TODAY Magazine

12/29/2025

It’s that time of year again.

12/10/2025

As I pass through various communities, the downtowns are decorated to enhance the holiday
season. The owners of businesses have outdone themselves with festive storefronts. The intimate
setting in the boutiques and gift stores gives such a warm and cozy feeling. Nothing beats small-
town shopping. It’s beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.
I received a letter from a Rochester woman who bought a subscription to TODAY Magazine. She
expressed her fondness of the stories. She had one request, “Could you make the December issue
full of Christmassy stories? It is so fun to reminisce.”
Our busy staff granted her wish.
I believe as we celebrate all month long, we choose to reflect on holidays as a child. From many
years ago to even recent years. The various occasions flood our memories. If you read the stories
carefully, you will get a glimpse on how others spent time as a family creating special moments
in time.
Most families do not even realize they are accomplishing just that: Memories, and with their
loved ones. The cookies that are baked on a Saturday afternoon. The sleigh rides. Chopping
down the perfect tree. Making homemade ornaments that are continued treasures today. A
chance to drive around town choosing a favorite decorated house. Watching out the window for
Grandma, Grandpa and other relatives to arrive. Witnessing a home filled with love and laughter.
Most people become childlike again just for those few short days. I know it wouldn’t be
Christmas if I didn’t pause to remember the joy I felt with my older relatives who are no longer
with me. I am now the older relative. It has become my mission to carry on traditions past and
present so my children and grandchildren can relive the beauty of the season long after I am
gone.
As the TODAY staff closes another year, we have been gathering stories for the new year. Write
a story about an occasion in your life that you think of often. One that brings a smile. Enter it in
the TODAY Writing Contest. Perhaps you will win first place. The deadline is Feb. 15. The
clock is ticking.
To my faithful readers, so many of you have become good friends. I truly enjoy our lunches, the
telephone calls, the cards, letters and emails, even those who stop in to say hi, thank you. It is
amazing to me how words on a page can bring out the best in people. We need to continue to
work on being our best. All through the year.
From all of us at TODAY, Merry Christmas! Until next month, be kind.

12/08/2025

Shared by Marilyn Falk
A CHRISTMAS STORY TO REMEMBER
(Unknown author)

It was Christmas Eve 1881. I was 15 years old and feeling like the world had caved in because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle I'd wanted for Christmas. We did chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Pa wanted a little extra time so we could read the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched in front of the fireplace and waited for Pa to get down the old Bible.

I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Pa didn't get the Bible; instead, he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long as I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon Pa came back in. It was a cold clear night and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now Pa was dragging me into the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially on a night like this. But I knew Pa was not very patient at dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I put my boots back on and got my cap, coat and mittens. Ma gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave. Something was up, but I didn't know what.

Outside, I became even more dismayed. In front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Pa was already on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Pa pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.

"I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high sideboards.

After we had exchanged the sideboards, Pa went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood – the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally, I asked. "Pa what are you doing?” He responded, “You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" The Widow Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being 8. Sure, I'd been by, but so what? “Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"I rode by just today," Pa said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it.

Finally, Pa called a halt to our loading. Then we went to the smokehouse and Pa took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He told me to put them in the sled and wait. He returned carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked. “Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunnysacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy, too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Widow Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Pa was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was Pa buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible. Then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt. Could we come in for a bit?"

Widow Jensen let us in with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat. Widow Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Pa said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then Pa handed her the sack with the shoes. She opened it hesitantly and took out the shoes one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children – sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at Pa like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," Pa said. He turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up."

I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, tears were in my eyes, too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Pa handed them each a piece of candy and Widow Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of Pa in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it, I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Pa had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Ma and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Pa insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord, the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. Pa took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see they missed their Pa and I was glad I still had mine.

At the door, Pa turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about 11. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell."

I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had married and moved away.

Widow Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, ‘May the Lord bless you.’ I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold.

When we had gone a ways, Pa turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your ma and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough.

“Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your ma and me were really excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that. But on the way, I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunnysacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Pa had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. Pa had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Widow Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside Pa that night. Pa had given me much more than a rifle. He had given me the best Christmas of my life.

