Paul Larson
Writing ACSC
Lynn Moore
12/1/08
House Research
D. B. Searle Building
In Stearns County, Minnesota, many buildings and houses display years of history and memories. Past beginnings and settlements established in the central location of the state are only shown in evidence by a few historic structures still standing. However, as historic as they may look, these structures are essential for communities. Stories and events dating back to the late 1800’s and early 1900’s in Saint Cloud, Minnesota, are rich, and they continue to haunt, or pass on through each generation.
The attraction of haunting ghost stories to communities is quite humorous and ironic. Storytellers tell a ghost story by using dramatic language and fearful tone for listeners to use their imagination. It is the listener’s imagination that determines a belief to the supernatural presences. I, too, allow myself to be seduced by such stories. For some reason, the stories that have been told to me, and the stories that I have read, are the closest I have come to any paranormal activity. However, I was finally given the opportunity to seek out and discover my first sighting of a haunted house. And who would have thought that this opportunity would be given to me through a college writing course; I was to choose a significant building located in Saint Cloud to research information. By chance, I chose a building that engages me. Stories have been told for the past few decades about haunting instances that swirl around in the building that is aging 125 years. I might add that this building continues to create more ghost stories today, which is exactly what I was hungry for in a building that is now a restaurant.
DB Searle’s Bar and Restaurant located on 18 5th Ave. S, in Saint Cloud, is considered a popular dining spot downtown. Sandwiching this tall, red brick building is a Jimmy John’s to the left and on the other side, a theatre known as Pioneer Place. Across the street are other dining restaurants, Red Carpet and House of Pizza. Just down the block is the Radisson Hotel. Although the urbanized atmosphere of these buildings appears to be a little aged at first glance, the actual appearance of DB Searle’s is quite nice and appealing for potential diners and even drinking customers—looking for a downtown bar to hop. On Fifth Avenue, this building stands out among the other dwellings. My eyes were caught by the pressed red brick exterior; the color makes the building appear rejuvenated compared to its surroundings. Also, my attention was captured by the blue lettering of DB Searle’s restaurant. The building floated its letters halfway-up, splitting the five high-glass windows on the third and fourth floors. Directly in front of the street level entrance is a street light to shine on the building at night. The unique feature other than the history, about DB Searle’s is that the building is three stories high. For a fine dining restaurant combined with a sports bar and pub, it is unique and attractive.
I wanted to pay a visit to DB Searle’s for an actual meal, rather than driving around the block and parking in the front lot of the restaurant. I began to feel like a stalker as I sat in front and stared at the downtown setting. I wanted to view the actual inside of this building, instead of touring the outside, imagining what it might look like inside. But before I could make my visit to the restaurant, I decided that it would be best if I researched the history of the building first. After all, this was considered one of the most significant buildings in the Saint Cloud area.
In the Stearns History Museum, I found information about DB Searle’s, which dated back to the days when the building had first opened. Dolson Bush Searle coined the name of the building after himself, in 1886. Although, he came to the Saint Cloud area as a community judge and attorney, Searle invested his money in the building as a bank. A German American style bank, it was considered the handsomest business building outside the Twin Cities. However, the bank became an insurance office, then a funeral home, tailor shop, mill works, apartment unit, brothel, and most currently, a restaurant.
The identity of the building had changed so many times, people must wonder what is going on inside. Oddly enough, the variety of tenants who lived in the building creates curiosity as well. Then, I stumbled upon newspaper articles stating the building was haunted. Excitement rushed through my body; I had to visit the building to witness what others were claiming. The haunted activities were frequent occurrences to employees at the restaurant. Hearing old fashion music from other floors, footsteps on stairways and pounding on walls, and reflections of unknown people on mirrors, were frequent occurrences. Also, doors inside the building were being locked, which did not even have locks. One employee even claimed that she had felt a hand move through her hair while working one night. To me, these haunted instances were typical stories that I would expect from a ghostly building. Nevertheless, I admit I was still spooked. There was good reason to be spooked: the restaurant was a funeral home and brothel years ago, which is enough evidence for me to be nervous.
