
My hometown of Benson—with about 3,500 mostly-Scandinavian souls—sprouted up along the Great Northern railway line. It’s a western Minnesota prairie town, but just a few miles to the north a glacial moraine shapes rolling terrain. My fascination with landscapes—in literature, in art, and as a traveler—began in that place.
In 1967, I left the prairie to attend Augsburg College on the West Bank of the Mississippi, in Minneapolis. Then I met my husband-to-be, Dick Cain, in 1974. We resided with his three children in White Bear Lake, a suburb of St. Paul.
We moved to Minnesota’s Northwoods, near Grand Rapids, in 1978. We slept in tents and cooked in an 8’x 8’ shack while we built our small log home. Dick and I lived there for almost thirty years, hauling water and heating with wood. We left for one year, in 1988-89, because we wanted to live (not just travel) abroad. So we got jobs teaching English in Madrid, Spain. Then we set out to explore areas of France, Denmark, Norway, and Ireland.
Ten years after our return from Europe, the first signs of Dick’s memory loss began to appear. In 2007, we moved to Grand Rapids. In 2013, I had to move him to an assisted living facility. He died on October 30, 2015.