On the last day of high school in Florida, my friend Karin gave me some goodbye/graduation gifts: a scarf with a hood, matching earmuffs, a pair of gloves, and some sweaters and sweatshirts.

"I guarantee that after one winter spent up there, you will say, 'FOR-GET THIS'!" and move right back down here," she announced.

Well...it's been 8 winters, going on 9...and though I have come close to saying it...here I am!!

I traveled way up north to the Upper Midwest to simply finish a bachelor's degree at the University of Minnesota, right? Live in the dorms, hit the books and get with study groups like I've done my entire previous life. But as it turned out, there was a whole world out there to tap-into also. Some of the stuff I got was sweet, and some....well...I needed a wastebasket. In the end, I got the greatest gifts of all because I came up here and stayed. And I ended up being a survivor, in every sense of the word.

After my parents left me at Middlebrook Hall, the residential dorms on the West Bank of the University of Minnesota - Twin Cities campus, I could almost not describe the feeling I experienced. On the one hand, I smelled the freedom I had waited nearly 20 years for (I came from the kind of household that didn't allow much)...and on the other hand, I felt like yelling, "What, you're going to just turn around and LEAVE me here??! Where AM I, anyway??"

And then they began their 1,200 mile journey back to Florida, leaving me standing in the autumn wind - the temperature of which reminded me of living in New York.

I met some other students at the Carlson School of Management's Preferred Admission Program orientation. Not long after my folks' departure, I made my own departure out of the dorms and temporarily roomed with a fellow Carlson student from South Dakota on Portland Avenue in downtown Minneapolis. I wasn't impressed with my dollars paying for a place where mashed potato fights took place on a regular basis and where guys covered in mud would knock on my door at 2 a.m. to take a Poloroid of me. I wanted to get some good sleep, cook for myself and live among the rest of society - not in Freshmen World. Plus, you couldn't beat the incredible skyline views from that part of town. From palm trees to tall towers again, all lit up at night. The immediate surrounding neighborhood was rough, but somehow, we just didn't mind.

Tammy Johnson was a lot like me, adventurous and wanting to see the Twin Cities and the natives. We drove out to the 'burbs to be able to see families, kids, and seniors...people other than college kids. A couple of months later, I finally found my own apartment (and looked forward to it, since we had been living in a studio!!) in the first-ring suburb of Robbinsdale. I remember debating between 3 places in Brooklyn Park, St. Louis Park, and Robbinsdale, and one day, I just decided to get on the U of M 52K commuter bus and get off somewhere in Robbinsdale. I had never rode a bus before and didn't even know how to signal a stop. I followed someone and stepped off on 36th and Noble, which was 5 blocks beyond the Terrace Mall (where I wanted to stop) and found myself enjoying a cold November day in a residential neighborhood. I ended up renting 3848 West Broadway, Apt. 19 - my first apartment.

No matter how often I've moved, and how many places I've lived, to this day, Robbinsdale is my stomping grounds.

I remember a deep sense of loneliness during this time, and the only person's voice I was really familiar with was Jesse Ventura's - the voice that blared from my television all the years I was growing up watching wrestling. I woke up at 5:00 a.m. every morning to AM 1500 KSTP and Jesse's talk show.

"Aaaaaaallllll-riiiiiiggghhht....get yer butt out of bed...." his familiar voice would growl. "Another cold winter morning out there....this crap out here sucks, Rookie," he'd bark to his co-host.

I thought I was in New York, hearing that voice from the past, but then I remembered where I was.

I was in the place where I would ride in vehicles over frozen lakes, experience -30 degree F windchills, slide down snow-covered hills in sleds, eat Walleye and wild rice soup, and carry around 3-feet-long icicles. I'd go grocery shopping at THE grocery store, Cub Foods, and bag my own groceries because that is the protocol here (unless a person goes to an upscale store like Lunds or Byerly's). This is also the place where I would join THE GYM...finally be able to start driving (and did I ever!)...meet the professional wrestlers I grew up watching on TV - in person...get into powerlifting and break records...meet a boyfriend and get married...have a wonderful child (Glen Robert)...start working full time at a crisis pregnancy center and make an impact on people's lives...learn more than I ever have before...find healing, strength, and faith...and see miracles and the unexpected unfold. I would go on to live in three other Minneapolis suburbs. Minnesota is where joy and pain was experienced, and where the unbelieveable happened. Not that these didn't happen earlier in my life...but now I was able to really be aware of everything and learn from it all.

I mentioned earlier that I got the greatest gifts of all from living here. What were they, you ask? My son, Glen...a closer-than-ever relationship with God...friendships with the most inspirational people a person could meet...and the chance to understand what I am capable of - and what I am not.

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