After gathering my information, I felt apt to overcome my preconceived notions about DB Searle’s. Finally, I stepped inside the attractive red brick restaurant on Fifth Avenue. I did not bring anything to hunt for the paranormal, only my appetite and friend, who accompanied me for dinner on that Friday evening. I was very surprised as I first entered the building, there seemed to be hardly anything extraordinary. The walls framed pictures of the downtown setting, from past to present. I only noticed the building to have some dark corners and crannies, which I had read about from the newspapers. The building felt a little aged, which gave the restaurant its cozy feel. I thought DB Searle’s was very similar to any other pub or restaurant I had been to, but I was still on my lookout. The waitress seated us to an upstairs booth, which seemed quite comfortable. We sat on padded green seats, with a wood backing, and there was a dim lighting above us, which did not bother me. A few couples and dinner parties surrounded us, all seemed to be enjoying their meals. I grew hungry as my eyes inspected every inch of the floor and other people’s plates.
The waitress asked us for our preference of drink and I simply asked for water. She seemed very nice and welcoming, and I wondered if she knew the history of the building like I did. However, I did not dare to question her as she took our orders—I thought she might believe I was crazy for asking such a randomly odd question. Although I was very hungry, I spent little time scanning the menu for a meal, because my mind was occupied otherwise. My anticipation waited for an unusual sound, sight, or feeling, but nothing had happened yet. I quickly decided on the Western Burger with fries, it seemed like the best choice. Despite my hopes for experiencing something haunted, nothing had happened. The waitress came back out in what seemed like a few minutes with our food. At this point I forgot about where I was eating because of my appetite. All of the creepy sounds of old music, footsteps and pounding on walls, the images of apparitions, and the feelings of ghosts touching me were forgotten. The only thing that mattered was my food—my previous attentive lookout had vanished.
My Western Burger and fries were delicious; there was nothing more satisfying for my hunger at that moment. I enjoyed the rest of the meal and also enjoyed the company from my friend. We left DB Searle’s feeling full and pleased. The restaurant provided excellent service, the meal was commendable, and the price was reasonable. We could ask no more from this downtown dining spot, which filled up with people as we walked out of the entrance. Even though I did not experience what I came to witness, I did see the value of a historic structure in Saint Cloud. I am amazed the DB Searle building manages to stay upright and living inside and out, in a realistic and haunted sense, 122 years after it was built. Maybe the building is not haunted, and people only tell the stories for enjoyment. However, it is certain that the Dolson Bush Searle building will continue to pass or haunt future generations with ghost stories. As for now, it is certain for great food and hospitality.
All information was found from the Stearns History Museum in Saint Cloud, Minnesota, from the house files.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Personal Narrative
Paul Larson
ACSC Writing
Lynn Moore
11/17/08
Personal Narrative
Growing up, my family would often attend family get-togethers and holidays on a gigantic dairy farm, or at least it seemed that way, in southeastern Minnesota. After three hours of long drives in my family’s maroon minivan, we would pull up through the valley, to grandma and grandpa’s country house. I remember mom always telling my sister and brothers to imagine that we were watching a movie, just so we could estimate how long we would have to wait for the next bathroom break. The winding roads and turns that eventually brought us made my stomach turn and my head spin, but I never was sick because I was too excited to arrive. I would anticipate all of the great food, and family bonding, which made the long drive worth all the while.
Coming up through the valley, the first sight our minivan would pass is a field, full of dairy cows—this is when my body was filled with the most anticipation, not only because of the food and bonding, but more so the chance to finally use a bathroom. Once we pulled in to the driveway, the scent from the cows was powerful. Fresh manure and silage might not have been great smells, but they were smells of a longing familiarity. If not for the smell, the sound from the farm let my family know we were at grandma and grandpa’s; cow bellows and moos, bobcats and tractors, and from the house joyous laughter.
After my business in the bathroom, I was determined to make my way outside. There was about an acre of green grass behind the garage where all of my cousins gathered. We played games such as football, baseball, and tag and sometimes we just sat around to talk. A heavenly yard was a dream for young kids to run around and chase each other. I especially enjoyed the free space, because my favorite game to play was football. This gathering area for my cousins was our “power spot.” Near the yard was grandma’s garden—a forbidden zone for playing; however, that did not prevent some of my eldest cousins from playing with squashed vegetables and trampling over her flowers.
