Cheers and applause Cheers and applause >> ADIA: HEY, TWIN CITES!

WELCOME TO TV TAKEOVER!

HOW ARE YOU ALL DOING TONIGHT?!

CHEERS >> Adia: GREAT.

I'M ADIA MORRIS AND WE'RE THROWING A TV PARTY HERE LIVE IN THE TPT STUDIOS, CO-HOSTED BY THE FABULOUS ST. PAUL ALMANAC!

CHEERS IT'S ALL PART OF A BRAND-NEW PUBLIC TELEVISION EXPERIENCE.

WE'VE ASKED FIVE OF THE TWIN CITIES MOST DARING AND INVENTIVE CREATIVE FOLKS TO TAKE OVER OUR AIR AND FOR THE NEXT HOUR, ST. PAUL ALMANAC IS GOING TO DO JUST THAT.

WE'RE GOING TO HEAR LOTS OF STORIES THAT HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED IN THE ALMANAC OVER THE YEARS, READ BY THE AUTHORS THEMSELVES AND FILMED IN A ST. PAUL LOCATION THAT'S IMPORTANT TO THE STORY.

WE'LL ALSO HAVE A FEW LIVE POETRY READINGS RIGHT HERE IN OUR STUDIO!

BE SURE TO FOLLOW ALONG WITH US ON TWITTER THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT USING THE HASHTAG TVTAKEOVER AND YOU COULD SEE YOUR TWEETS POPPING UP ON-SCREEN THROUGHOUT THE BROADCAST!

WE ALSO HAVE DJ KOOL AKHIEM HANGING OUT WITH US, SPINNING MUSIC FOR THE SHOW.

Cheers and applause AND ARTIST TACOUMBA PAINTING A MURAL RIGHT OVER HERE!

Cheers and applause BUT BEFORE WE GO ANY FURTHER, LET'S HEAR WHAT THE ST. PAUL ALMANAC IS ALL ABOUT.

>> St. PAUL ALMANAC IS A LITERARY ORGANIZATION, WE DO A LOT OF THINGS EVERY YEAR.

WE PUBLISH A BOOK CALLED THE St. PAUL ALMANAC.

WE DO IT ANNUALLY.

THIS WILL BE OUR NINTH BOOK THIS YEAR.

THEY'RE STORIES CREATED ABOUT St. PAUL, POEMS ABOUT St. PAUL OR THINGS THAT COULD EXIST IN St. PAUL.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL WE DO.

WE ALSO DO SEVERAL DIFFERENT READINGS SERIES, WE DO A COMMUNITY EDITOR PROJECT, WE PUBLISH OTHER BOOKS, AND WE'RE ALL ABOUT CREATING DIFFERENT OPPORTUNITIES FOR PEOPLE TO SHARE THEIR STORIES AND HAVE THEIR VOICES HEARD.

>> IT'S AMAZING WHAT COMES OUT OF THE WOODWORK OF St. PAUL.

TO SOME PEOPLE, ESPECIALLY PEOPLE THAT LIVE IN MINNEAPOLIS, THEY THINK OF St. PAUL AS THE SMALLER CITY.

BUT THERE'S A LOT OF DEPTH AND REALLY AMAZING PEOPLE AND EXPERIENCES AND HISTORY IN St. PAUL.

>> THE COMMUNITY EDITOR PROCESS HAPPENS EVERY YEAR.

THERE ARE 14 CLASSES MEETING.

WE HAVE FIVE PROFESSIONAL COMMUNITY EDITORS.

WE HAVE 20 EVERYDAY PEOPLE WHO HAVE DIFFERENT LEVELS OF ABILITY IN WRITING AND INTEREST IN WRITING AND READING.

AND WE ALL COME TOGETHER AND WE WORK ON OUR OWN WRITINGS AND WE ALSO GET HUNDREDS OF SUBMISSIONS FROM St. PAULITES, PEOPLE AROUND THE WORLD, AND WE DECIDED, THE GROUP, WHAT GOES INTO THE St. PAUL ALMANAC.

