’ve got some memories tucked away from past years. I remember watching the parade roll down North Broadway — kids scrambling for candy, beauty queens on hay bales, a high school marching band that played with more heart than harmony. The air so thick with small-town pride you could slice it with a butter knife.
I remember stumbling into the arts and crafts fair and buying a hand-painted pelican gourd from a woman who swore the bird visited her dreams. I still have that thing on a shelf, somewhere between my Michael Crichton paperbacks and a chunk of driftwood I picked up from the banks of Lake Superior.
And the music... oh, the music. Local bands playing under that soft Minnesota twilight — folk, country, polka, even a little classic rock — echoing off the grain silos and into the hearts of anyone within earshot. There’s something about a summer bandstand, mosquitoes dancing in the stage lights, and couples slow-dancing in flip-flops that just makes life feel real.
But more than the events, it’s the people. It’s the conversations you have with strangers who suddenly feel like old friends. It’s watching grandkids hold hands with grandparents, teenagers eyeing each other across the firework crowd, and someone handing you a taco with all the fixin's and a smile that says, “You’re home, even if you’re not from here.”
Pelican Fest isn’t just a party — it’s a pulse. A heartbeat that reminds us that joy doesn’t need to be big, flashy, or expensive. Sometimes it’s just a small town, a giant bird statue, a shared laugh, and the knowledge that the best memories usually start with “Remember that time at Pelican Fest...”
So if you’re anywhere near the land of 10,000 lakes this weekend, head down to Pelican Rapids. Wave at Pelican Pete. Catch a parade. Dance to a cover of Sweet Caroline under the stars.
This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone else listening that sometimes the best places aren’t on the map. They’re in the heart.
Otter and Out.
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Pelican Fest July 10-12 - Two fun filled days full of Parades, turkey barbeques, bingo, and many other fun activities throughout the day and ending with a street dance each night.
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 (The Greater Elizabeth Area)
Abbie’s Farm Fresh Eggs - $9 for 30 eggs - washed or unwashed - call or text 320-349-0942 (The Greater Morris Area)
IBC Totes for sale - Endless uses for these totes from firewood storage to rainwater catcher to stacking two for an outdoor shower. Pick up encouraged, delivery available. Food grade are $100 each and non-food grade are $65 each. Call 218-639-1116
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 has 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.
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.
The Bookmobile stops in Elizabeth, only this stop isn’t at the community center or the public park, rather it’s a private house. Next stop is July 3 in Elizabeth and it’s a block north of the C-Store on the gravel road, or 206 N Pelican Street, for you GPS folk.
Check out more Bookmobile towns by clicking here
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Happy Monday Everyone! Feel free to like, share and or comment!
Please tune in tomorrow for more local lakes area tunes, totally tubular tales, and some small-town smiles.
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