Just beyond the garden was a “danger spot.” The flat grass in the yard ended next to the garden and on the other side there was a slope of grass that converged in to the highway. On one occasion, my cousins and I were playing a baseball game in the yard. When I was batting, I hit a long foul ball; it soared over the garden, over the slope, and on to the highway. I remember watching the ball bounce high off the paved road. We did not have any extra balls to play with, so our only option was to retrieve the foul ball off the highway. The rules were, “if you hit it, you get it;” so that is exactly what my cousins made me do. I was only around the age of six or seven, and crossing highways was not yet a safe practice my parents allowed of me. However, I just wanted to retrieve the ball so our game and my at-bat could continue. I passed down the slope, on to the highway where I saw the ball lying in the middle of the road. I was so anxious to get to the ball that I forgot to look both ways. Of course a car was coming and was forced to swerve, which saved my life. The car honked loud enough to notify all adults in the house. And before I knew it, the game was over, my older cousins were scolded and I was punished by my parents for such a silly decision to pass on the “danger spot.”
On the opposite side of grandma and grandpa’s yard was a white cow barn with a hayloft upstairs. The hayloft was dark and empty—there was only one light and the space was only occupied by dark air. The barn was rather old and probably unsafe for young children to gather in; however, we chose this spot as a popular hangout, because the hayloft had an old basketball hoop that we often enjoyed using. We even moved a trampoline up there, so that we could jump high enough for the thrill of dunking basketballs. The wood floor in the hayloft was very creaky and old; and when we would jump on the “tramp” the floor would sound like we were going to fall through. Naturally, this was not bothersome because we were enjoying ourselves too much. Luckily, the adults never decided to follow us to the hayloft otherwise there would have been little chance for us to play games, especially on the trampoline. I would consider the hayloft at grandma and grandpas, the cousin’s “secret place.” The only people who knew what went on in the hayloft were my cousins. Nevertheless, the secret did change because of a certain instance.
On the front side of the cow barn there was an entrance located on the ground floor. Just above was the hayloft where we played; the hayloft had an outside entry for tractors to unload hay bales, and from the ground to the hayloft entry was about twenty feet. This distance would make a dangerous fall. As we were playing one day in the hayloft, we had the outside entry open to gather some light for the dark place. While we were jumping on the trampoline one of my cousins jumped off on to the old wooden floor. When he landed on the floor, his balance was unstable. As a result, he fell through the open entry, down to the rock gravel path below. The fall had broken his leg and there was blood all around him. Immediately my cousins and I went in to tell the adults for help. This day marked the end to our days hanging out in the hayloft.
At grandma and grandpa’s farm, the kitchen was my family’s “favorite place” to gather. My grandma, mother, and aunts worked hard to prepare enough food for the family to be satisfied, and they never disappointed. They filled the table with turkey, ham, potatoes, corn, and rolls for dinner. But before anyone could eat, my big family circled around the little table filled with food and we said our dinner prayers. Everyone left the table with full stomachs, even though every time someone would walk back to the kitchen their appetites would reappear. Grandma’s kitchen was a special place for my family.
I have many memories from my childhood at grandma and grandpa’s dairy farm. My senses can still recall the characteristics around their country home. I can picture the white cow barn near the long yard, and I can smell the fresh manure outside and the fresh meals inside the house. But most of all, I remember all of the valuable time I had to spend with my family. Once again, I am excited to arrive up through the valley in my family’s maroon minivan.
ACSC Writing
Lynn Moore
11/17/08
Personal Narrative
Growing up, my family would often attend family get-togethers and holidays on a gigantic dairy farm, or at least it seemed that way, in southeastern Minnesota. After three hours of long drives in my family’s maroon minivan, we would pull up through the valley, to grandma and grandpa’s country house. I remember mom always telling my sister and brothers to imagine that we were watching a movie, just so we could estimate how long we would have to wait for the next bathroom break. The winding roads and turns that eventually brought us made my stomach turn and my head spin, but I never was sick because I was too excited to arrive. I would anticipate all of the great food, and family bonding, which made the long drive worth all the while.