12/02/2025

Joe A. Vandenehuvel
Cannon Falls, Minnesota
It’s difficult to put pen to paper about something I’ve never even shared with my family. It
happened long ago – a different place and time, but the experience was when and how I learned
a little something about the meaning of Christmas.
I grew up on a little farm in an area made up mostly of Czechs, a few Germans and a sprinkling
of this or that, but mostly Bohemians whose ancestors had immigrated from Czechoslovakia.
Many still talked about their lives in “the old country.”
We moved there in the spring at age 4 or 5, a little Dutch boy trying to fit in and learn a culture
completely foreign to me. All was going well until fall and the start of school. The experience
was something really new but I adapted.
I was the only one in my class, never had a classmate until seventh grade, educated in a little
one-room country school. Six consecutive years of being class valedictorian, and then they shut
our little school down – talk about culture shock!

The school sat on a hill with a woods and ravine on one side and behind it, a playground of sorts
on one side, and a gravel road along the front. There was a pump for water in front and two
outhouses out back – a bit extravagant, in my mind. A steeple atop the school with the bell.
Ringing the bell got me in trouble a time or two, but the bigger kids put me up to it.
Several cement steps led to the front door and a hall with pegs to hang your coat and such. Doors
on both ends of the hall led to the schoolroom. There were three large windows on each side, and
in the back was just a single door leading outside to the two outhouses. A water fountain and
stove were in the back. Four or five rows of desks faced the front with the teacher’s desk, a huge
blackboard and a couple of pull-down maps, one of Minnesota and one of the world, and a big
old piano off to the side. Three lights hung from the ceiling on each side along with a small light
above the back door.
Back then there were only two events of great importance. One was the end of the school year
when we had a picnic with ice cream and everything. We always had a softball game with all the
farmers and kids playing for hours. Years later it occurred to me why all the farmers limped and
walked funny for a few days afterward.
The other big event was the Christmas program. Oh, the work and preparation that went into the
program and play was amazing!
In my six years we had from eight to a dozen or so kids in the entire school, and one teacher for
all the grades. The teacher had to make sure everyone got a part in the school play and there were
some solos as well. Throughout the years my roles included a wise man, a shepherd, even Joseph
one year. Third grade was my breakout year: a solo as a towheaded kid in overalls with a patch
on one knee, worn-out shoes and a dirty face. The short piece expressed what I thought of and
wanted at Christmas. I was a natural, didn’t even need a costume. The audience really cracked ’

up with the part about all I wanted for Christmas was right here in the “rears and sobuck
catalog.”
One other solo was performed by Susie. No way a girl going to outshine me! Didn’t care much
for girls back then anyway. Susie sounded pretty good in rehearsal, but mine was a real acting
part, not some old song. We rehearsed for an hour a day for weeks.
Santa showed up. We’d all get a bag of nuts and candy, the big minty chocolate-covered drops,
ribbon hard candy and an apple. Santa had a gift for each of us.
Sleep escaped me for two days before the play. The night was perfect with light falling snow,
and when all was quiet, you could hear flakes landing on the windows ever so softly. We did the
usual Joseph and Mary thing with me as a shepherd again. Then came my big chance at stardom
– with success. The audience was rolling in the aisles – in my mind, confirming me as the star of
the night.
Then came Susie. Mrs. Aldridge pursed her lips, blew the pitch pipe, and started playing the
piano. All the lights were turned off except the little one over the back door that produced a dim
yellow glow over everyone, The night was still and crisp and Susie sang “Silent Night” so pure
and perfectly with a softly played piano in the background that even I thought the performance
was pretty good for a girl. She finished and the lights came back to an unbelievable scene. All
these big burly farmers were pulling their snot rags from their pockets and wiping their eyes.
It took a while for that to sink in. My performance made the audience laugh and Susie made
them cry. Susie taught me a little bit about the meaning of Christmas with the purest and most
perfectly sung “Silent Night” and its effect on the grownups in the audience.
My eyes still tear at Christmastime when the lights go down and we sing “Silent Night.” I’ve
heard it sung many times by many wonderful voices, but none ever as good as when Susie sang
at our Christmas pageant.