>> YOU THINK THAT SOMEBODY, SOPHOMORE IN HIGH SCHOOL, MAY NOT HAVE A LOT TO CONTRIBUTE TO THE DISCUSSION, NO, NOT MUCH DEPTH, THAT WILL BE THE STEREOTYPE, BUT IT'S REALLY AMAZING NIGHT AFTER NIGHT HERE TO SEE THE INSIGHTS THAT THEY ARE ABLE TO, YOU KNOW, REVEAL ABOUT THE PIECES THEY READ.

SO, AS A WRITER, THAT'S JUST EDUCATIONAL TO ME.

>> ARE YOU READY FOR OUR FIRST POET?

ARE YOU READY FOR THE FIRST POET?

CHEERS >> ALL RIGHT!

YEAH.

>> THE LOWER TOWN READING HAS BEEN HAPPENING FOR FIVE YEARS, HERE AT THE BLACK DOG CAFE IN LOWER TOWN.

AND THEY'RE CURATED BY A CURATOR THAT IS CHOSEN BY THE St. PAUL ALMANAC AND THEY DECIDE ON A THEME AND INVITE OTHER WRITERS AND PERFORMERS TO READ ON THAT THEME.

>> THERE ARE THREE WAYS TO MAKE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU.

BUY ME A BOOK.

FROM THE BACK CORNER OF THE BOOKSTORE ON A SINGLE BOTTOM SHELF.

>> WHY WOULD I TELL SOMEONE TO READ THE St. PAUL ALMANAC?

IT'S A MEDIA OUTLET THAT IS VERY AUTHENTIC, YOU KNOW, FROM THE PEOPLE THEMSELVES.

IN St. PAUL, WE HAVE SUCH A DIVERSE COMMUNITY.

SOMEHOW WE HAVE TO GET PEOPLE -- TO START PAYING ATTENTION TO EACH OTHER, CONNECTING TO PEOPLE AND YOU WILL FIND SOMETHING THAT IS RELEVANT TO YOU.

>> I THINK WE OFTEN THINK WE DON'T HAVE COLOR IN OUR LIVES -- POWER IN OUR LIVES AND OUR VOICES ARE OUR POWER.

AND AT THE St. PAUL ALMANAC, WE WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT YOU HAVE A CHANCE TO TELL YOUR STORY.

AND I'VE JUST BEEN BLESSED TO BE ABLE TO HEAR AND READ SO MANY BEAUTIFUL, STRONG, IMPORTANT STORIES ABOUT THE CITY AND ABOUT OUR PEOPLE.

CHEERS >> Adia: HI, EVERYONE.

WE ARE BACK.

WHAT A GREAT OUTRO TO St. PAUL ALMANAC.

WE ARE BACK WITH KIMBERLY.

KIMBERLY, I WANT TO KNOW A LITTLE BIT MORE ABOUT WHAT KIND OF STORIES WE'RE GOING TO SEE TONIGHT?

WHAT'S THE THEME?

>> YOU'RE GOING TO HEAR ALL ABOUT OUR PEOPLE RIGHT HERE IN THE CITY, THE BEAUTIFUL CITY OF St. PAUL.

OUR LOSS, OUR LOVE, OUR SURPRISE, AND THE DELIGHT THAT WE HAVE IN OUR EVERYDAY LIVES.

>> Adia: COOL, VERY COOL.

DIVERSITY LIKE THEY MENTIONED IN THE VIDEO, IS THAT REALLY IMPORTANT TO THE ALMANAC?

>> THAT'S WHAT WE'RE ALL ABOUT.

IF WE DON'T DO THAT, WE FAIL.

WITH YOUR HELP, ALL OF US ARE GOING TO BE TELLING OUR TRUE STORIES OF LIVING HERE IN THE CITY.

>> Adia: AWESOME.

ALL RIGHT.

SO, SHAQWAN, WHY DO YOU PICK THE THEME WHERE ARE YOU GOING?

>> IT EVOLVES FROM OUR OLD THEME LAST YEAR, WHICH IS WHAT DO YOU LOVE ABOUT St. PAUL.

AND WE ASKED PEOPLE TO WRITE ON CHALKBOARDS WHAT THEY LOVED ABOUT St. PAUL AND FREQUENTLY IT WAS A PLACE.

