vol 01/issue 02/09’09 THE

PEG
LEG
UPD
ATE

COSTNER AND
DANCES:
TWENTY YEARS
LATER
 Features
Pg 3 . . . . . . . . . . . . .Writer’s Block
Pg 3 . . . . . . . . . . . PARK(ing) Day
Pg 4 . . . . . . . . . Innovation Village
Pg 4 . . . . . . Bootleg(s) of the Week
Pg 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Un Viajecito
Pg 6 . . . . . . . Dances and Costner
Pg 8 . . . . . . . . . . . . . Patrick Hicks
Pg 10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Local Food
Pg 10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Local Suds
Pg 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . Oktoberfest
The Peg Leg Update is published under a
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Unported license.
Basically, feel free to reprint anything you see
here, but attribute it please.
<http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/>
thepeglegupdate@gmail.com
thepeglegupdate.wordpress.com
twitter.com/thepeglegupdate
1234567890 PLU 09’09
I was a lover / before this war.
W elcome to Issue 2. I’m glad you made it back. A lot of scribbling squirrels have been busy
the past few weeks to bring you this edition of The Peg Leg Update. Fitting their output
into this issue proved to be quite a task, but we made it. Please forgive our cramped style towards
the end. We’ll try and do better next time.
The authors’ words that fill the proceeding nine pages struck me as very, very opinionated
when I first read them.
But even after the editing process - strained eyes, loud music, cups upon cups of MJB -
glossed each of the stories over, I found each of them remaining unscathed. Each scribe in this
issue has something to say, regardless of his or her background.
And speaking of “her,” The PLU would like to introduce Kate Wegehaupt, our first female
voice of these hallowed pages. She managed to overcome what seemed to be a major case of
writer’s block to pen an article on, well...just look at the next page.
Stu Ensz visited a nice little party going on in the Union parking lot this past week. A shot
and thoughts on that situation rests on page 3 as well.
Then the opinions start to flow. ps>flux toured the new innovation apartments on the
northeast side of Brookings, and he shares his vision of the future on page 4. Sitting comfortably
below that column is the next installment of Bootleg(s) of the Week, with Mike Roe once again
gushing over Umphrey’s McGee. Big surprise. I guess that’s what Jake’s fingers can do to you.
Kaleb Kroger traveled down to warmer climates this past summer. The guest writer was nice
enough to send along his thoughts of sunny expeditions south of the border, and he encourages
more people to leave the Midwest for a bit. I know it hurts, but sometimes you gotta do it.
If you come to South Dakota, they will write about you. Or so it is with the main subject of
Jay Albertson’s article, Kevin Costner. Jay drove up to Aberdeen and attended the South Dakota
Film Festival recently, and you can find his synopsis starting on page 6.
The next two pages are dedicated mostly to a transcript of a conversation I had with the
good Patrick Hicks. We talked at Monks in Sioux Falls, and I think I managed to weave my way
through the entire chat without making a fool of myself. I stuttered, sweat a bunch and forgot half
the shit I was going to ask him, but I think I escaped with quality stuff.
An unsolicited article critiquing our food supply arrived in my inbox about a week ago.
Wyatt Urlacher’s writing is terrific, and I immediately knew we should publish his thoughts. They
appear on page 10. The subject is especially pertinent in our community - with Chicoine being on
Monsanto’s board, attempts at a food co-op taking off and the area’s history of farming traditions,
among other considerations - and I plan on writing a supplementary article on this subject in the
future. If anyone else out there in reader land would like to voice their opinion on this very touchy
topic, feel free.
Issue 2 ends with beer, as it should be. ps>flux had a dinner date in the Lucky Dog over in
Volga, and his raves sit at the bottom of pages 10 and 11. The literary caboose this time around
is once again Ross Bell with his reviews of four different liquid attempts at sharing the joy of
Oktoberfest. Thanks for the free beer Roose. I owe you one.
About that header here on this introduction: More than 100,000 Iraqi, at least 10,000 Af-
ghan civilians and over 5,000 American soldiers have quit breathing over the past few years. Less
importantly, we’ve spent nearly $1 trillion [borrowed] dollars sending our friends, family members
and neighbors across the world. If anyone can justifiably explain these things, please let me know.
You can have half the third issue to yourself.
Bullets constantly fly in those regions we so often forget. Please keep that in mind when you
lie safely in your bed tonight. Oh, and enjoy The Peg Leg Update.
Mitch LeClair
Editor
thepeglegupdate@gmail.com
Writer’s Block
by Kate Wegehaupt

I am not an author. Good. We got that out

there. Now we can both go on our way: me,
not worrying about who is reading my venture
into the written word, and you not judging too
much. I am simply dabbling, a doodler, if you
will. Think of the side margins of your biology
notes (or Composition 101, for those of you
who actually liked science classes), and recall
those squiggles, hearts, or whatever you drew
when the combination of sleep deprivation and
boring classes caused your mind to stray. That’s
what I’m doing, but my squiggles have taken
on a life of their own, forming words.
Like the aforementioned habit, writing is
something that, for me, feels natural. However,
since the opportunity presented itself to
publish my rambles, I’m finding myself facing
the dreaded “Writer’s Block.” There’s nothing
worse than sitting in front of my laptop, tap-
ping on my keyboard, waiting for something to
pop up on the screen. What happened to all of
the ideas scratched onto my Bio notes? Why
do they suddenly seem ridiculous, intimidating,
or scrambled up inside my head? The actual
notes make more sense. But my conclusion,
at least, is clear: the writer’s block is caused
by either too great of expectations, lack of
something to write about or simple intimida-
tion.
Well, I’m a first time writer for a fledgling
magazine, in a town that people think is in
West Dakota (no really, my friend Jen once
convinced some Californians that she was from
West, not South, Dakota. They didn’t even
second-guess her), so it isn’t like I’m expected
to write the next Great American Novel. It’s
a 600-word feature. And I’m definitely not
lacking something to write about. If John
Steinbeck, author of The Grapes of Wrath, can
write an entire chapter on a turtle crossing a
highway, I can do this.
Therefore, I conclude that I’m simply
going through a period of self-doubt. Will
anyone read this article? Will you just skip
right over it, onto the beer reviews? Well, if
you’ve made it this far, there’s still hope for
me. So it’s a simple matter of building up my
self-esteem and just finding a topic.
I was sitting in Cottonwood the other day,
trying to come up with some interesting article
ideas. My creative writing teacher says you can
write about anything, so my idea list, naturally,
was extensive, covering all sorts of world-
impacting issues. A few highlights include:
• What is the appeal of arriving late? Why
can’t we just make a fashionably early entrance?
Am I really that nerdy if I show up on time?
• Why do people enter their pets into those
pet-race/obstacle course contests? Do they
think their pets have a complex? Are they
bored?
• Why are corner booths so much less
intimidating?
• What’s the fascination with asking for
people’s telephone numbers? I mean, really?
Okay, maybe not material that everybody
is interested in. If they crop up in future
editions of the Peg Leg, though, you’ll know
I’m still stuck in writing limbo.
So all I need to be is courageous. The first
big step is just going for it. It, meaning, put-
ting something down on a page and sending
it off, like a little kid marching off to her first
day of kindergarten. It’s rough. But, instead of
crying and wanting to go home, I can be like
the kindergartener everyone wants to be, the
one who eats paint without fear, unashamedly
swings on the monkey-bars in a dress and
brings her pet lizard in for show-and-tell.
Writing, anyway, is just another form of
telling, leading to communication. We share
our own thoughts, formed from personal expe-
riences, events, ideas and curiosities. We read
the thoughts of others, learning how they view
the world. Sylvia Plath said, “everything in life
is writable about if you have the outgoing guts
to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The
worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” So
here’s to being brave and trying new things.
I’m writing. Outside of my biology notes.
What are you doing?

