It's Lisa's Turn column: Pulling out of a slump (2024)

“Inspirational” books and movies and songs tell us we need to dream big. “Shoot for the moon,” they tell us. “Even if you miss, you’ll land among the stars.”

I gave that a try about two years ago. I took a big risk, shot for the moon … and landed face-first in a puddle of mud. It’s been a rough 24 months or so, but something happened just recently that made me reevaluate.

I have a little piece of land, about an acre, a ways out of town that I was able to secure through a grant program in the tiny town where it’s located. A few weeks back, my friend, Karen, announced she was coming out to Alex, and she wanted to drive out and look at it with me.

Karen and I became besties when I moved to a new, spacious Duluth apartment in the upstairs of an old house, 30 years ago, and she and her then-husband moved into the main floor unit. Things went south for them: one memorable December, she threw the Christmas tree over the deck railing and him out the front door, and since I was already an “experienced” divorcee, we became fast friends.

contributed photo.

For some reason, Karen and I got ourselves into way more outrageous situations — and have way more outlandish stories to tell as a result — than about any other friend I’ve had. The lady from the nearby church who needed to use our phone in a snowstorm — but was rude to the animals. The “potato bugs” we served at a “fancy” dinner. The time Karen, who was struggling to make ends meet, came home to find her dog had eaten an entire bag of cat food she could ill-afford to replace, and then thrown it back up all over her dry-clean-only comforter.

I got her more cat food, got the comforter cleaned again for her, and got her a metal garbage can with a tight lid to store the cat food in. Never underestimate the power of letting someone else help you now and again.

Karen came to Alex at the beginning of the month and we loaded up my two (noisy) dogs and headed out to see my land. I drove up the weed-choked driveway and headed around the gravel pad that will eventually be home to my house … and sank my Subaru over the hubcaps into the mud.

We got out and stood there, looking cluelessly down at the car. Being a lifelong journalist doesn’t always equip you to manage real life with any kind of success. Except that ….

I remembered, on my very first story for the Echo Press, I interviewed a smart, fun, gal named Jennifer who grew up in — and had a rich family history in — the little town where I’m hoping to move. Shortly after I’d talked to her for that story, she wrote me the nicest note perhaps I’ve ever gotten, welcoming me into the community, and that’s the very first time I really felt this move — and this big flyer I’d taken on my life — was going to be OK.

In desperation, I texted her, because I knew she would be at church — just over the hill from where we were stuck in the mud.

Minutes later, she showed up. Of course she did. She’d called my new next-door neighbor. My new next-door-neighbor was best friends with her husband. Of course he was. And of course, he had another friend with a huge truck who was on the way. Of course.

Neighbor's friend's big truck got stuck in the mud, too. The men disappeared. Came back with some kind of fancy power winch that you mount in your truck hitch. Neighbor pulled out friend’s big truck. Friend pulled ME out. Karen and I limped the seven miles to town, no faster than 10 mph, and spent a long, long, long time washing the mud off from Arthur’s undercarriage (Arthur is my car).

Lisa Johnson / Alexandria Echo Press

Coming from a biggish town (Rochester), I was always interested in small towns. But the grace I found in my new little burg … coincidence? The ridiculous, impossible kindness of giving up a chunk of your Sunday to pull a (apparently not too bright) stranger out of the mud, the graciousness just blew me away. Almost as much as the staggering idea that no other response was even considered.

I feel like the Universe, who I have been absolutely convinced for a long time hates my guts, sent me a big ol’ dose of hope. It sent me a sign. It sent me new friends. Could it even have sent me a reason to be optimistic about things? Well, let’s not get carried away, but privately, I’m starting to think I landed among the stars after all. Of course I did.

“It’s Our Turn” is a weekly column that rotates among members of the Echo Press editorial staff.