SO THIS YEAR WITH ALL OF THE NEW DIVERSITY IN TERMS OF THE TRANSPORTATION, WE HAVE THE NEW STORYMOBILE, AND St. PAUL HAS THE NEW LIGHT RAIL, SO WE THOUGHT, WHERE ARE YOU GOING, WAS A GREAT WAY TO TIE IN TRANSPORTATION TO LAST YEAR'S THEME AND PEOPLE HAVE COME UP WITH SOME GREAT PLACES.

>> Adia: THAT'S AWESOME.

WAY TO TIE THAT IN.

I LIKE THAT.

SO EITHER ONE OF YOU CAN ANSWER THIS QUESTION.

WHY IS St. PAUL ALMANAC IMPORTANT?

WHY DO WE HAVE IT?

WHY DO WE DO THIS?

>> I THINK THE St. PAUL ALMANAC IS REALLY IMPORTANT WAS IT -- BECAUSE IT EMPOWERS PEOPLE THAT MAYBE DON'T FEEL LIKE THEY ARE POWERFUL IN A LITERARY OR A STORY-TELLING SPHERE AND EVERYONE REALLY SEEMS TO LOVE TO TELL THEIR STORIES, BUT IT CAN BE REALLY HARD FOR PEOPLE TO COME OUT OF THEIR SKIN.

I STARTED WORKING WITH ALMANAC WHEN I WAS IN TENTH GRADE, AND, SO, I WAS, I DON'T REALLY HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY, NOW I WORK WITH THEM JUST ABOUT EVERY DAY AND I'M ALWAYS TELLING MY STORIES, TELLING OTHER PEOPLE'S STORIES, AND IT'S A GREAT FEELING.

>> Adia: THAT'S REALLY COOL.

SO WERE YOU A SHY READER, LIKE, DID YOU REFUSE TO READ OUT LOUD?

>> YEAH, I WOULDN'T REALLY TALK, EVEN AT MEETINGS, I WOULDN'T WANT TO READ.

BUT NOW I'M TOTALLY COMFORTABLE.

>> Adia: I CAN TELL.

LOOK AT THIS.

WELL, IT'S TIME FOR OUR VERY FIRST STORIES OF THE NIGHT.

FIRST UP, WE HAVE A POEM FROM DONTE COLLINS THAT'S A BIT OF A LOVE LETTER TO THE OLD RONDO NEIGHBOHOOD.

THEN, WE'LL STOP BY THE ST. PAUL PUBLIC LIBRARY TO RELIVE SOME SPECIAL CHILDHOOD MEMORIES, COURTESY OF AUTHOR KAREN KARSTEN.

>>.

CAP GUN ROBBERS, COPS AND SUNDAY CREEP COLLARS, PRIVATE SCHOOL SCHOLARS, GIVING THE CHURCH BASKET THE DOLLARS OUR MOTHERS SLIPPED INTO OUR POCKETS SECONDS BEFORE.

AND WE HELD DOORS FOR OUR ELDERS.

RECEIVE COMMUNION EVEN THOUGH OUR TONGUES HADN'T REACHED THE STAGE OF HOLY.

WATER GUNS WEREN'T ALLOWED IN OUR HOMES BUT BALLOONS WERE SO WE SOAKED OUR SUMMERS IN BATTLE SHIPS, NAIVE 9-YEAR-OLD HORIZONS, SUNSETS SITTING ON J. JAY HILL.

WAITING FOR THE STREET LAMPS TO CALL US HOME BEFORE OUR MOTHERS DID.

WHEN SHE DID, WE DITCHED OUR SCREEN DOORS, DANCED IN RAIN, BECAME THE NIGHT'S.

THEY CALLED US KIDS.

WE CALLED OURSELVES BIGGER THAN MOST THINGS OUR SIZE.

GIRLS BENEATH THE SLIDES, FIRST KISSES, EVERYTHING WAS FUNNIER WHEN YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SMILE.

THEY TOLD US TO MIND OUR MANNERS.

CRISS-CROSS APPLESAUCE FOR DINNER.

DID YOU WASH YOUR HANDS BEFORE DISHING THEM GREENS?