PARK(ing) Day
by Stu Ensz

A s part of a worldwide effort to raise

awareness of lost green space in
metropolitan areas, the South Dakota State
University Landscape Architecture Club
transformed three parking spaces in a main
SDSU campus parking lot last Friday, Sept.
18, into a public access park for the day. photo by Stu Ensz
Well, at least part of it.
The club assembled the park early Friday morning with plants donated by Lowe’s and mulch and sod purchased by the club. Throughout the day,
students read the newspaper on a park bench, waited for rides, played bean bag toss and soaked up the wonderful September sun. Two classes were
also held in the park. At 2 p.m., university officials asked the club to disassemble the park.
PARK(ing) Day began in 2005 throughout San Francisco in an effort to examine how urban space is being used and to make public parks out
of metered parking spaces. The PARK(ing) spot was the effort of a club made of 15 students. The club’s president Shannon Fischer was happy with
their park and the favorable reactions from students who used the park.
Visit www.parkingday.org for history of the event, more information on the cause and concerns of urban development, and to see pictures of
parking spaces from around the world that were transformed into parks, cafes and lounges for a day.

thepeglegupdate.wordpress.com 1234567890
Innovation Village: Hit and Miss, Progressively Speaking
by ps>flux

M any Brookings residents, especially

members of the young or developing
professional class, are by now familiar with the
new Innovation Village apartment complex,
located north of the blues and east of McCrory
Gardens. The complex is adjacent to currently
undeveloped property owned by the University,
which is slated for development into SDSU’s
new Innovation Campus.
As a young progressive, any project with
the title “Innovation” catches my attention,
but I was curious: how innovative are these
developments on the northeast side of town?
At best, one would like to imagine an effort
toward building a more sustainable, intellectual
community, but from initial examinations,
Innovation Village appears to be just one more,
albeit classily outfitted, people-box to keep
up with Brookings’s ever-expanding housing
necessities.
The apartment complex features a wide
variety of rooms; rent varies in price from
$
740 - $925 a month. There are 13 different
styles of one bedroom apartments for prospec-
tive renters to choose from, as well as a variety
of two bedroom units. The units feel very
spacious, and the impression stays consistent
through the entirety of the complex. Wide
halls and tall doorways work in an overall
architectural scheme to make the apartment
feel as large inside as possible. The carpet is
plush and the decks and siding are smooth
composite, artificial wood that will never
decay or splinter. Overall, these units are very
luxurious, compared to the standard Brookings
apartment. Innovation Village has many
amenities for its residents, including a pool and
spa, community room for large events, a large
patio with grills and a bar, and fitness room.
All this design encourages residents to mingle
in a community setting not usually available
to apartment residents. This element encour-
ages an open, friendly ethos in the 126-room
complex.
However, as I toured Innovation Village,
I felt a little let down. I wanted to be struck
with something grandly, impressively in-
novative. Specifically, one hopes to see green
building techniques and environmental
sustainability highlighted in a project like this,
but little emphasis is readily obvious in the
building. Each unit is equipped with individual
central air conditioning, and instead of an in-
novative, environmentally friendly, on-demand
water heater, each unit still has its own huge,
outdated storage tank. The sprinklers still run
daily, even in late September, and with the
water and sewage included in the rent, one
does not expect residents to be particularly
conscience of conserving the resource.
The building does, however, have a
freshly community-enabling dynamic. The
atmosphere, and pricing, is geared for young
professionals, specifically ones linked to the
academic community. The layout of the build-
ing encourages interaction and socialization
between residents, and pets are even allowed -
one more measure taken to make the place feel
as alive and friendly as possible. The proximity
to campus should help reduce congestion due
to transportation, enabling a cleaner, more
open neighborhood.
One of the few environmental consid-
erations that has been taken is equipping the
building with recycling services – an option
not present in many apartments, mobile home
courts, or other mass-housing complexes, but
for some ill-planned reason, the trash facilities
are close enough to the first floor to keep a
stretch of the hall subtly trashy-smelling. This
situation feels emblematic of the dynamic in
these apartments: quality attempts have been
made to positively develop the community in
an innovative, progressive direction, but there
are still major unresolved issues. The area has
the potential to be highly congested, verging
on over-populated, in three years.
A progressive individual automatically
responds enthusiastically when institutions
and businesses attempt to innovate in reaction
to the social, economic, and environmental
considerations faced today. Innovation Village
is a development hinting at many efforts in the
right direction. Hopefully, as this region of
Brookings continues to develop, the tendency
towards innovation evolves alongside.

