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Midtown Phillips Neighborhood News

Midtown Phillips Neighborhood News

Around the Neighborhood: Hopeful Messages

Around the Neighborhood: Hopeful Messages

By BEN HEATH

“Who Dyed?” “What is next to Which?” “Who”'s on First?” *

“Who Dyed?” “What is next to Which?” “Who”'s on First?” *

By Sue Hunter Wier Uncle Peter first? Joan Wardwell second?, all at Hodsdon”'s at Bloomington and Lake Farm next to Layman”'s In the late 19-teens and early 1920s several newspaper articles claimed that “Uncle” Peter Wardell (sometimes Wardwell or Waddell) was the second (or even the first) person buried in Minneapolis Pioneers and Soldiers Memorial Cemetery. He was buried, so the stories go, either under what is now the bus stop at Cedar Avenue and Lake Street or in the far southeastern corner of the cemetery at Lake Street and 21st Avenue. Supposedly, Uncle Peter was an employee of Martin Layman who had moved to Minnesota with members of the Layman family in 1853. There”'s only one problem””“Uncle” Peter didn”'t exist. The confusion about this imaginary man is understandable, though. There is a person with a similar name who was among the earliest burials in the cemetery. Her name was Joan Robbins Wardwell. Mrs. Wardwell died from cancer in 1858, supposedly the first recorded case of cancer in Minneapolis. Although one of her granddaughters claimed that Mrs. Wardwell was the second person buried in the cemetery, that isn”'t true either””there were at least two dozen people buried in the cemetery before she was. What is true is that her husband, George Wardwell, worked for Martin Layman, the cemetery”'s original owner. George Wardwell surveyed the section of Layman”'s farmland that became the first municipal cemetery on the west side of the river. In return, he was given two burial plots. (more…)

Fish Tacos by La Sirena Gorda, “The Fat Mermaid.”

Fish Tacos by  La Sirena Gorda, “The Fat Mermaid.”

By Courtney Algeo The truth is this: I went to the Midtown Global Market on a rainy Tuesday evening to review Pacific Islander Cuisine. We went around 6:00 p.m.”“prime dinnertime”“but only one person was working at the restaurant, cooking and dishing up all of the made to order food herself. She looked like she was working extremely hard, and the food she was making smelled delicious. Unfortunately, I suffer from what some call the hanger. Hanger is a portmanteau of the words “hungry” and “angry”, that signifies the emotion contained in the moment when your desire for food turns into a hot, burning rage. Or, perhaps it”'s just a case of crippling impatience. To shield those near me from my hanger, I simply turned around in the aisle at Midtown Global Market and ordered some delightful fish tacos from La Sirena Gorda, which means (hilariously) “the fat mermaid.” Although this was the first time a name had been associated with the restaurant, I had heard a lot about the fish tacos before I stumbled into this dining experience. Whenever tacos are brought up in conversation (which, if you know me, is a lot) friends and strangers alike always ask if I”'ve had the fish tacos at the Midtown Global Market. Now, I can grin slightly, rub my belly, lift my chin and say to them, “Why yes. Yes I have.” The tacos come in orders of two or four. I would recommend always getting four. This is not because they are small, by any means, but rather the tacos come, for the most part, unassembled. If you order four tacos, you get a healthy portion of taco innards, and then four soft tortilla shells. I”'m not sure why they do this, but I was glad to be served that way, because I was in control of how full I filled my tacos, and that made me feel like an empowered consumer. If you order two tacos, I assume you will get a smaller pile of fish bits, and only two tortillas. You will also feel strangely [...]

“Hats Off” as Honors are Given

“Hats Off” as Honors are Given

May 19, 2011, marked the perfect ending to a perfect week for Minneapolis Pioneers and Soldiers Memorial Cemetery””the kind of week that comes around once every 83 years. It was a week in which we celebrated the history of Minneapolis Pioneers and Soldiers Memorial (formerly Layman”'s) Cemetery while making a little history of our own. May is National Preservation Month, a time when preservationists and their supporters call attention to efforts to save the nation”'s historic treasures. One of those national treasures is right here in Phillips Community Grand Opening of the Restored Main Gate “Hinges” on contributions On Tuesday, May 17th, about 60 people attended the unveiling of Phase I of the restoration of the cemetery”'s gates and the 13 sections of the fence that were in the worst condition. The weather was glorious, the tulips were in full bloom, and even the dandelions looked festive. A lime-green dune buggy buzzed around one of the vacant lots across from the Lake Street gates where guests gathered to listen to speakers. A gentleman walking down Lake Street removed his hat and held it over his heart as he passed by the cemetery gates. Council Member Gary Schiff made the opening remarks. He was followed by Winnie Layman Fernstrom, great-great-granddaughter of the cemetery”'s original owners; Britta Bloomberg from the State Historic Preservation Office; Chad Larsen, Chair of the Heritage Preservation Commission; Joyce Wisdom, Executive Director of the Lake Street Business Council; and me, as Chair of Friends of the Cemetery. The message was clear: this project wouldn”'t have been possible without the hard work and generous support of many individuals and agencies. The State Historic Preservation Office and the City of Minneapolis have provided the lion”'s share of funding, but the value of contributions from those who have adopted pickets can not be overstated. Funders want to know, and rightly so, [...]

SEARCHING ”“ a Serial Novelle CHAPTER 12: The Raid

By Patrick Cabello Hansel People running in all directions. Shouting. Horns. Babies screaming. Right in front of him, an old man tripped on the ice and fell face down, splitting open his upper lip and breaking his nose. Blood poured out upon his worn Vikings sweater and onto the fresh snow. What is going on? Angel thought. Did someone get shot? He began to walk towards the uproar that was centered at Bloomington and Lake. Three or four SUV”'s with dark tinted windows were blocking the intersection. Cops were putting up barricades. A mother holding a baby and pulling a toddler along by the sleeve of his jumpsuit yelled at him: “!La Migra! ¡Corre! ¡Corre!”. And so he ran, away from the immigration raid, from the chaos and noise. He ran smack into the back of a girl in a sky blue coat, knocking both of them to the ground. As he struggled to pick himself up, he said “I”'m so sorry” and held his hand out to help her. He noticed there was a large rip in his pants, and the skin was red and stinging, as if someone had slapped him. She turned around and said, “That”'s OK, I was”¦” and stopped. It was Luz, her face red, bits of snow clinging to the fake fur of her hood. “Angel”¦what are doing here?” “Luz, oh my God, it”'s good to see you. I”'ve missed you so much”. “I missed you too.” For a moment””you know that moment if you”'ve loved and been loved””the street disappeared, the people running, the loudspeakers of the police ordering people to be calm. It was as if all power was concentrated in their eyes, as if they were breathing, thinking, believing just with their eyes: young, hungry, free. “We”'ve got to get out of here!” Luz said, and began to cry. “I think they got Uncle Jaime”. Angel touched her shoulder gently, and said, “Let”'s go.” They ran down an alley, slipping on [...]

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