DID YOU HELP YOUR MOTHER PICK THEM GREENS?

SCABBED KNEES, BUBBLE GUM JEANS.

ALL COKED UP ON MIKE AND IKE SAYS.

EAT SOME NOW, SAVE SOME FOR LATER, SOUNDED A LOT LIKE A METAPHOR FOR CHILDHOOD.

THE WAY WE GREW UP THROUGH ANNIVERSARIES OF STREET SIGNS, PARADES.

I GUESS BEFORE THEY BUILT THAT FREEWAY, THERE WAS A COLONY OF HOUSES, LINED UP LIKE HERITAGE ON AN AUCTION BLOCK ABOUT TO MEET THEIR GOD.

THE LARGEST BLACK COMMUNITY IN St. PAUL WAS CUT DOWN.

LIKE IT HAD ITS -- LIKE IT HADN'T DESERVED THE LAND IT SLEPT ON FOR SO LONG, LIKE IT HADN'T RAISED ITS CHILDREN, PORCHES, GRANDMA'S FRONT LAWN, I BET IF THEY KNEW WE HID BENEATH THE BRIDGES THEY BUILT, THEY WOULD TEAR THOSE DOWN, TOO.

THEY WOULD TELL US KIDS TO GROW UP LIKE HIGH RISES TO MINORITY GROUPS.

WE WERE MINORITY GROUPS.

BUT IF YOU RAISE YOUR FIRE FLIES IN THE HEARTS OF THE DARK, EARN THEIR LIGHT IN THE FORM OF A SPARK.

IN THE FORM OF A MILLION MATCHES ATTEMPTING TO SET FLAME TO THE DESERT UNTIL EVERY GRAIN IS A DIAMOND WORTH GIVING A NAME.

SO THEY CALLED US KIDS.

WE CALLED OURSELVES THE REASON THIS NEIGHBORHOOD LIVES.

THE REASON YOU CAN CLEAR YOUR THROAT IN CONCERT AND ENJOY THE RIGHT TO BREATHE.

OUR PIGMENT, PERMANENT IN SILHOUETTES SO OUR STREET LAMPS NEVER HAVE TO LEAVE.

WE WERE A FRONT DOOR KINGDOM, COLLARD GREENS, OUR MOTHERS AWOKE US AT DAWN.

TOLD US TO WALK DOWN THE BLOCK, GIVEN ENOUGH MONEY FOR A COFFEE AND A KRISPY KREME.

AND IF I REMEMBERED TO BRINGING, MY MOTHER WOULD ALWAYS LOAN ME A WEEK.

TOP OF THE WORLD.

FOR AT LEAST THE -- >> WE'RE CLOSING NOW, THE LIBRARIAN SAID SOFTLY, PASSING QUIETLY ALONG THE POLISHED REFERENCE TABLES.

I LOVE THIS ROOM WITH ITS LONG TABLES AND STURDY OAK CHAIRS, THE QUIET SOAKS INTO ME.

I EVEN FEEL SMARTER HERE IN.

I GATHER MY BOOKS, TAKE THEM TO THE CHECKOUT, HAVE THEM STAMPED.

I STEP OUT INTO THE NIGHT, LEAVING BEHIND THE QUIET ELEGANT BEAUTY AS I CLOSE THE SHINY BRASS AND GLASS DOORS.

I WALK DOWN THE MARBLE STAIRS, LIKE A STAR ARRIVING AT A QUIET EVENT.

THE APRIL WIND IS SHARP.

I BREATHE THE DAMP AIR.

THE SMELL OF BOOKS, LOTS OF BOOKS PACKED TIGHTLY ON THEIR SHELVES, STILL IN MY LUNGS.

OLD SCHOLARS STILL TALKING TO ME.

IN PAPERY WHISPER.

I DECIDE TO WALK THE FLEW BLOCKS TO THAT PINK HOUSE NEXT TO MY MOTHER'S RESTAURANT.

THE SAME WAY I CAME.

DOWN THE LONG STAIRCASE, PAST THE St. PAUL MILL COMPANY AND UP CHESTNUT STREET.

I WALK SLOWLY, THINKING ABOUT THE LIBRARY BACK WHERE WE LIVED UNTIL FIVE YEARS AGO.