Bootleg(s) of the Week Umphrey’s McGee

by Mike Roe 2008-04-03 - The Orange Peel - Asheville, NC
<http://www.archive.org/details/UM2008-04-03>

W ARNING : Put this paper down and walk away right now if you don’t want your face melted off. This Bootleg of the Week is sure
to please. Umphrey’s McGee left it all out on The Orange Peel stage on that 3rd of April, 2008. I’m not sure how many lucky souls made their
way to Asheville, N.C., that night, but each and every one of them certainly got their money’s worth and more. Opening with nothing short of an
epic “Triple Wide,” the band follows with a somewhat short (5:13) “13 Days,” and a “Tribute to Spinal Shaft” that will certainly blow your brains to
smithereens. A solid “Water” and a technically phenomenal “Mulche’s Odyssey” round out the first set.
The second set opens with a rocking rendition of Genesis’ “Abacab.” After that, a 33 minute “Der Bluten Kat” that will keep you entertained half
the way to Sioux Falls. After a flawless “2nd Self,” the band closes out the night with an immense(21:28) “Hurt Bird Bath” and an extremely heavy
“Phil’s Farm” with the coolest Bluegrass-Prog Metal you’re ever going to hear in the middle of it. This show is most definitely a treasure chest, and
amidst all the precious stones, gold coins, and various other treasures, the version of “Der Bluten Kat” that Umphrey’s put forth for this show is the
kind of treasure that the Goonies left for One-Eyed Willie at the end of the movie. With a couple of clicks and a little bit of down time, you will
understand what I’m getting at, so hop on to the inter-web you kids are using and get this show! Tasty listening.

1234567890 PLU 09’09

Toma Un Viajecito
by Kaleb Kroger
T o say that the past three months of
my life have been exciting, or great,
or whatever other adjective you want to use
would be an understatement. It’s a touch
difficult for me to convert priceless and unique
memories and experiences into tangible words
on a piece of paper, but nonetheless I’ll try.
I’ll try because I feel it’s important for you to
know about the remarkable time I spent in
Guatemala and Colombia this past summer.
Six weeks in Guatemala is a stretch for
some people. Throw in another six weeks
in Colombia, and it’s just simply too much.
There were times when I felt like leaving both
countries weeks before my scheduled depar-
ture, but I’m thankful I remained. I would
always get homesick midway through the third
week in either country, after the novelty wore
off. Thank God I was dependent on getting
college credits in Guatemala and too poor to
ever try and change my ticket back home from
Colombia. I’m glad I stayed though, because
after some insightful introspection I learned
that I was physically and mentally capable of
living abroad for significant periods of time.
As someone who desires to work abroad as
part of a career with the US State Department,
it was good to realize that I have this capacity
sooner rather than later.
My previous international trip to Ireland
a few years ago was only for twenty days, and
I was surrounded by family and friends the
entire time. In contrast, I went to Guatemala
only really knowing one other person on
the trip, and I went to Colombia by myself
to work with a Roman Catholic missionary
order called the Messengers of Peace. In
Guatemala I spent roughly one hundred
photo by Kaleb Kroger
hours in a classroom, one on one with a local
Guatemalan teacher. On the weekends our
group from SDSU would usually take little
trips to go climb volcanoes or visit markets.
I didn’t do much sight-seeing in Colombia,
however; I spent my time there working and
living with a priest and a religious community,
serving the poor, working with children, and
translating for mission groups that came from
the USA. I did make plenty of friends while in
both countries, but those friendships were only
fortified after a few lonely weeks had passed.
Those friendships, both with locals and with
my fellow compatriots, are what enabled me
to cope with being a few thousand miles from
home. I’ve noticed with these trips abroad that
anytime a group of people endure something
together, something out of the ordinary, strong
bonds are begotten.
You may be thinking about how exotic
and exciting my summer must have been,
and I can definitively say that it was both,
but undoubtedly my time in Guatemala and
Colombia are not defined by having done
extraordinary or exotic things. Yes, I climbed
a few mountains and volcanoes, relaxed in
natural thermal springs and spas and toured
ancient Mayan ruins. I won’t fail to mention
the awe-inspiring landscapes either, like
watching the sunset on Lake Atitlán, one of
the biggest and most beautiful lakes in the
world. Colombia too, situated in the middle
of the northern Andes, is home to some of the
most magnificent scenery I’ve ever experienced.
What made these excursions worthwhile and
memorable though, were not the breath-taking
views of Lake Atitlán from the burrito shop in
San Pedro or the nine-million-person city of
thepeglegupdate@gmail.com
Bogotá from Montserrate, nor any of the other
“big” things I did. What made this summer
unforgettable were little things like grabbing
a drink with the crew in Guatemala or sitting
in the plaza in Villa de Leyva, Colombia, and
just chilling. Unforgettable were the meals I
shared with my host family in Quetzaltenango
and the religious brothers in Colombia.
Unforgettable were the American, Guatemalan
and Colombian friends I made this summer.
Travel has helped to transform my
pie-in-the-sky concept of global citizenry into
something concrete, and after all, you can’t be
cosmopolitan if you’ve never left the country.
The wisdom-filled lectures of Dr. Nels Gra-
nholm are even more inspiring when you can
take the abstract ideas from his class and put
them into action when you travel. I realized
this summer that our actions, as individuals
or as a nation, have concrete ramifications
throughout the world. It could be anything,
from the Guatemalan coffee you buy at the
store (and whether or not your purchase keeps
people in poverty or lifts them out of it) to the
decision of our country to install new military
bases in Colombia (and the national and
regional tension it evokes in South America).
If you’re looking for a good time and
perhaps a little self-indulgence, go to Cancun
for spring break. If you want to really develop
an appreciation for another culture, learn how
your actions here in South Dakota matter
outside of our country, and make some lifelong
friends in the process, head somewhere else. It
doesn’t have to be any specific spot; you just
have to be willing to jump in. Once you do, I
promise you won’t regret it.
1234567890
Costner and Dances: Twenty Years Later
by Jay Albertson