Coming up through the valley, the first sight our minivan would pass is a field, full of dairy cows—this is when my body was filled with the most anticipation, not only because of the food and bonding, but more so the chance to finally use a bathroom. Once we pulled in to the driveway, the scent from the cows was powerful. Fresh manure and silage might not have been great smells, but they were smells of a longing familiarity. If not for the smell, the sound from the farm let my family know we were at grandma and grandpa’s; cow bellows and moos, bobcats and tractors, and from the house joyous laughter.
After my business in the bathroom, I was determined to make my way outside. There was about an acre of green grass behind the garage where all of my cousins gathered. We played games such as football, baseball, and tag and sometimes we just sat around to talk. A heavenly yard was a dream for young kids to run around and chase each other. I especially enjoyed the free space, because my favorite game to play was football. This gathering area for my cousins was our “power spot.” Near the yard was grandma’s garden—a forbidden zone for playing; however, that did not prevent some of my eldest cousins from playing with squashed vegetables and trampling over her flowers.
Just beyond the garden was a “danger spot.” The flat grass in the yard ended next to the garden and on the other side there was a slope of grass that converged in to the highway. On one occasion, my cousins and I were playing a baseball game in the yard. When I was batting, I hit a long foul ball; it soared over the garden, over the slope, and on to the highway. I remember watching the ball bounce high off the paved road. We did not have any extra balls to play with, so our only option was to retrieve the foul ball off the highway. The rules were, “if you hit it, you get it;” so that is exactly what my cousins made me do. I was only around the age of six or seven, and crossing highways was not yet a safe practice my parents allowed of me. However, I just wanted to retrieve the ball so our game and my at-bat could continue. I passed down the slope, on to the highway where I saw the ball lying in the middle of the road. I was so anxious to get to the ball that I forgot to look both ways. Of course a car was coming and was forced to swerve, which saved my life. The car honked loud enough to notify all adults in the house. And before I knew it, the game was over, my older cousins were scolded and I was punished by my parents for such a silly decision to pass on the “danger spot.”
On the opposite side of grandma and grandpa’s yard was a white cow barn with a hayloft upstairs. The hayloft was dark and empty—there was only one light and the space was only occupied by dark air. The barn was rather old and probably unsafe for young children to gather in; however, we chose this spot as a popular hangout, because the hayloft had an old basketball hoop that we often enjoyed using. We even moved a trampoline up there, so that we could jump high enough for the thrill of dunking basketballs. The wood floor in the hayloft was very creaky and old; and when we would jump on the “tramp” the floor would sound like we were going to fall through. Naturally, this was not bothersome because we were enjoying ourselves too much. Luckily, the adults never decided to follow us to the hayloft otherwise there would have been little chance for us to play games, especially on the trampoline. I would consider the hayloft at grandma and grandpas, the cousin’s “secret place.” The only people who knew what went on in the hayloft were my cousins. Nevertheless, the secret did change because of a certain instance.
On the front side of the cow barn there was an entrance located on the ground floor. Just above was the hayloft where we played; the hayloft had an outside entry for tractors to unload hay bales, and from the ground to the hayloft entry was about twenty feet. This distance would make a dangerous fall. As we were playing one day in the hayloft, we had the outside entry open to gather some light for the dark place. While we were jumping on the trampoline one of my cousins jumped off on to the old wooden floor. When he landed on the floor, his balance was unstable. As a result, he fell through the open entry, down to the rock gravel path below. The fall had broken his leg and there was blood all around him. Immediately my cousins and I went in to tell the adults for help. This day marked the end to our days hanging out in the hayloft.
At grandma and grandpa’s farm, the kitchen was my family’s “favorite place” to gather. My grandma, mother, and aunts worked hard to prepare enough food for the family to be satisfied, and they never disappointed. They filled the table with turkey, ham, potatoes, corn, and rolls for dinner. But before anyone could eat, my big family circled around the little table filled with food and we said our dinner prayers. Everyone left the table with full stomachs, even though every time someone would walk back to the kitchen their appetites would reappear. Grandma’s kitchen was a special place for my family.
