Let It Go, June Carter Cash, Oscar the Otter and New Chapters

Spiess in the Morning for Monday June 23, 2025.

Rise and Shine Otters, Spiess in the Morning broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next to the swamp from the land where the loons outnumber the voters…It’s June 23rd, and if the universe had a guestbook, this would be one of those pages written in pink ink with a few pecan crumbs between the folds. A day that says, "Hey, it's okay to be a little messy… and a little magical too."

Today is Let It Go Day, which might sound like a Disney anthem—and yes, I’m sure a few of you parents out there still have the lingering echo of Elsa’s high note reverberating through your frontal lobe. But beyond the show tunes and princess dresses, there’s a deeper truth here. Let It Go Day asks us to shed our emotional barnacles, cut loose from those grudges, old flames, and childhood piano recital flubs still haunting our sleep. You can't soar with eagles if you're clinging to the chicken coop, folks.

Also on today’s menu, we’ve got National Pink Day—a gentle reminder that strength doesn’t always come dressed in camouflage. Sometimes, it shows up soft, resilient, and the color of a summer sunrise over the Kuskokwim. Pink isn’t just for tutus or flamingos. It’s for wildflowers growing through sidewalk cracks. It’s the blush of forgiveness. It's the color of survival and sass.

And speaking of survival, National Porridge Day is warming hearts and bellies—probably more celebrated in the UK, but here in Minnesota? We’ve got our own hearty take on it. Oats, maple syrup, maybe a dash of whiskey if you're aiming for enlightenment before lunch. Food for the body and the soul. Goldilocks was onto something—getting things just right is a spiritual pursuit.

And don't forget—Pecan Sandies Day. That little crisp cookie that proves you don’t need to be flashy to be delightful. A lot like some folks in town—humble, sweet, with a bit of a crunch.

Now, on this date in history, 2016 brought us the Brexit vote, where the United Kingdom decided to make an exit, stage right, from the European Union. Talk about letting it go. Some say it was sovereignty, others say it was isolation dressed as independence. Either way, it was a shift. The kind that changes dinner table conversations and global currency rates.

Back in 1969, IBM announced the System/3, a computer for smaller businesses. A time when data fit in rooms instead of pockets. Who knew we were planting the seeds for a future where we’d be scrolling instead of strolling?

And let’s not forget the first United States Olympic trials for women, held on this day in 1928. The ladies finally got their shot to show the world that grace, grit, and gold medals aren't just reserved for men.

Now, we’ve got a bouquet of birthdays to celebrate today…

The incomparable Frances McDormand—America’s gravel-voiced, barefaced truth-teller. She’s not one for Hollywood sparkle, more like a cosmic sandblaster for the soul. Whether she’s solving murders in Minnesota or living out of a van in the American West, Frances brings a quiet thunder to every role.

Selma Blair was also born on this day. A woman whose real-life courage has eclipsed even her best roles. Diagnosed with MS and still fighting with elegance and fire, she reminds us that vulnerability is strength’s next of kin.

Randy Jackson—yes, that’s gonna be a no from me, dawg—the musician turned judge who introduced millions to pitch and swagger on “American Idol.” The man’s been behind a bass and behind the scenes longer than most contestants have been alive.

And we would be remiss not to honor June Carter Cash. The woman who tamed Johnny, walked the line with him, and gave country music its velvet spine. June was wild mountain honey—sweet, strong, and just a bit dangerous when the night got long. Her voice still echoes in Appalachian valleys and in any woman who dares to love a complicated man.

So here we are, June 23rd. A day that asks us to wear our pink with pride, to eat the cookie without counting the calories, to savor the porridge while it’s hot, and most of all… to let go. Of what hurts, of what no longer serves, and of what we thought we had to carry alone.

Because Otters, the solstice just passed, and the sun’s hanging high. The muskrats are multiplying. The nights are still short, but time, she marches. Sometimes with rhythm, sometimes with a limp. But she never looks back.

Or as C.S. Lewis simply said “Onward and Upward!”