O h, South Dakota. No matter where this

world takes me, my heart will always be
in good ol’ So. Dak.
South Dakota has downfalls for sure:
sparse population, a disgusting amount of
Republicans, plains as far as the eye can see,
the Corn Palace. Occasionally, the clouds lift
on the land of Great Places, Great Faces, and
we are treated to the Arts. The South Dakota
Film Festival recently came to Aberdeen, and
along with it came a man who would seem-
ingly be almost a God amongst our population.
He is the white buffalo, a myth to be revered
and fawned over. A man whose presence is
shockingly normal and average, in spite of
his status. Of course, I am talking about none
other than Kevin Costner.
The screen flickers on in front of a loaded
crowd in the Johnson Fine Arts Center, located
on the Northern State University campus.
Ooo’s, awe’s and applause ebb and peak over
the small vignette showing highlights of Kevin
Costner’s career. Of course, it ends with the al-
most sacrificial scene from Dances with Wolves
where John Dunbar basically tries to commit
suicide by riding his horse, arms open, through
a rebel battle field. The screen goes dark, and
then from the back of the room, there he is.
The crowd happily leaps to their feet and gives
Costner a standing ovation.
Dressed in a blue sports jacket, jeans and
cowboy boots, he walks through the crowd
like a guest who just happens to be acquainted
with and loved by everyone. He stops and
shakes hands and exchanges comments with
enthusiastic fans. By the time he reaches the
stage, he holds his hand over his heart and
gives a few pats to his chest. “My heart feels
big,” he smiles and is met with even more
applause. Although the crowd may a project
a “bigger than life itself ” image about him, he
is very humble and down to earth. When the
interviewer, Paul Guggenheimer, gives him a
slight ribbing over the mullet he sported in
the late ‘80s / early ‘90s, Kevin Costner laughs
fondly at his poor fashion decision making.
But he’s not in South Dakota to take shit over
his mullet from Guggenheimer. He is the guest
of honor and is there to discuss Dances with
Wolves, as it is the 20 year anniversary.