EVERY OTHER SATURDAY MORNING, I WOULD HEAR THE SLAP SLAP SLAP AGAINST THE WALL NEXT TO MY BED.

NEW BOOKS.

THE BARBER SHOP NEXT DOOR WAS THE TOWN LIBRARY.

ONE CASE NEXT TO THE WALL OF MIRRORS THAT REFLECTED EVERY MALE FACE IN TOWN ON A REGULAR BASIS.

THE BOOK MOBILE GUY WOULD PULL OLD BOOKS OFF THE SHELVES.

PUT NEW ONES IN.

THEN HEAD BACK TO MARSHALL 13 MILES AWAY.

I WOULD RUSH OVER EXCITED TO SEE WHAT HAD ARRIVED.

MAYBE A NEW NANCY DREW.

IT IS QUIET IN St. PAUL.

RICE PARK IS DESERTED EXCEPT FOR A FEW MEN WHO ARE STAKING OUT A BENCH FOR THE NIGHT.

I SMELL THE GREENNESS.

LOOK UP AT THE NIGHT SKY, SEARCHING FOR THE BLAZING STAR THAT WAS ALWAYS TO THE RIGHT OF THE WATER TOWER.

THERE ARE LOTS OF STARS, MANY OF THEM BRIGHT.

AND I HAVE LOST TRACK OF WHERE THE STARS SHOULD BE WITHOUT THE TOWER TO GUIDE ME.

THEN I AM HOME.

IT IS NOT QUIET.

MY MOTHER HAS GONE TO OUR LAKE CABIN FOR THE WEEKEND WITH MY LITTLE BROTHER, KENNY.

MY OLDER SISTER, KATHY, AND I BEG TO STAY HOME AND STUDY.

SO CLOSE, WE SAID.

KATHY IS NOT STUDYING.

THE HOUSE IS FILLED WITH TEENS DRINKING BEER, SLOW DANCING TO LOVE ME TENDER AND TALKING OR MAKING OUT ON THE FLOOR.

KIDS ARE EVERYWHERE.

IN THE HALL, IN THE KITCHEN.

POTATOES CHIPS -- POTATO CHIPS ARE EVERYWHERE SMASHED INTO THE CARPET AND PEOPLE ARE COMING IN THE FRONT DOOR, LOTS OF THEM.

GOOD THING I GOT MOST OF MY FINAL PAPER DONE AT THE LIBRARY.

THIS IS BEDLAM.

I KNOW THAT BRIGHT AND EARLY MONDAY MORNING, THE LADY DOWN THE STREET WILL TELL MY MOTHER WHAT WAS GOING ON TONIGHT AND WE WILL BOTH BE GROUNDED FOREVER.

MY SISTER KNOWS THAT, TOO, BUT SHE IS SURROUNDED BY 30 OR SO OF HER BEST FRIENDS.

WEARING HER TIGHTEST JEANS, LONG, DARK HAIR PULLED BACK INTO A PONYTAIL.

THEY'RE LOOKING AT RECORDS AND ARGUING ABOUT WHAT TO PLAY NEXT.

FAST OR SLOW.

SHE DOESN'T EVEN NOTICE ME.

I GREW UP -- I GO UP THE STAIRS HOLDING MY BOOKS AND PAPERS AND HEAD TO MY ROOM.

A BLONDE GUY IS COMING OUT OF THE BATHROOM, STUMBLING A BIT.

PULLING HIS HAIR INTO A DUCK TAIL AS HE WALKS.

HE LOOKS AT ME.

WHO ARE YOU, HE SAYS.

DO I KNOW YOU?

ME?

I LIVE HERE, I SAY.

I SLAM THE DOOR TO MY ROOM.

Cheers and applause >> Adia: HELLO, EVERYONE.

WE ARE BACK.

THOSE WERE GREAT VIDEOS.

I AM HERE WITH TACOUMBA.

>> HI.

>> Adia: AND I'M VERY EXCITED.

>> I'M VERY EXCITED.

>> Adia: GOOD.

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?

WHAT'S HAPPENING?

>> WE ARE TAKING OVER.