This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding myself and anyone else listening about a little advice from the ancients and a wink from the present—if you’ve been waiting to start over, today just might be your day. Let it go.

It’s your loyal creekside philosopher Spiess in the Morning, coming at you with a mug of black coffee and something on my mind. Something a little… ottery.

Now I know we’ve got our share of rugged individualists up here — folks who could build a cabin with one hand while tracking a mule deer with the other. But even the toughest among us started small. Vulnerable. Curious. And sometimes, we got our first dose of philosophy not from Plato or Kierkegaard… but from a children’s book.

For me, that book was Oscar the Otter, written by Nathaniel Benchley and illustrated with this dreamy, woodsy charm that made you want to crawl right inside the riverbank and stay there.

Oscar wasn’t just any otter. He was a young guy with a taste for independence — a little furball with ambition. In the story, Oscar gets tired of playing close to home. He wants more. More river. More fish. More freedom. So what does he do? He heads upstream. Alone.

Now as a kid, that hit me hard. Because I was Oscar. Always asking questions, always wandering off. My mom used to say I didn’t run — I drifted, like I was looking for something invisible that might show up around the next corner.

Oscar’s journey was exciting at first. He dodges logs, sees new sights, feels the rush of solo exploration. But then — like it always does — nature has a way of humbling us. He loses his way. Gets scared. And in that long swim back, cold and tired, he realizes something simple but profound: going it alone isn’t always the mark of bravery. Sometimes the real courage lies in admitting you still need your folks… your place… your home.

That stuck with me.

I’ve got a tattered copy of that book right here, shelved between Michael Crichton’s State of Fear and a grease & coffee stained book of Minnesota birds. Been with me since my days in St. Paul and Sunburg. Stayed with me through the years and I even did a 400-level college presentation on the otterly awesome book at North Dakota State University my senior year.

Some pages warped from coffee spills and campfire smoke. But I keep it close, like a touchstone. I’ve even bought a backup copy in case the original decides to disintegrate one day.

Oscar didn’t just teach me about otters. He taught me about me. About how our craving for freedom sometimes blinds us to the invisible bonds that keep us grounded — the mother’s call, the father’s nudge, the comfort of the known shore.

But here’s the kicker — and this is where it really gets me, even now — after Oscar makes it home, after he’s welcomed back and warmed up, he doesn’t stop being curious. He still plays. Still explores. But he does it with a little more wisdom. A little more heart.

Work hard. Play hard. But don’t forget where you come from. Don’t forget who’ll swim out to meet you when the current gets too strong.

So maybe, and-or-even perhaps, the best kind of independence isn’t about swimming away. It’s about knowing when to swim back.

This is Spiess in the Morning, reminding you that we all go upstream sometimes — chasing dreams, testing waters, trying to figure out who we are. But when the world gets wild and the banks get steep… it’s okay to come home.

And hey — if you’ve got a minute today, look up an old picture book. Maybe even Oscar the Otter. You might be surprised how much wisdom can float by in thirty-two pages and a little watercolor fur.

Spiess in the Morning, broadcasting and podcasting from the spectacular studios next to the swamp, where the mink roam free, and the mosquitoes have a way of showing you who you really are.

Today, I want to talk about something that’s been hanging around the edges of my consciousness like mist over Lake Sallie — letting go.

Now, I know. That's a loaded phrase. "Let it go" — it sounds like something you'd hear from a yoga instructor with perfect posture and a coffee habit. Or maybe it echoes in your head like a line from that animated earworm anthem that shall not be named.

But I'm not talking about a catchy song. I’m talking about the raw, soul-stretching act of release. Letting go of your ego. Your possessions. Your job. Your relationship. Your identity. Whatever barnacles are clinging to your hull, slowing your drift toward the unknown.

See, we’re raised in a world that worships accumulation. Get more. Be more. Own more. Climb the ladder — any ladder — corporate, social, spiritual, romantic. But sometimes, growth isn’t up, it’s out. It’s inward. It’s away.

