My wife opened the door at CashWise foods and deposited her Saturday morning grocery purchase in the car, and asked “there are a couple of ladies in their selling poppies, should I go back and get some?” My answer was “of course” and then my mind slipped back to my young kid days when two of the ladies I knew from my small town would have a table set up in front of our grocery store and they were selling poppies. Out of curiosity I asked Mrs. Rice one day “what are these flowers for?” She answered with a very somber and stern look, “well Rodney (everyone called me Rodney when they wanted to get my attention), these are poppies, and we sell them because we are remembering our heroes.”
So why poppies? The tradition of selling poppies, particularly the red poppy, is deeply rooted in remembrance of war, and the men and women who served, especially World War I. It is a way to raise funds for veterans and their organizations. The practice began with organizations like the Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) and the American Legion Auxiliary distributing poppies in exchange for donations. Today, these organizations, along with others, continue to distribute poppies, with proceeds going to support veterans’ needs.
The red poppy is common on the many battle fields in Europe. Lt. Col John McCrae is given credit for bringing the red poppy to light in his poem, In Flander’s Field:
In Flanders fields, the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
There is also a Memorial Day tradition of releasing poppy flowers from a ship to commemorate those who died at sea during the WW I and WW II. In Minot, flower petals are released from the Veterans Memorial Walking bridge located on 8th Street NW. During the ceremony, Taps are played to honor the dead. For many years my son played Taps at this ceremony. The reverence is certainly amplified by the usually calm and quiet of the early morning as the sound of the bugle rings down the riverbanks.
There is also a Memorial Day ceremony at Rosehill Cemetery. Last year Col. Benjamin Jensen was the speaker and as over 1300 headstones of Veterans are decorated.

A Tribute To My Friend
I am often asked “where did you learn to write, Rod?” And I will answer with a smile, “Well I haven’t learned to write, but there’s still time, right?” One would assume that a journalism major, which I was in college, is the same as a writer, you know someone who can sit down and tell a story on paper. However, this is not always true. There is a certain flair to telling a story through the pages of a book, or even a paper, and my friend, Marlan Hvinden, had that flair.
Marlan and I grew up in the same town, Maddock, North Dakota. Marlan lived in a big house on the corner kind of across from the school. I would have to walk by the Hvindens on my way to and from school each day. As it is with every small town, you kind of know pretty much everyone in town, even though they may be a bit older than you. Marlan was about 15 years older than I was, but he and my older brother worked together at the local newspaper shop helping to produce the Maddock Standard.
I really got to know Marlan when we both attended the University of North Dakota, where Marlan had enrolled to get his journalism degree. He was one of those older than average students which were common in those days as many Vietnam vets were enrolled at UND after their tours of Vietnam were over.
After graduation Marlan would move to Garrison and eventually become the editor of the McClean County Independent. Fast forward a few years when Marlan and a couple of other writers started Dakota Country. That is when I realized the difference between Marlan, the journalist, and Marlan the writer.
His stories in Dakota Country kept you engaged, all the way to the end. In reading what Marlan wrote, because he was my friend from college, I quickly learned how to tell a story, not just write a story. Marlan was great on going beyond the facts and combining life happenings.
Another fast forward would bring you to several of Marlan’s projects after he (sort of) retired. Who would have thought that Marlan would write a historical book entitled “Justice Was Swift…Tales of the Old West?” But he did. I forgot to mention that he met and married the perfect wife, Nancy, who is also a great writer. Together they formed Hvinden Publishing. Perhaps my favorite book, one that Marlan signed, and that I will cherish forever is “The Heroes Next Door- Stories about Benson County WW II veterans.”
Every story in the book is truly special. Ordinary folks, that were heroes, and now many of them have since passed away, but because of Marlan and Nancy Hvinden, their stories did not.
If I am a writer and not just a journalist it is because of Marlan Hvinden. Through the books he wrote he mentored me, even though he didn’t know it. I did have a couple of chances to visit with Marlan this past year. He had moved into an assisted living center in Grand Forks. We shared stories and he signed a few of his books for me. He even wrote something personal in the front of the books, humorous memories about his time in Maddock.
Marlan Hvinden left us on May 15th. The world lost a great journalist, and storyteller. Left behind though, are his books. Thanks Marlan…your passion for telling a story is certainly preserved in the books you wrote.

Best Kept Secrets
Make sure to put a trip to the Peace Garden on your to-do list this summer. It’s a great day trip, and the perfect picnic stop for your family.

Today’s Chuckle
Beware of politicians with a lot of drive. They’re constantly shifting positions.