Notebook
February 7th, 2025 by Gary Osberg

February 3, 1959, will forever be known as “The Day the Music Died.” Rock and roll pioneers Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and “The Big Bopper” (J.P Richardson), were killed when their plane, headed for Moorhead, Minnesota, crashed into a frozen cornfield near Clear Lake, Iowa, just six miles from take-off. Holly chartered the flight after his tour bus broke down and fellow musician Carl Bunch ended up in the hospital with severe frostbite. Don McLean referred to that day as “The Day the Music Died” in his 1971 song, “American Pie”.

The plane was a Beechcraft Bonanza with room for 3 passengers and the pilot Roger Peterson. Richardson was suffering from the flu, so Waylon Jennings gave up his seat on the plane to Richardson.  Another member of the band, Tommy Allsup, lost his seat to Ritchie Valens on a coin toss.

Fans of the late, great musicians call the plane crash “the first and greatest tragedy rock and roll has ever suffered.” Over the years several memorials have been created in their honor, including a steel guitar and three records bearing the three performers’ names, a giant pair of Holly’s famous Wayfarer-style glasses marking the crash site, and Don McLean’s hit song “American Pie.”

Fifteen-year-old Bobby Vee and his Fargo band, The Shadows, were called upon to fill in for Buddy Holly at the Moorhead engagement because he knew all the words to Buddy’s songs.  Bobby Vee went on to become a music legend of his own.  He had 238 Hot 100 chart hits. The Vee family live in the St. Joseph area and for many years they performed as the headline act for the annual Joetown Rocks fundraiser here in St. Joseph.  You may want to come to St. Joe this July to celebrate being alive.

“One kind word can warm three winter months.” Japanese Proverb

January 31st, 2025 by Gary Osberg

“Happiness is a warm puppy”. Charles Schulz.     “Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” is written into the Constitution of the United States of America.

In the February 27, 2006, issue of The New Yorker there was an article on pursuing happiness. It turns out that by nature we have been hardwired to emphasize the negative. Survival depended on being wary. The curious and unwary could be eaten by bears or tigers. “Call no man happy until he is dead” was a popular Greek saying. According to many psychologists, once we are out of poverty, the most important determinant of happiness is our “set point”, our natural level of happiness, which is largely a matter of genetics.

Of course, we have no control over our set point. Those of you who have more than one child know that children do seem to be wired differently. Same parents, same conditions and yet siblings can be so different. However, we can control our attitude. “As a Man Thinketh” by James Allen made quite the impact on me. We also can decide how much volunteer work we are willing to do.

Ready for the secret to happiness? Here it is: “Happiness is equal to your set point S, plus your life conditions C, plus a bit of volunteer work, V.  Happiness = S + C + V”. If you want a copy of the article, let me know.

“Happiness is hard to put into words. It’s also harder to source, much more mysterious than anger or sorrow, which come to me promptly, whenever I summon them, and remain long after I’ve begged them to leave.” David Sedaris

January 24th, 2025 by Gary Osberg

58 years have passed since a telegram arrived at our studio on the third floor of Wimmer Hall on the campus of St. John’s University, authorizing KSJR to go on the air.  The first KSJR radio broadcast was in the evening of January 22, 1967. The first line uttered by engineer Dan Rieder was, “Heed my words, Earth People. You have 10 minutes to live.” The first classical music selection aired was a pre-recorded concert by the Cleveland Orchestra. What began as Minnesota Education Radio became Minnesota Public Radio on January 1, 1975. 

Since then, MPR has grown to a network of 46 radio stations reaching more than 800,000 weekly listeners. MPR has earned nearly 1,000 broadcasting and journalism awards, including seven George Foster Peabody Awards, six Robert F. Kennedy Journalism awards, a prestigious Alfred I duPont Columbia University Gold Baton Award and a Grammy Award. Programs and podcasts produced by Minnesota Public Radio’s parent company American Public Media, reach over 17 million listeners each week. 

This is one version of how Bill Kling was selected to lead the creation of what has become the largest network of public radio stations in the United States. It was written by our first Collegeville Studio intern, Ellen Newkirk.