Letting go isn’t weakness. It’s the first act of trust. It’s saying, “I don’t need this to be me anymore.”

I let go of a lot when I came to Otter Tail County. Traded concrete and chaos for swans and silence. Gave up the idea that I needed to be a certain kind of man to matter. Let go of guilt. Some of it, anyway. Still working on the rest.

Ego? That one’s a bear. We cling to it like a lifeboat. But it’s more like a lead balloon. Buddha said it. Christ lived it. And every Lakota elder I’ve ever spoken to has whispered it between lines — the self is not something to build up, but to empty out. So that something real can rush in.

Same goes for possessions. They tell a story, sure — heirlooms, guitars, vinyl records, that coffee mug with a chipped lip from a road trip in ’87. But they don’t tell your story. Not really. They’re echoes. Shells. And sometimes, you have to put them down to feel the weight you've been dragging.

Jobs? Relationships? Oof. Those are the big ones. But here’s the kicker — sometimes letting go doesn’t mean giving up. It means freeing up. Freeing yourself for what’s next. For who you’re becoming. Not everyone is meant to walk the whole trail with you. And that’s not betrayal. That’s nature.

Like a tree dropping its leaves. Like ice melting into spring.

Letting go is not erasure. It’s transformation.

So if you’re reading this, or hearing this, and you're clenching your fists around something that no longer serves you — a dream deferred, a title, a grudge, a person — I offer this quiet invitation:

Loosen your grip.

You might be surprised by what your hands are ready to catch once they’re empty.

From the OtterTalk media network, where the coffee’s hot, the hearts are open, and the northern lights are always just a heartbreak away...

This is your favorite swamp philosopher and soul spelunker, Spiess in the Morning, coming to you live from the vortex of the North Star State. The clouds are hanging low like an old dog’s ears today, and the world feels… expectant. You ever get that feeling? Like life just pulled the curtain back and said, ‘Hey, buddy, Act Two is about to begin.’

Now I don’t know if it’s the solstice light that lingers too long or just the quiet ticking of time up here, but I’ve been thinking a lot about chapters lately. Not the kind you find in books—though those are holy in their own right—but life chapters. You know, the ones you don’t get to title until after they’re over.

Some of you out there might be closing a chapter. Maybe a job ended, a love story wrapped up, or a kid packed up and drove down the highway to find their own sunrise. Or maybe, just maybe, the page turned and you didn't even notice until you looked up and realized the scenery had changed.

But here’s the thing about new chapters: they don’t always announce themselves with trumpets and ticker tape. Sometimes they begin with a whisper. A sudden craving for Italian food. A new song that moves something in your chest. A hobby that grabs your attention like a long-lost friend saying, ‘Hey, where you been?’

Relationships shift. Work transforms. Hobbies return like migrating birds. Even the spine of that book on your nightstand starts to look a little more worn-in, like it’s finally ready to be read, and you—you're finally ready to listen.

See, starting the next chapter doesn’t always mean setting fire to the last one. Sometimes it’s about weaving the past into a better pattern. You take what you’ve learned, what you’ve lost, what you’ve loved—and you bring it with you. You don’t erase your story, you just grow it.

So maybe this morning, you lace up your boots and go a different direction on that trail. Maybe you dust off that guitar, say hello to someone you once knew, or simply sit still long enough to hear what your soul’s been whispering while you’ve been scrolling.

New chapters don’t need permission to start, folks. They just need presence.

So here’s to turning the page, whether it's a fresh career, a new romance, or just cracking open that book you’ve been meaning to read since last fall. The plot thickens, the characters evolve, and you, dear listener—you’re the protagonist of this great Minnesota epic.

Stay curious. Stay open. And remember—every story worth telling has a few surprising turns. Otter and Out.

The OtterTalk media network – Doing our best to keep the small town smiles alive, fish tales told and the coffee percolating.

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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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Please tune in tomorrow for more local lakes area tunes, totally tubular tales, and some small-town smiles.

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