Crabtree's Kitchen & the Man with the Big Wooden Spoon

I thought I'd post a piece I wrote last year for a class. It's a fun memory from growing up in Minnesota and I hope it reminds you of good things from where you grew up.

It happened every spring. Our burnt-orange Buick Regal lumbered east on highway 36 through historic Stillwater. Judging by the urgency of our travel, Crabtree’s Kitchen held a curious magnetic power over Mom and Dad (or at least the Buick). The road wound through the St. Croix River Valley like the knick-knack shelves lining the interior walls of our destination. Crabtree’s rested at the edge of a thirty foot ravine. A corrugated culvert hosted a current of winter slough as it flushed along far below. We stepped across the threshold, my dad holding back the screen door before letting it smack behind him.
The lobby was always full. Softly worn floor boards gave testimony to this fact with the occasional creak and sag. The walls bore testimony too. Pictures of Governor Perpich, Harmon Killebrew, and Ruth Kozlak hung in a seamless collage alongside newspaper reviews, and trusted fishing maps. But Joel, Heidi and I had seen it all before. With a half hour car ride under our belts and a half hour wait to eat, the inevitable set in. Dad saw it in our eyes immediately and bent over smirking. “Do you guys remember what I said about the man with the big wooden spoon?”
We did. It was our understanding that all sit-down restaurants employed the services of a barrel-chested brute wielding an overlarge wooden spoon [used] for curbing childish conduct. We giggled. I glanced back at the kitchen door half expecting it to swing wide belching forth Crabtree’s number one spoon goon.
We never left disappointed. We feasted on lefse, potato sausage and scrambled eggs. More than the food, décor, and kitchen discipline lore, I savored the way my parents loved being there. And the way my parents loved being there with us. Past the screen door, I ran to the ledge overlooking the culvert’s spring stream. Listening to the commingled song of wind in leaves and water on rock, I gazed at the hardy house. Back in the Buick until next spring.

Peter Erickson, 5/25/2007

Lament and Hope: How Two Songs Hit Me

I won't go into the details out of respect for privacy, but I'll say as much; two events this past week got me thinking hard on how much stock I really put in my belief in a God who is good. There are times when it comes so easy to affirm that He is good, that I admittedly take it for granted.

And then there are times when things happen. While these two events did not happen to me personally, they did happen to people that I care very deeply about. They happened to people that I love. I absolutely cannot know or comprehend the deeper grief and pain that my friends are experiencing- I just want that to be clear, because the last thing I would want this post to be seen as is trite or anything negative like that. Rather, I just felt compelled to echo how the power of song and lyric when in line with God's word can pack the most beautiful punch of encouragement. Even if the touch lasts only for the 3 or 4 minutes of the tune's duration, the inexpressible peace lingers longer.

So, here are the two songs that have helped. Interestingly enough they are both by the same artist, and they follow one another in succession on the same album. The first I found to portray the times when things are not going well, and yet in some way hope is still expressed, much like David wrote to God in the Psalms in the midst of life and death peril. I read somewhere that this song was written about the late Johnny Cash at a point when he had given up and decided to end his life (he didn't suceed, and the lyrics speak of being given a "second life").

The second song I feel, characterizes hope. It starts out somewhat quiet and small, yet builds with each verse to a beautiful proclamation in the chorus. I guess that's all I'll say about them.

Links are below for the lyrics, and if you have the means, I'd recommend downloading the tracks soon. If not for now, perhaps for a day when some hope is exactly what you need. If you don't have the means I will gladly gift them to you via iTunes. You've probably heard them or of them before, but nontheless...

The songs are Mat Kearney's Won't Back Down, and Breathe In Breathe Out.


"When all is lost, All is left to gain."

My Pledge to You

I was using the facilities at DFW after a non-eventful flight back from Minneapolis earlier this evening, when I noticed the gentleman standing next to me relieving himself was simultaneously talking on his cell phone. I know, it's the late '00's and I am totally privy to the fact that this happens rather often. It's the conversation he was having that especially troubled me.

You see, when I heard him say, "Well, I just wanted to call and wish you a happy birthday..."

Dear heavens. It's not like he got an important call at an inopportune time...no, he made a call, a happy-birthday call nonetheless while nature was calling. Too much calling going on for me.

I just wanted to take the opportunity to promise anyone who reads this, that if I'm ever on the phone with you, you have my word that I won't be in a public restroom. That of course includes leaving voicemails as well.


Texting, however is another story...