photo by Jay Albertson

1234567890 PLU 09’09

 Dances with Wolves won 7 Oscars in 1990,
including Best Picture and Best Director.
Kevin tells a story about writer and personal
friend Michael Blake. Costner says the script
spent almost six years as a doorstop in his
home before Blake finally convinced him
to read it. Costner described himself as an
independent filmmaker, as he put up his own
money to fund the movie and wouldn’t make
changes to appease the distributors. A focus
group suggested that he drop the opening
scene of the Civil War and the death of the
wolf, Two Socks. Costner refused to make the
changes, saying it would totally ruin the film
and defeat the purpose. Costner goes on to say
the meaning of the film is, “Men of goodwill
come into conflict, because they don’t have the
language to communicate.”
The next morning I sit on stage with a
small group of people at the Capitol Theater in
Aberdeen, waiting to have small Q&A session
with Mr. Costner. For whatever reason, the
small vignette is played again before Costner
comes and takes the stage. He gives advice
and tells aspiring filmmakers, “You have to
go where the breaks are.” The reason behind
filming Dances in South Dakota was that is
was extremely cheap.
At one point a young lady asks how he
responds to criticisms in general. Costner
specifically states a situation about McDon-
ald’s. In the mid ‘90s, McDonald’s distributed
a select few VHS tapes, among them Dances
with Wolves. Costner expresses his outrage,
but he could never have prevented it from
happening.
photo by Jay Albertson
Although he was facing accusations that
he was clearly trying to profit by using Native
Americans, the best he could do was make
sure that all the residuals went to the Native
American actors from the film. He goes on to
say that he is a doer, not an activist. He tried
to help give them a voice, but also explains that
he is not a spokesperson. His response to criti-
cisms is no response, under the mentality that
vehemently says, “That’s not what I’m doing.”
It’s only ammo for his critics, and defending
himself would only further incriminate him.
With this notion, I agree; it’s hard to control
how people view a piece of work, and it’s even
harder to change how they view that work. He
encourages the same mentality amongst the
aspiring filmmakers, the idea of ignore your
naysayers and continue to work hard.
Kevin Costner wasn’t the only highlight
of the film festival. Films from all over the
world appeared on the big screen at Capitol
Theater. Although the main focus was on
Great Plains directors, there were films from
New Zealand, Spain, Sweden, The United
Kingdom and Mozambique. The film festival
took part in the Manhattan Short Film
Festival, which had ten submissions from such
exotic locations. My personal favorite was
a movie directed by Sam Donovan, Ham-
merhead, in which a small boy deals with his
parents separating and his mom’s realization
of her sexuality, as she is now in a relationship
with a woman.
Although the movie takes on a seri-
ous social and personal situation, it also is
thepeglegupdate.wordpress.com 1234567890
portrayed in a humorous manner, with the
impish, mischievous nature of a small child.
But not all films were as serious as
Hammerhead. The short film GOLD, which
was directed by Michael Stromenger, takes
jabs at conventions of surprise endings, such
as “it was all a dream” or “the protagonist and
the antagonist are actually the same person.”
Although I found it hilarious, one the films
shown shortly after GOLD actually employed
such tactics. One can imagine Stromenger’s
humor was lost on the mocked creators.
South Dakota State University had a
few filmmakers representing the area. Kellin
Johnson’s The Hill was shown, as so was Brent
Clouser’s The Haunt.
One of the best feature length films
shown was the documentary Anvil! The Story
of Anvil. A movie about the 1980’s metal
group “Anvil,” the movie dives into the group’s
history, influence in the music industry and its
failure to achieve the success of its contempo-
raries. This movie follows the band members as
they try to get to rock star status. The film has
interviews with Lars Ulrich, Slash and other
rockers.
One movie that I have to suggest was
made by the production company Blue Tongue
Films. Last year they brought Spider, and this
year Miracle Fish, in which a young boy spends
his 8th birthday being teased by his peers.
After sneaking off to a sick bay he wishes
everyone would go away. He falls asleep and
wakes up to find out that he may have gotten
his wish. These movies and other works can be
seen on http://www.bluetonguefilms.com.
Patrick Hicks: The Peg Leg Interview
by Mitch LeClair
O n September 19, I had the opportunity
to take a mid-afternoon drive down
I-29 and spend almost an hour talking to a
writer-in-residence from Augustana College.
After a swing through the old Ernie Novem-
ber, where I bought Steely Dan’s Aja for $5,
I met Patrick Hicks at Monks House of Ale
Repute in downtown Sioux Falls.
I found Patrick to be a complex guy.
He’s lived in many different countries, yet his
soul still seems to be firmly rooted in eastern
Minnesota. Maybe it was the Surly Furious ale
resting in my stomach, but by the time I said
goodbye to Patrick a few minutes past 7 p.m.,
I felt like I had made a friend - though this
could just have been a sly marketing attempt
on his part.
However, his smiles didn’t seem mischevi-
ous, and he told me he’s a fan of Rush, so I
think I can trust him.
PLU: Christine [Stewart-Nuñez, professor of
English at SDSU] borrowed me a copy of your
new book [Finding the Gossamer]. How long
ago did this come out?
HICKS: ’08, ’08. In the summer. I think June.
PLU: And right now you’re working on a prose
book, correct?
HICKS: That is correct. My second book
collection is done, and it will be coming out in
2011. So that’s nice, I’ve been able to sort of
put that manuscript to bed, so that will be out
in about a year and a half time. But yeah, now
I’m working on a novel. Matter of fact, that’s
what I was working on just before I came here.
PLU: I was on the Bush Foundation website
[ed: the Foundation recently granted Hicks a
$4,100 grant to study in Europe for his novel],
and they said it was Newgrange. Is that the
name of it?
HICKS: That was when I applied. The name
has changed, and it’s now Juniper Falls.
PLU: Did you already travel to Europe to do
research for it?
HICKS: I haven’t. I’m going in January. That’s
when I’ll be taking off, and I’ll be going to
Poland, specifically to Kraków, first two weeks
of January.
PLU: In “Winter Count” [a poem from Hicks’
Finding the Gossamer] you say, “but when these
1234567890 PLU 09’09
winter coats are read backwards, the buffalo
multiply / prairie schooners are driven away”
and in “Not Springing Forward [In Barcelona]”
you say, “M-16s suck bullets from the resur-
rected.” I really enjoyed that, that device, that
reversal of time.
HICKS: Thank you.
PLU: Is that something you came up with
on your own, or did you recognize it in other
poets and apply it?
HICKS: No, that was something I came
up with on my own, I guess. But you have to
wonder where ideas come from anyway. But
with “Not Springing Forward in Barcelona,”
I got the idea, what would time look like if
it sort of went backwards. I had a lot of fun
writing that poem. It went through a lot of
drafts. I would guess about 50 drafts before I
was happy with it. But, I had an awful lot of
fun writing that, and I discovered, I mean his-
tory is very beautiful if we look at it in reverse.
You could have people marching out of the gas
chambers and going back home. I mean that’s
very beautiful.
PLU: Do you use Facebook, Skype, anything
like that?
HICKS: Here’s the interesting thing, Mitch. I
did a reading earlier this week, and for the first
time in my life I had people coming up, and
they said some very nice things about my writ-
ing, which is always very humbling. And then,
what they said next, which kind of surprised
me, they wanted to become my friends on
Facebook. I do have a Facebook account. I
check it once a month, intentionally only once
a month, because I see it as a necessary evil.
But that’s never happened to me before, where
people want to be my Facebook friends, just
because they saw me read. That’s very strange
to me.
PLU: [After a mention of his work appearing in
National Catholic Reporter] What religion do
you practice?
HICKS: I don’t. I was raised Catholic. I like
to call myself part of the Catholic alumni.
PLU: It seems like you still have a really large
respect for the traditions of the church.
HICKS: I do, I do. It’s not that I’m trying
to be obtuse here. I’m trying to figure out
what my full theological beliefs are. The short
version is, I’m more inclined to believe in
something bigger than myself, but I’m not
convinced that deity speaks the language of
this religion, or this religion. So I respect the
traditions of Catholicism, because it’s my past.
[Pause] Let me start over.
PLU: [Laughs]
HICKS: I was born speaking American
