Mary Lee Hagert


A look back at the JFK years: A time of tears

I’m a political junkie. I follow political horse races with the same enthusiasm that others follow their favorite sports teams.
The seeds were planted decades ago. I remember my parents joking that they cancelled each other out the first time they voted in a national election.  Mom preferred Adlai Stevenson, while Dad liked Ike.


Sunrise, sunset

It’s a glorious autumn day; the sun is shining down on leaves that have turned lemon yellow, dusky orange and mahogany red.
As I pause every so often to gaze out a window, a few lines from a Rodgers and Hammerstein song run through my head:
“I’m as restless as a willow in a windstorm, I’m as jumpy as puppet on a string, ... I’m as busy as a spider spinning daydreams, I’m as giddy as a baby on a swing.”


A wild time on the High Plains

Writer Mary Lee Hagert’s son Kevin stands atop a craggy butte in majestic Theodore Roosevelt National Park. (photos by Mary Lee Hagert/Review)

I’ve just returned from the Wild West, and I’m not referring to the re-enactment of 1890s gunslingers shooting up Main Street in Deadwood, S.D.
No, I mean the new Wild West, the one that’s cropped up more than a century after the days when drifters got into quick-draw duels on the Dakota Territory’s High Plains.
A vacation in the Dakotas wasn’t on my family’s radar a month ago. But after discovering all the campsites were reserved at our top choice -- Rocky Mountain National Park -- we weren’t sure where to go.


Will he still be singing in August?

On one of our rare warm evenings this spring, I hustled out of the Oakdale Target store with hopes of getting home in time to squeeze in a bike ride before nightfall.
It’s an unusually quiet store, and the parking lot was nearly deserted as I settled in behind the steering wheel. Just as I was reaching for the car door, I heard a faint bird song off in the distance.


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