“The Saint John’s University monks chose Bill Kling to help start their public radio station, Minnesota Education Radio, because of his “bright mind” – literally. SJU graduate Marty Mahowald tells the story of Bill Kling’s selection as the station’s first leader as told by his professor Fr. Gunther Rolfson. In the 1960s, Saint John’s had a mandatory lights-out policy at 10pm when the faculty residents would flip a switch that turned off all power on each floor of the residence halls. However, one evening, during a walk around campus , Fr. Gunther noticed a light illuminating from a single room in Benet Hall.

The next day, Fr. Gunther used a master key to enter the room and found a system rigged to keep the power on after the switch was flipped each night. The room belonged to Bill Kling. Eventually, the monks decided Kling’s innovative and determined spirit was just what they needed for their new endeavor. According to Mahowald, Fr. Gunther said: “We knew that starting a new campus radio station would present struggles, budget challenges and many other issues to deal with and it would take someone with a lot of moxie to lead it through to success.” It turned out to be a very good decision; Kling served as president of Minnesota Public Radio until 2010 and created one of the greatest public radio station networks in the country.”  Ellen Newkirk, CSB, Class of 2013.

“You build on failure. You use it as a stepping-stone. Close the door on the past.  You don’t try to forget the mistake, but you don’t dwell on it. You don’t let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, or any of your space.”  Johnny Cash    

January 17th, 2025 by Gary Osberg

It has been 20 years since my dad died. We held a “Celebration of Life” for him at Gethsemane Lutheran Church in Upsala. Dad had prepared many funeral plans over the years, due in part to his decision to donate his body to the University of Minnesota Medical School. Also, in 1969 his doctors had told him that he had throat cancer and would probably only live another 5 years. He lived 36 years after the removal of his voice box. The soloist at the service asked if dad was an Elvis Presley fan, since all the songs that he choose were on an Elvis album, Evening Prayer, “He Touched Me”,” Amazing Grace” and “The Lord’s Prayer”.

I was at home the Monday evening after the service when the phone rang. I answered it with a somewhat weary voice and the woman on the other end said: “We are looking for the family of Gary Osberg”. Expecting a sales pitch, I responded: “This is Gary Osberg!”. There was a long pause, and I heard laughter in the background. I thought to myself, ‘I am not in the mood for this’. The lady came back on with: “This is the strangest phone call I have ever made. We have a floral arrangement for the funeral of Gary Osberg”. In a loud voice I proclaimed: “I AM ALIVE, IT WAS MY DAD THAT DIED! Where are you calling from?” The floral shop was in Foley, a city not even close to Upsala. She told me that she had checked with all the funeral homes and churches in her area and had no luck. I was dating a woman who lived near Clearwater at the time, so I had them deliver the flowers to Karen, and they were beautiful.

“I walked for miles at night along the beach, searching endlessly for someone wonderful who would step out of the darkness and change my life. It never crossed my mind that the person would be me.” Anna Quindlen

January 10th, 2025 by Gary Osberg

Many years ago, my Dad went to work as a dishwasher at Little Sisters of the Poor in St. Paul. His boss was a woman named Maxine. They became real good friends. Her family also referred to him as Grandpa Bill. Maxine and Dad never lived together, but they ended up living a few floors apart in the same high-rise apartment building next to St. Paul Ramsey Hospital on University Avenue. When Maxine died, I attended the funeral, and Dad surprised me by asking me to sing “The Lord’s Prayer” and “Amazing Grace” during the service. There was no piano, so I had to sing “a Capella”. It was ok.

One of the pieces of furniture that Dad brought with him when he moved into my house in Upsala was a corner unit with glass shelves and a glass door that had belonged to Maxine. Her family had given it to him. After Dad passed in 2005, I set out to clean his room.

One of the items in the corner cabinet was a small green egg with silver decorations and a seam abound the middle. I was curious to see what treasure was inside, but when I pried it open, expecting to find a Russian doll, what came out were ashes! “OH MY GOD! IT WAS MAXINE!”. I spilled a little in my haste to put it back together and I quickly put it back into the curio.