English. I love American English, but I also
appreciate British English. All the other
languages work to communicate. American
English is always going to be my mother
tongue, but I’m aware that there are these other
languages that work just fine out there as well.
PLU: A couple poems in your book deal with
your wife, especially “Waiting for my Wife on
a December Evening.” It reminded me of my
girlfriend I’ve had for a few years. It’s a really
warm poem. It’s really tense, but really warm
then at the ending. When I mention your wife,
what things come to your mind?
HICKS: [Smiling] Wow. There’s a whole
topography of emotions there. She’s my
best friend, she’s obviously my wife, and we
get along. Some people would say we have
a storybook sort of love. But like any other
married couple, we bicker and fight and get
disappointed with each other, and we pick
each other up. I recognize that she’s a recurring
character in this particular collection. Someone
pointed out to me once in an interview just
how frequently my wife comes up, and also
my father. That wasn’t intentional, I guess it’s
just…[Pause] I’m not sure why they’re in there.
I love them very much, so I guess they just
appear. They’re part of the landscape of my life,
and I want to write about the most important
parts of that landscape.
PLU: Well, we’re sitting in Monks. It’s
developed a little bit of a reputation in the area.
If you want good beer, you come here. We do
some beer review type in our issues [giving
Hicks Issue 1 of The Peg Leg Update]. I was just
wondering what kind of a beer drinker you are.
HICKS: Do you brew your own beer then,
or?
PLU: No, I don’t. One of my former room-
mates did once, and we ended up using it to
cook bratwursts in, because that’s about how
good it tasted. Do you homebrew at all?
HICKS: No, I don’t, but I’m fortunate
enough that I’ve got a number of my friends at
Augustana that do. Whenever there’s a party,
they always bring a keg of whatever it is they
made. I have sort of a saying that I go by. Life
is too short to drink cheap beer. And I like to
try new beers, but I tend to favor English and
Irish beers, obviously. I like German beers. As
far as I’m concerned, if God is a beer drinker,
he drinks only Belgian beers. Those people
really know how to make quality beer.
PLU: [Pointing at Hicks’ drink] What did you
order there?
HICKS: This was a Surly something or other,
it’s a Minnesota brewery. I like to support
the local breweries whenever I possibly can,
because that’s a hard road they’re trying to hoe.
HICKS: If you are going to write about the
kind of beer that I like, I might as well say
this. It’s like a total advertisement, but I’m
really attached to this. It’s called Liftbridge.
It’s a brewing company, and it’s out of my
hometown of Stillwater, Minnesota, and they
guy that started it went to Saint John’s. I’ve
never met him, but the fact that we share
the same hometown and the same university,
how could I not like what they’re doing? And
they’re good brewers, so Liftbridge Brewery
in Stillwater. Whenever I go up to the cities,
I always try to bring back at least six or 12 of
those.
PLU: In the poem “At the Telephone Museum
in Prarietown, Minnesota”… First of all, is
Prarietown, Minnesota, a real town?
HICKS: No, I totally made that up. This is
the telephone museum in Mountain Lake,
Minnesota. But I just thought “mountain lake,”
that was not capturing the idea that I wanted,
so I just made up a town.
PLU: You write of the talk that once flowed
in the telephones and in the lines, the “missing
at Iwo Jima.” In other poems you mention
Vietnam, and I did read an interview you did
with O’Brien...I can’t remember his first name.
HICKS: Tim?
PLU: Yeah. And the one poem in there [Find-
ing the Gossamer] about 9/11 I really felt like
I could relate to on some different levels, but
from a lot of what I’ve seen, you don’t mention
much the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. How
do you think the chatter in the phones has
changed since the ‘40s, the talk of Iwo Jima, do
you think people these days talk about the wars
going on right now, or how do you think the
public’s perception of the wars is? Even from a
literal standpoint, I mean a literary standpoint.
HICKS: It’s a painful question, because I’m
forced to give this answer. I think that this
country is just weary, and I think we’re tired
of talking about it. Which is not fair. I mean,
we’re asking our sons and daughters to go and
put their hides on the line, but we don’t seem
to care. I don’t quite understand this. We say,
yes, go there, do this for us, but at the same
time there’s this indifference towards the war.
And I’m as guilty as anyone else. You can only
take so much of this. I was a very outspoken
opponent of the Iraq war before it started,
and I only have so much bile for the Bush
administration, so I just feel like, oh thank
God, he’s out of power. It just seems like we’re
in limbo right now, because we’re pulling back
from Iraq, and I don’t think people want to talk
about it right now.
PLU: Well, and yeah, we’re pulling out of Iraq,
and sending more troops to Afghanistan. It’s
going to be 67/68,000 by the end of the year. It
seems like it’s not in the news very much, and
I think part of that has to do with the media’s
kind of acceptance to following the orders
that come down from both the Bush and now
Obama administrations, that, you can’t, you
can’t show that.
HICKS: And more importantly, and this
just blows my mind, my country does this all
the time, just marches into a country and has
no idea what the culture is all about, and sort
of figures it out while we’re there. We just
bungle this up, time after time. I find it really
repulsive. You can tell that my, my blood is
just flowing on this. I find it repulsive, and
disgusting, that we care so little about the
cultures that we are going into. I mean, no one
knows anything about Iraqis’ culture. We’re
perfectly happy killing these people, but I
think that we, at least, should try to figure out
a little bit more about their history, and the
way they think. I think in the end, it would be
better for everyone, all around. Because now
we are as tied to Iraq as we are to Vietnam.
There are guys walking around right now that,
they’re in Vietnam every day. And [snapping his
fingers] then something happens, and they’re
back there.
PLU: Kinda getting back more towards literary
things, are there any modern poets that are
really sticking their necks out there and talking
about the war, in your eyes?
HICKS: Oh, absolutely, and I’m proud to say
he’s a friend of mine as well. His name is Brian
Turner. His first collection is Here, Bullet.
And I think, Christine told me that someone
is teaching that up at SDSU. Brian served in
thepeglegupdate@gmail.com 1234567890
Iraq, and he wrote poems. He’d finish his tour,
get out of the Humvee, go into the barracks
and write poetry with one of those little
flashlights so he wouldn’t wake up the other
guys. And Brian has asked some very difficult
questions of our self, as a nation, and he is a
phenomenal poet. I’m really impressed at the
work that he does, and it’s my good fortune
that he’s also a friend.
PLU: Well…I’m pretty much out of questions.
HICKS: Okay.
PLU: [Pause] When were you born?
HICKS: When was I born?
PLU: Yeah.
HICKS: ’70.
PLU: 1970. Okay. I was just wondering how
old you were.
HICKS: 39.
PLU: 39. I couldn’t find it anywhere.
HICKS: [Laughing] Well one of the things,
there is a poem I’m going to write about at
some point in time, do you know Apollo 13?
You know, the rocket that took off for the
moon, and did you see that movie?
PLU: Yeah, the one that went around…
HICKS: Right. And from a very young age,
I’ve always been sort of fascinated with the
Apollo program, and the reason I’m telling
you this, is one of these days I want to write
a poem, because when Apollo 13 lifted off, I
wasn’t here. I was born while that mess was
happening, and they came back, and I was
here. There’s something I find very powerful
about that, that idea that these three men lifted
off, and I wasn’t on the earth, and they came
down, and they were safe, and I was here. But I
haven’t quite worked out what I’m going to do
with that. I find that absolutely fascinating that
my mother gave birth while these three guys,
they could’ve been very close to dying.
I returned to Brookings, and it took me
one hour to transcribe little more than eleven
minutes of our chat.
After that hour, I reevaluated whatever
the hell it was I was trying to accomplish
and decided to pick and choose some select
exchanges with the poet. I deleted insignificant
utterances, but what is printed is basically a
straight copy of our exhange.
On October 5, Patrick will travel to
the SDSU student union and read from his
latest poetry collection Finding the Gossamer,
published by the Irish publisher Salmon Poetry
in 2008. He’s a terrific writer, and from what I
could tell, a great guy. I recommend the event
to all.
2009: The Local Foods Movement Goes Mainstream
by Wyatt Urlacher