I have many memories from my childhood at grandma and grandpa’s dairy farm. My senses can still recall the characteristics around their country home. I can picture the white cow barn near the long yard, and I can smell the fresh manure outside and the fresh meals inside the house. But most of all, I remember all of the valuable time I had to spend with my family. Once again, I am excited to arrive up through the valley in my family’s maroon minivan.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Persuasive Essay
Paul Larson
Writing ACSC
Lynn Moore
11/11/08
Persuasive Essay
Learning the proper techniques and methods of a profession are integral parts of college education. This learning helps students prepare for the obstacles they may face in the working environment. Through the Elementary Education program at Saint John’s University, opportunities are given for students to learn their field. Some of the working opportunities include the Urban Immersion experience in a diverse classroom of the cities, and the Local Experience in an area school. One may ask: why are these work experiences valuable for students preparing to be elementary teachers? The Urban Immersion and Local Experiences provide examples for students to observe and reflect upon the teaching profession. In Elementary Education, urban and local school experiences are necessary for aspired teachers to learn from their field.
From these experiences, students aspiring to work in elementary schools learn about diversity in the classroom. Many children are from a variety of ethnicities and cultures; these cultures range from African-American to Hmong. Also, the classrooms display diversity through multiple learning styles such as Autism and Down Syndrome. Elementary schools from the twin cities provide much diversity amongst their students; the opportunity to work in a diverse school introduces new understandings and perspectives about students. One may argue college students can learn teaching techniques, diversity and relationships from their own discoveries in classroom content and learning. However, college student-teachers build relationships and bonds with cooperating teachers as well as the students—through interactions in an elementary classroom setting. The atmosphere of a diverse classroom cannot be imitated, which is why these experiences prove to be valuable.
For aspiring teachers, the urban and local school experiences also offers effective classroom management approaches. The cooperating teachers are excellent models as teachers. These teachers display proper techniques, methods, and disciplines for students in their classrooms. The student-teachers observe characteristics from authoritative figures that promote student learning—this proves to be effective. Additionally, these are not possible without the urban and local experiences. Courses from the college can educate students with knowledge and awareness; however, the field experiences help college students relate material best.
Lastly, college students gain confidence through teaching in an elementary classroom. Aspiring student-teachers witness the daily grind of a teacher, and really learn about significant preparation and organization skills elementary teachers must possess to be effective. Also, the urban and local school experiences allow opportunities for student-teachers to prepare lesson plans to teach. The relationships student-teachers build during field experiences boost their confidence. The opportunities in the classroom are great practice for college students—over time their skills will develop, they gain significant confidence, as well as a sense of accomplishment. Moreover, they may realize elementary education is their correct profession; this realization is based on their skills, desires, and experiences from the classroom.
The Urban Immersion and Local Experience do require time and work for aspiring teachers. But these experiences help college students become prepared to educate young children. Student-teachers from these field experiences learn a great deal from their cooperating teachers, students, and own practice. From a college setting classroom only so much can be taught in preparing college students for elementary education. The Saint John’s University Elementary Education program prepares their students comprehensively. Through many opportunities on field experiences, such as the Urban Immersion and Local Experience, college students will become much better teachers. For this reason, field experiences are so valuable to aspired teachers in Elementary Education.
Writing ACSC
Lynn Moore
11/11/08
Persuasive Essay
Learning the proper techniques and methods of a profession are integral parts of college education. This learning helps students prepare for the obstacles they may face in the working environment. Through the Elementary Education program at Saint John’s University, opportunities are given for students to learn their field. Some of the working opportunities include the Urban Immersion experience in a diverse classroom of the cities, and the Local Experience in an area school. One may ask: why are these work experiences valuable for students preparing to be elementary teachers? The Urban Immersion and Local Experiences provide examples for students to observe and reflect upon the teaching profession. In Elementary Education, urban and local school experiences are necessary for aspired teachers to learn from their field.
From these experiences, students aspiring to work in elementary schools learn about diversity in the classroom. Many children are from a variety of ethnicities and cultures; these cultures range from African-American to Hmong. Also, the classrooms display diversity through multiple learning styles such as Autism and Down Syndrome. Elementary schools from the twin cities provide much diversity amongst their students; the opportunity to work in a diverse school introduces new understandings and perspectives about students. One may argue college students can learn teaching techniques, diversity and relationships from their own discoveries in classroom content and learning. However, college student-teachers build relationships and bonds with cooperating teachers as well as the students—through interactions in an elementary classroom setting. The atmosphere of a diverse classroom cannot be imitated, which is why these experiences prove to be valuable.