A few years later my daughter bought the house from me. Every summer Kerry and her mother would have a garage sale. It happened again to Marcia while she was helping my daughter gather items for the garage sale.  After that I decided to dig a hole next to my Dad’s grave at Gethsemane Church in Upsala and bury the “egg” before there was nothing left of Maxine. 

“Tell me, what else should I have done?  Doesn’t everything die at last and too soon?  Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”  From The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

January 3rd, 2025 by Gary Osberg

I consider myself in recovery. I quit drinking ‘Old Grand Dad’ in 1976. I am also a “recovering entrepreneur”. I couldn’t work for the man, I had to be the man.

Lastly, I am also a “recovering jerk”. It is the last one that is the hardest to deal with. I have been known to grow very impatient with lines. Lottery ticket sales drive me nuts. I love the self-serve gas pumps with swipe card capability. To help me deal with these defects of character, I have adopted a morning reading ritual.

This one I stole from Dear Abby. It is usually published in the local newspaper every New Years Day.

JUST FOR TODAY: I will live through this day only. I will not brood about yesterday or obsess about tomorrow. I will not set far-reaching goals or try to overcome all my problems at once. I know that I can do something for 24 hours that would overwhelm me if I had to keep it up for a lifetime.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will be happy. I will not dwell on thoughts that depress me. If my mind fills with clouds, I will chase them away and fill it with sunshine.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will accept what is. I will face reality. I will correct those things I can correct and accept those I cannot.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will improve my mind. I will read something that requires effort, thought and concentration. I will not be a mental loafer.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will make a conscious effort to be agreeable. I will be kind and courteous to those who cross my path, and I’ll not speak ill of others. I will improve my appearance, speak softly, and not interrupt when someone else is talking.
JUST FOR TODAY, I will refrain from improving anybody but myself.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will do something positive to improve my health. If I’m a smoker, I’ll quit. If I am over-weight, I will eat healthfully, if only just for today. And not only that, but I will also get off the couch and take a brisk walk, even if it’s only around the block.
JUST FOR TODAY: I will gather the courage to do what is right and take responsibility for my own actions.

“Great results cannot be achieved at once, we must be satisfied in life as walk, step by step.”  Samuel Smiles

December 27th, 2024 by Gary Osberg

In 1976 I gave up Old Grand Dad 80 proof for Lent. I gutted it out and in April of 1977 I went on a retreat at the Cenacle Retreat House in Wayzata, Minnesota. Sister Ten-Tie Saniel presented “Effective Living” a seminar based on John Boyle’s “Omega Seminar”. I learned the following affirmations. Affirmations are stating future goals in the present tense. They have made a big difference in my life.

The six basic affirmations are as follows:

  1. “I am loved; therefore, I like myself, unconditionally as I was created.” (Repeat five times)
  2. “I never devalue myself with destructive self-criticism.” (Envision yourself doing something that you are very proud of)
  3. I see love in others and have warm regard for all persons at all times. (Envision yourself doing something nice for somebody else)
  4. “I am easily able to relax and with every affirmation I become physically and mentally healthier.” (Envision yourself doing something relaxing)
  5. “I am completely self-determined; inner directed by the spirit of love and allow others the same privilege.” (Repeat five times)
  6. “I accept total responsibility for the consequences of my actions and reactions.” (Repeat five times)
  7. You may add more affirmations which focus on specific areas of your life such as “I especially love and enjoy weighing 170 pounds”.

I recite these affirmations every morning after I go through my stack of readings which helps me to stay sober.   If you would like a copy of “Gary’s Koping Kit”, just ask.

“Let others lead small live, but not you. Let others argue over small things, but not you. Let others cry over small hurts, but not you.

Let others leave their futures in someone else’s hands, but not you.”   Jim Rohn

December 20th, 2024 by Gary Osberg

Five days until Christmas. I have my shopping done and now I simply must pace myself on the cookies and candy.


Children love Christmas, as well they should. As with most families, some years, Christmas gifts were easy to come by and some years the budget would not allow for much. The Christmas of 1956 was a memorable one for me. My mother had to move from our home in St. Louis Park due to Dad’s inability to handle booze. Ma’s mother, Grandma Laura Ramlo, drove her 1952 Chevy from Upsala to 1620 Colorado Avenue South in St. Louis Park, put Dad in the back seat and drove him to the VA Hospital in south Minneapolis. She told them, “He is a veteran, he is a drunk and he is your problem, not mine”.  Then she took us all back to Upsala to live in the apartment above Ramlo Grocery in Upsala.