W hy should I care where my food comes

from?” Whenever I hear this question,
I find myself at a loss for words. Not because I
don’t have a good response, but because there
are so many reasons—important, morally
compelling reasons—that it’s difficult to
know just where to begin any sort of orderly
explanation.
America’s industrial food system, from
which many of us consume 100 percent of
our total calories, is broken. This is no longer
considered a fringe notion. Even in mainstream
media outlets, the idea is gaining momentum—
a fact reinforced by a recent cover story in Time
magazine entitled “Getting Real about the High
Cost of Cheap Food.”
In it, author Bryan Walsh kicks off his
scathing assessment of our current system with
the opening, “somewhere in Iowa, a pig is being
raised in a confined pen, packed in so tightly
with other swine that their curly tails have been
chopped off so they won’t bite one another.”
He goes on to describe the use of antibiotics
giving rise to scary strains of superbugs; manure
lagoons that “blanket neighboring communities
with air pollution and a stomach-churning
stench;” and a direct indictment of top-soil-
depleting American corn that was “grown with
the help of government subsidies and millions
of tons of chemical fertilizer.”
What Walsh is talking about is nothing
new—just pick up a copy of Michael Pollan’s
The Omnivore’s Dilemma to get a comprehensive,
tour de force critique of American food produc-
tion. But what is new is the fact that this sort
of language is being tossed around inside the
pages of Time magazine, a publication which
doesn’t have the best track record when it comes
to tackling controversial subjects, especially
ones with powerful multinational backers like
Monsanto, Cargill and Tyson Foods.
The fact that Time is willing to stick their
hand into such a hornet’s nest is more a testa-
ment to the growing strength of the local foods
movement than to any newfound journalistic
respectability on their part. Indeed, for people
who want to see real change in American
agriculture, the past year has been nothing less
than a series of long strides in right direction.
Take, for example, the documentary
Food Inc. The film, which played in theaters all
over the country last summer, highlights the
interconnectedness of problems associated with
America’s industrialized food system and its
effect on our environment, health, economy and
workers’ rights—from the global food crisis to
diet-related problems like obesity and diabetes
that are crippling our economy.
If the fact that theaters across the country
are willing to show such a politically controver-
sial flick signals something of a sea change, then
news that Ag Secretary Tom Vilsack agreed
to attend a private screening with film maker
Robert Kenner equates to something more
along the lines of a tidal wave.
That’s because for as long as most of us can
remember, Big Ag and Big Government have
had a pretty cozy relationship (for proof one
needs look no further than the revolving door
between Monsanto’s board of directors and the
FDA). But in the age of Obama, there may be
cause for optimism among local food advocates.
Aside from Vilsack’s willingness to attend
a screening of Food Inc., there has been an
explosion of headlines in the past year suggest-
ing the administration may be ready to push for
reform.
Perhaps it all started with Michelle
Obama’s kitchen garden. Since moving into the
White House, the First Lady has apparently
decided to make food her number one issue,
even pushing for a farmer’s market in front of
the White House (the District of Columbia
recently approved the idea and the first market
was held last week).
Then there was the announcement in
August that the Department of Justice will
begin an antitrust investigation into ways that
competition is restricted in agricultural markets,
from the sale of seed to the ownership and
control over grocery-store shelves—something
the Bush Administration wouldn’t have touched
with a ten foot cattle prod.
And finally, this week the USDA will
unveil their “Know Your Farmer, Know Your
Food” initiative—which local foods pioneer
Ken Meter has described as “part of a bigger
shift that America is going to need to make—to
focus on food, people, and communities, rather
than primarily on commodities.”
What does all of this mean? Well, if I had
to wager a guess, I would base it on history.
And history teaches us that certain social
movements—the ones that reach a crucial
tipping point in American culture—tend to
become bigger than even the people involved
in them can imagine. It happens suddenly, as if
one morning society wakes up to a new reality.
Whether or not this will happen with the local
foods movement remains to be seen, but recent
events are encouraging. From here, it’s easy
to imagine a future where the question “Why
should I care where my food comes from?” will
be replaced with “How can you not know where
your food comes from?”
Of course, the headlines only tell half the
story. Aside from the White House press re-
leases, big-screen documentaries, cover stories in
national magazines, and the growing popularity
of food authors like Michael Pollan and Marion
Nestle, there is something else bubbling beneath
the surface. There is a grassroots consumer
movement taking place in America, in South
Dakota, in Brookings. It comes from people’s
desire to build up their local economies, to
improve their environment and to provide their
families with healthy, delicious food. It comes
from all of us deciding to take a stand against
corporate interests who put profits above our
health. And it comes from a deep and sincere
hope that safe, healthy, sustainable food will still
be available for our children to enjoy.

Local Suds, Number 2: Volga

by ps>flux

G arrison Keillor characterized the Midwestern ethos towards spending money like this: “Oh, I think you can do without that. Your words come
back to me when I look at a new sportcoat. Good Scottish tweed, it costs $130, and when I try it on, it makes me feel smart and lucky and
substantial, but you’re right, I can do without it, and so I will. You can get a perfectly good one at Sears for half the price. If I bought the $130 one, pride
would leak in and rot my heart. Who do I think I am?”
This train of thought should feel familiar to South Dakotans. I, for one, always enjoy a purchase more if I didn’t spend a lot of money on it. This
way, the guilt doesn’t cloud my appreciation of whatever pleasure said product might give. It is partly this spirit that inspires me to write the “Local Suds”
series. I love eating and drinking in little towns because the business has priced their items to appeal to rural, small-town folks – exactly the types that,
like me, know how much their personal happiness is not worth. In this spirit, allow me to tell you of an excellent place to have a meal and catch a buzz at
the kind of price that even a Lutheran farmer might suppose is alright once in a while.
The Lucky Dog Casino & Pub is located in Volga, SD, a short five-mile jaunt west of Brookings. My companion and I visited the bar on a Wednes-
day night. We showed up with a huge appetite, and The Lucky Dog’s kitchen staff completely took care of us. A juicy cheeseburger and double-size
heap of crosscut fries cost only four dollars, and the quality of LD food appears to be consistently excellent. One can judge a lot about the legitness of a
place’s bar-food by the buffalo wings, and the Lucky Dog has this culinary art mastered. The wings were uniformly saucy and flavorful but not too messy.