For aspiring teachers, the urban and local school experiences also offers effective classroom management approaches. The cooperating teachers are excellent models as teachers. These teachers display proper techniques, methods, and disciplines for students in their classrooms. The student-teachers observe characteristics from authoritative figures that promote student learning—this proves to be effective. Additionally, these are not possible without the urban and local experiences. Courses from the college can educate students with knowledge and awareness; however, the field experiences help college students relate material best.
Lastly, college students gain confidence through teaching in an elementary classroom. Aspiring student-teachers witness the daily grind of a teacher, and really learn about significant preparation and organization skills elementary teachers must possess to be effective. Also, the urban and local school experiences allow opportunities for student-teachers to prepare lesson plans to teach. The relationships student-teachers build during field experiences boost their confidence. The opportunities in the classroom are great practice for college students—over time their skills will develop, they gain significant confidence, as well as a sense of accomplishment. Moreover, they may realize elementary education is their correct profession; this realization is based on their skills, desires, and experiences from the classroom.
The Urban Immersion and Local Experience do require time and work for aspiring teachers. But these experiences help college students become prepared to educate young children. Student-teachers from these field experiences learn a great deal from their cooperating teachers, students, and own practice. From a college setting classroom only so much can be taught in preparing college students for elementary education. The Saint John’s University Elementary Education program prepares their students comprehensively. Through many opportunities on field experiences, such as the Urban Immersion and Local Experience, college students will become much better teachers. For this reason, field experiences are so valuable to aspired teachers in Elementary Education.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Metaphor (10/28)
Metaphor
I am a puppy learning to be a dog. There are so many ideas and techniques that I feel I have not learned. A puppy is always anxious to become a dog, but it is not possible to just evolve from a puppy to a dog right away in life. This is similar to my feeling as a writer. There are ideas in my mind of how I would like to write but when it comes time to shaping these ideas on paper, I struggle. Puppies learn from dogs, whom they strive to be one day. I learn from professors and teachers, whom I strive to be one day. Teachers are great presenters of knowledge. They also, possess professionalism as authoritative figures to their students. Dogs are teachers to puppies, which is why a puppy’s journey is very similar to my own, metaphorically; we have to overcome certain struggles to reach our goals. One of my struggles is writing and being confident.
I think that I have grown in my knowledge and creativity over the past year, but I feel like I am impaired or challenged in writing thoughts. In high school, I did not spend much time writing; occasionally there were papers assigned but for the most part my writing was absent. As I have reached my sophomore year at Saint John’s University, I have realized what I write matters. Opinions, information, observations, and reflections are several ways in which I have used writing. Through many papers and written assignments, I can judge the quality of my writing. I hope that through this class, I am able to be more thorough and confident in expressing words on paper.
I am a puppy learning to be a dog. There are so many ideas and techniques that I feel I have not learned. A puppy is always anxious to become a dog, but it is not possible to just evolve from a puppy to a dog right away in life. This is similar to my feeling as a writer. There are ideas in my mind of how I would like to write but when it comes time to shaping these ideas on paper, I struggle. Puppies learn from dogs, whom they strive to be one day. I learn from professors and teachers, whom I strive to be one day. Teachers are great presenters of knowledge. They also, possess professionalism as authoritative figures to their students. Dogs are teachers to puppies, which is why a puppy’s journey is very similar to my own, metaphorically; we have to overcome certain struggles to reach our goals. One of my struggles is writing and being confident.
I think that I have grown in my knowledge and creativity over the past year, but I feel like I am impaired or challenged in writing thoughts. In high school, I did not spend much time writing; occasionally there were papers assigned but for the most part my writing was absent. As I have reached my sophomore year at Saint John’s University, I have realized what I write matters. Opinions, information, observations, and reflections are several ways in which I have used writing. Through many papers and written assignments, I can judge the quality of my writing. I hope that through this class, I am able to be more thorough and confident in expressing words on paper.
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