DON'T TELL ANYBODY THAT, BUT WE'RE TAKING OVER.

THIS IS A MURAL LIKE MANY THINGS THAT GO ON IN LOWER TOWN, WE DO A LOT OF THINGS.

THE TWIN CITIES, WE CREATE ART, WE USE ART FROM THE HEART.

THIS PIECE IS ACTUALLY CALLED I LOVE YOU.

THAT'S MANDARIN.

THIS IS AN ACT OF LOVE, THINGS THAT WE DO, THINGS THAT St. PAUL ALMANAC DO IN THE STORIES.

THIS IS ANOTHER PIECE, HOPEFULLY SOMEBODY GETS INSPIRED BY.

I'M ALREADY, LIKE, INSPIRED.

>> Adia: YEAH.

>> A LOT OF PEOPLE, WE'VE HAD A LOT OF PEOPLE COMING AND PAINTING, JUST COMING IN, PAINTING, THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT GETTING PAINT ON THEIR CLOTHES AND I'M NOT PAYING FOR IT IF THEY DO.

SO, YOU KNOW, IT'S BEEN KIND OF NICE, YOU KNOW.

AS A MATTER OF FACT, I'M GOING TO JUST -- HAVE YOU GRAB THIS BRUSH FOR ONE SECOND.

FIND A SPOT THERE.

YOU CAN DO A DOT OR A LINE OR SOMETHING.

OH, YEAH.

OH, YEAH.

SEE.

OH, OH, CAN'T STOP HER NOW.

THE BRUSH, THE BRUSH, THE BRUSH.

I WOULD LET YOU HAVE IT.

>> Adia: WELL, WHAT ARE YOU HOPING TO -- I MEAN -- YOU KIND OF TALKED ABOUT HOPING TO -- I LOVE YOU.

WHAT ARE YOU HOPING TO DO?

>> THE LIVE PAINTING IS FOR PEOPLE TO KNOW THAT WE'RE ALWAYS INTERMINGLED AND COMBINED AND ALL OF THAT.

WE BREATHE.

IT'S THE ACT OF BREATHING.

SO WE BREATHE TOGETHER SO WE CAN PAINT TOGETHER, WE CAN WORK TOGETHER, WE CAN WRITE TOGETHER.

SO I JUST WANTED PEOPLE TO BE ABLE TO SEE THAT NO MATTER, YOU CAN NOT DRAW OR DRAW, PAINT OR NOT PAINT, BUT WHAT YOU CAN DO IS SHARE AND BREATHE TOGETHER.

>> Adia: I LOVE THAT.

>> ADIA: OUR NEXT STORIES FEATURE TWO RADICALLY DIFFERENT ST. PAUL LOCATIONS.

THE FIRST, FROM AUTHOR MAY LEE YANG, EXPLORES CHILDHOOD MEMORIES SURROUNDING THE LONG CHENG LIVESTOCK MARKET IN SOUTH ST. PAUL.

THEN, WE'LL RELAX A BIT IN LOWERTOWN'S MEARS PARK WITH A POEM FROM MARTIN DEVANEY.

>> 13,200 DOLLARS THAT'S WHAT WE LIVED ON EVERY YEARMENT $850 IN CASH FROM THE COUNTY.

PLUS $250 IN FOOD STAMPS.

MY MOTHER EXPLAINED THE EXPENSES TO ME.

RENT.

$600.

ELECTRICITY, $120.

PHONE, $20.

SHE DOESN'T MENTION EXPENSES FOR THINGS LIKE SHAMPOO, CLOTHING, NOTEBOOKS AND OTHER THINGS.

WELL, WHAT ABOUT THE FOOD STAMPS, I ASK?

ONE PIG, $120.

A FEW CHICKENS, $30.

MISCELLANEOUS GROCERIES, $100.

THE PIG CAME STRAIGHT FROM THE SLAUGHTER HOUSE IN SOUTH St. PAUL.

MY MOTHER AND FATHER CUT IT UP AND THEN, PORK CHOPS, MEATS, RIBS, IN ZIP LOCK BAGS THAT WERE STORED IN THE CHEST FREEZER THAT WAS SQUEEZED INSIDE OUR KITCHEN.