1234567890 PLU 09’09

The Oktoberfest Challenge
by Ross Bell

T he leaves are changing colors, and the

moon rises orange. The autumnal equinox
has passed; it’s officially fall. The season leading
up to winter is one of my favorite times of
the year for several reasons. The main reason,
however, is because of something that began
during the spring season - that is the brewing of
Märzen style beers! For a short few months we
get to enjoy these wonderful beers until we are
left to wait until next season once again. I guess
I have some explaining to do.
Märzenbier, or Oktoberfests, originated
in Bavaria around the 15th century. The name
“märzen” comes from the German word for
March, which is when märzenbiers are typically
brewed. The reason for this is that märzen style
beers are lagers. Now, it would take a whole
article to explain the difference between ales and
lagers, but for the sake of history and this article,
I will make only two points. Lagers ferment at
lower temperatures than do ales. Lagers also
typically take longer to ferment. The reason
why these beers were brewed in March was so
that they could be aged in caves and ice could
still be taken from rivers and placed in the caves,
keeping the cave cool for months. Ah, now it all
makes sense.
Märzen style beers are the color of the ris-
ing harvest moon. They are malty in character
with little hops and a dry finish. They typically
have an alcohol by volume of around 4.5% to
6%. Did I mention that they are delicious? They
are delicious!
Many breweries around the world brew
this lager in the traditional manner around
March to be enjoyed throughout September
and October. Communities around the world,
generally of German heritage, also have celebra-
tions under the same name, Oktoberfest. The
fall season is a wonderful time of the year in the
beer world.
Unfortunately for me, the Fall season
brings a stuffy nose due to pesky weeds that are
native to the prairie. For this reason I invited
Mitch LeClair, a fellow beer loving comrade, to
help compare four different Oktoberfests with
By process of elimination, I’m sure you
have figured out that the winner of the Okto-
berfest Challenge is Beck’s. Beck’s Oktoberfest
me. is rich and flavorful with an exceptional finish. I
The four beers are as follows: Beck’s Okto- would be happy with this beer on any occasion.
berfest, Sam Adams Octoberfest, Leinenkugel’s [ed: I agree with Mr. Bellington. The first sip of
Oktoberfest, and August Schell Octoberfest. Beck’s brought me back a few months to my experi-
Beck’s is German, while the latter three are ence of enjoying a large lager with a newfound
American breweries. I think it is also important friend named Ben in Berlin. That particular beer
to mention that August Schell brewing was in May tasted wonderful over a traditional South
founded by Germans and continues embrace German plate of macaroni, and I think that Beck’s
German culture with great pride. Oktoberfest would made a wonderful addition to
All four beers had that wonderful burnt any autumnal meal.]
orange color that is typical of Märzen style The reason I chose these four beers was
beers. With the exception of the Leinenkugel’s, because they were the only märzen style beers
the beers had a nice malty mouth feel. They available in Brookings at the time. Now there
were not too thin, but nowhere near chewy. are at least four more. I’m sure they are all quite
Leinenkugel’s seemed a little watered down, good, maybe even better than the ones I talked
which was even evident by looks alone. about here. So go to an establishment that
Trying to sniff out subtleties in lagers has sells beer and build your own six pack. I highly
always been difficult for me, especially when doubt you will be dissatisfied.
there is pollen in the air. All four beers smelled
like a lager. For the lack of a better example,
think of what a Budweiser smells like. Becks,
Sam Adams, and Schells all had a little more to
their scent. A nice roasted malt scent mixed in
with that lagery smell. Leinenkugel’s actually
did smell just like a Budweiser.
Onto the taste. To put it simply, they all
tasted like Oktoberfests. Big surprise. Roasted
and balanced malts were evident with all four
beers. The weakest tasting of the four was the
Leinenkugel’s. It lacked depth and could have
used more malts.
The Bronze medal goes to Sam Adams.
With the highest ABV at 5.7%, I could taste
the booze. The finish is abrupt, leaving me
hanging.
The number two spot goes to Schells. Our
palettes detected more of a biscuity roasted malt
flavor. The finish is smooth and delicate, a solid
brew for sure.
photo by Mitch LeClair

I made it through the plate on only two napkins. The wings consist of good, real chicken meat that comes off all together, half the wing at a time, saving
the eater the work of jamming his tongue between the two bones for the last pieces of meat. These were some of the larger wings I have encountered in
my long history of enjoying the dish, and the cooks know how to make them really, really spicy when you ask for it – not something one can count on in
the pansy-palleted Midwest.
A visitor immediately feels comfortable in the Lucky Dog. You don’t have to be special to fit in here; in fact you could probably be below average
and still pull it off, but the pub harnesses a small-town, come-as-you-are appeal with a cleanness and spaciousness not always present in these types
of establishments. My dinner companion appreciated the fact that meals were served on real dishes instead of plastic; some patrons smoked, but the
atmosphere was not choking, and the video lottery machines were refreshingly empty. As the evening went on, the establishment filled to a surprising
size for a weeknight in a town this size. My companion and I felt good in enjoyable company.
The only poor grade I have for the Lucky Dog goes for Bloody Mary-making skills. The beverage was not spicy or tomatoe-y enough to com-
pensate for the heavy presence of vodka. I love burnt drinks, but want a Vitamin-C-laced vegetable pizzaz to disguise it thoroughly; all I got from the
Dog’s Mary was season salt. The bartender compensated for herself, however, when I asked her to surprise me. She came back with a, to me previously
unknown, drink called The Grateful Dead. I believe I saw her dump vodka, triple sec, white and gold tequila, rum and gin into the tall glass before a
splash of sour mix. The drink gets its name from the final addition – a shot of raspberry sour that filters through the glowing, yellow drink in a trippy
tie-die cloud. The Dog serves good, cheap drinks alongside the priced-to-move food – we had two meals, an order of
buffalo wings, three tall taps and two mixed drinks for 29 bucks. Beat that Cubby’s. Lost Dog:
A sign on the wall of the Lucky Dog quasi-philosophizes its way towards explaining the establishment’s flavor: 3 legged. Blind in one eye.
I hope you take the time to appreciate the Zen of the Lucky Dog. Load your stomach up with some Missing left ear. Broken tail.
crispy bar-food and enjoy the combination of a Grateful Dead and a menthol cigarette. Recently castrated.
Answers to ‘Lucky.’
If you like, pet the big stone dogs relaxing in the corners of the rooms – my favorite is
the English Bulldog, although the alert Rottweiler is a close second. Here in Volga,
any old hound can come out and have a good night. thepeglegupdate.wordpress.com 1234567890