11/24/2025

11/19/2025

Looking for a unique gift this holiday season?

11/13/2025

In memory of Carol McNeary.

11/12/2025

Jerry Finch of Cannon Falls recently experienced the thrill of a lifetime. A terminally ill veteran of the United States Air Force, qualified for the Lone Eagle Honor Flight to Washington, D.C. The program is designed for veterans to spend a short period of time in our nation's capital, visiting all the armed forces memorials as well as other notable locations. All of this, including flights, hotels, food, and snacks, is provided at no cost to the veteran.

His day began on Friday, September 19, at 4:30 a.m. With the early morning flight to Baltimore as his destination, Jerry arrived at the hotel, where he joined several dozen other veterans who were in attendance for the same purpose.

After a sound night's sleep, Jerry, along with the rest of the group, boarded two charter buses early on Saturday morning for the drive into D.C. The first stop on the agenda was the legendary Iwo Jima Memorial. Next on the agenda, located just west of the Pentagon, sits the Air Force Memorial. Jerry sat proudly with several other Air Force veterans for a series of photos.

A short drive to Arlington National Cemetery, Jerry, among others, observed in reverence and silence the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknown. The skill and discipline of those soldiers are nothing less than awe-inspiring. Jerry commented, "I don't think I've sat perfectly quiet for 25 minutes in my entire life."

After a brief lunch, everyone boarded the buses to head to the Franklin D. Roosevelt Memorial near the National Mall. This particular stop had an interesting twist. The expanse of the area and the extensive use of stone for its construction had a local tie. A park ranger informed Jerry that all the stone came from Cold Spring, Minnesota.

As the tour continued, veterans were on their own for a while. Jerry and his guardian stopped at the World War II memorial. "I found a form of peace while watching the pool and fountains," Jerry commented. By this time of day, even in September, the heat began to rise. A long walk came next for the distance east to west of the reflection pond. Jerry talked about the history of that location with the protests of the sixties, "and this is where Martin Luther King gave his speech. Also, this is where they filmed 'Forest Gump.'

At the west end of the pool, the Lincoln Memorial is still under construction. To the north, set into the slope of the excavated land is the Vietnam Wall. This became a long stroll. Jerry wanted to stop to take a closer look at all the memorials laid at the base of the Wall. He demurred quietly, "Look at all the names, and most of them were my age when I joined the service," he said.

To the south, opposite the Wall, is the Korean War Memorial. The larger-than-life soldiers walking through a field provide a rather haunting setting. "Witnessing the memorial is kind of eerie."

The final stop of the long day for these men and women was having a BBQ supper at the Women's War Memorial near Arlington Cemetery. The people from Loan Eagle never missed a moment to make these veterans feel more appreciated. At the conclusion of supper came mail call, where all of the vets received a large envelope full of cards and letters from home. Somewhat surprised to have received letters, Jerry accepted his package with gratitude and a big smile. He read each letter twice.

On the bus back to Baltimore, full of pride, Jerry and the other tired veterans took a seat, acknowledging silently to themselves that perhaps their loyalty to the US military had made a difference.

The folks at Loan Eagle and Honor Flight should be commended. They are truly amazing people with only one goal: to ensure these veterans, of all ages, know they are appreciated for what they've done for their country.

Jerry sat at the airport waiting for his flight. He pulled out the packet of mail from his bag. He read those letters as if it were the first time he had seen them.

10/30/2025

Never too early to start Christmas shopping. A Today Magazine subscription is the perfect gift!

08/04/2025

New magazine on stands now!

06/10/2025

We all see solar farms dotting the countryside and solar panels on home roofs. This product brings the same benefit to individual homeowners. The difference is it has the appearance of regular shingles.

Read more in the June issue of the TODAY Magazine.

06/03/2025

Amelia considers fishing with her grandpa Kim Korsten a bonding experience.

Read more in the June issue of the TODAY Magazine.