I am not sure what the reason was for our ending up living in an apartment in Little Falls in December. It had something to do with getting financial aid. That Christmas, Santa brought us six big Tonka Toy 18-wheel trucks. There was a cattle truck, an oil tanker, a freight truck and three more. This was a perfect gift for a family with five boys. I was 13 years old and brother Bill was 10. We played with them non-stop. I am not sure what my sister Kathie got from Santa that year.

For many years I had the impression that they were from some sort of social agency that served the poor. It turned out that “Santa” was Dewey Johnson, a classmate of my mother’s from Upsala High School class of ’37. Dewey’s cousin was one of the founders of Tonka Toys. Dewey had already passed on before I learned the “rest of the story”, so I never did have a chance to thank him.

Perhaps you know of a family that has come upon hard times, and they could use a “Secret Santa” this year.  

“We are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas time”. Laura Ingalls Wilder    

December 13th, 2024 by Gary Osberg

In 2000, I purchased a house from the estate of my mother-in-law Irene Rudie.  I bought the house “lock, stock and barrel”.  One of the many treasures that I found was a diary that Irene had started on March 1, 1927.  Once I started reading it, it was hard to put down. She started the diary when her husband John and her were moving from a rented house in South Elmdale, to a forty-acre farm northeast of Upsala.  John had remodeled a lumberjack’s shack which they would have to live in until he finished building the barn and the house.  The cows got priority over Irene and the children. 

At that time, they had three children. The youngest was Jacky who was less than two years old.  The journal started with Irene getting the car stuck in the mud on the way to their new farm.  She had to walk the last two miles with Virgil and Theresa walking beside her while she carried the baby.

One of the stories in the diary dealt with a cow getting mired in a mud pit. She and John had to leave the children on their own in the shack while the two of them worked long into the night to free the cow.  The fear of loss was evident. Every nickel was important. Their abundance was in their capacity to work.

A few years later there was a single entry in the journal for the day.  “Bessy got stuck in the mud pit again today.  John shot her.”

Tomorrow morning you will have an opportunity to enjoy a very special Christmas concert at Ritsche Auditorium on the campus of St. Cloud State University.  The St. Cloud Symphony Orchestra will be performing “Children’s Holiday Concert” at 10am.  Another “Holiday Concert” performance will be at 3 in the afternoon You can purchase your tickets at stcloudsymphony.com or at the door. I hope to see you there.

“Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”  Leonard Cohen

December 6th, 2024 by Gary Osberg

It looks like the ice on the pond is not going to be very safe for a while.  Do not go out there unless you are with a buddy and be sure to check the ice often.  When I was a youth in Upsala, we used to drag race our cars across the ice on Cedar Lake west of Upsala. To my knowledge, no one ever went through the ice. We got away with a lot of stupid things as kids.  One winter we made a game of standing on the hood from an old DeSoto, using it as a giant snowboard as we were towed in the ditch behind a car.  Dumb and dumber.

After a heavy snow we would party by driving into the Burtrum Hills with our old cars,  just to try and get stuck.  These were not SUVs, we had a 1954 and a 1952 Chevy. We simply packed a lot of boys in the cars with snow shovels in the trunk and went for it.  My sister Kathie and one of my classmates both ended up in casts after a toboggan run down a steep hill in the Burtrum Hills.

Try to not let your young children read these Friday notes.

Great River Chorale is presenting “The Gift of Winter”, tonight at Church of Saint Joseph in downtown St. Joseph at 7:30.  Sunday’s performance is at 4pm in Bethlehem Lutheran Church in St. Cloud.  Tickets can be purchased at www.greatriverchorale.org  or at the door.  I hope to see you there on Sunday.  I do have two pair of tickets for tonight’s performance.  Simply respond to this email and I will make sure your tickets are at the will call desk tonight. 

“It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that things are difficult.”   Seneca