EVEN WHEN WE LIVED IN THE TWO-BEDROOM APARTMENT, IT TRAVELED WITH US AND WAS HOUSED IN ONE OF THE BEDROOMS.

THE CHICKENS ARE WORTH, IF I'M LUCKY, THEY'VE ALREADY BEEN KILLED AND DRESSED BEFORE THEY COME HOME, SOMETIMES THEY COME HOME ALIVE.

IF THIS IS THE CASE, THEY TEMPORARILY LIVE IN OVERTURNED CARDBOARD BOX OR A BROWN PAPER BAG.

WHEN THE CHICKEN IS READY TO BE KILLED, MY MOTHER AND SOMEONE ELSE, USUALLY MY SISTER-IN-LAW, WILL MAKE A SPOT IN THE KITCHEN.

THERE IS A POT OF HOT WATER, A BOWL, A KNIFE, A TRASH CAN, NEWSPAPERS.

ONE PERSON HELD ONTO THE LEGS AND WINGS WHILE THE OTHER PERSON SLITS THE THROAT.

THE CHICKEN WAILS AS ITS BLOOD DRIPS INTO THE BOWL.

AFTER THE BLOOD-LETTING IS DONE, MY MOTHER DUMPS THE CHICKEN INTO THE POT OF HOT WATER AND PULLS OUT ITS FEATHERS.

I DIDN'T LIKE ESPECIALLY KILLED CHICKEN, THOUGH, THEY COULDN'T BE FRIED BECAUSE THE SKIN WAS TOO TOUGH.

DURING THE SUMMERS, WE HAD A GARDEN.

ONE YEAR IT WAS IN ROSEMOUNT.

ANOTHER YEAR IN LAKE ELMO.

OTHER YEARS, I DON'T REMEMBER.

AT THE GARDEN, WE SNAPPED GREEN BEANS OFF THEIR VINES FILLING WHITE BUCKETS TO THEIR BRIM.

ONE SUMMER, I REMEMBER EATING GREEN BEANS STIR FRY WITH PORK FOR ALMOST EVERY SINGLE MEAL.

BUT I WOULD BE LYING IF I MADE IT SEEM LIKE WE LIVED OFF THE SIDE OF THE LAND.

I MEAN, THERE WERE JOBS WE DID ON THE SIDE.

WHEN I WAS 12, MY MOTHER AND I WORKED AT THE FACTORIES ON THE WEEKEND.

WE ASSEMBLED FLOWER ARRANGEMENTS AND BOUQUETS THAT WERE SENT OFF TO LARGE GROCERY STORES LIKE CUB FOODS.

WHEN I WAS 13, A FEW TIMES DURING THE WINTER, WE'D GO TO THE CIVIC CENTER AT 10:30 OR 11:00 AT NIGHT TO SWEEP AND MOP THE SEATING SECTION.

AS WE ARRIVED, PEOPLE WERE ON THEIR WAY OUT OF HOCKEY GAMES AND I'D AVOID THEIR GAZE, AFRAID THAT MY CLASSMATES MIGHT BE AMONG THEM.

BY THE TIME I WAS 16, I WAS TIRED OF THESE JOBS.

I COULDN'T PUT ON MY RESUME.

TIRED OF SAYING NOTHING WHICH PEOPLE ASKED ME WHAT I DID ON THE WEEKEND.

TIRED OF SITTING IN THE LUNCHROOM EATING STICKY RICE AND FRIED FISH NEXT TO PEOPLE WHO WERE EATING SANDWICHES AND CHIPS.

TIRED OF HAVING JOBS WHERE NOBODY KNEW YOUR NAME AND DIDN'T CARE TO KNOW.

WHEN I WENT OFF TO COLLEGE, I GOT A JOB PHOTOCOPYING PAPERS FOR PROFESSORS.

AT 19, I STARTED WORKING AT A NONPROFIT AND I'VE STAYED THERE EVER SINCE.

SOMETIMES, MY MOTHER WILL CALL ME UP AND ASK IN MY ORGANIZATION HAS ANY JOB OPENINGS FOR MY BROTHERS.

WE DO, IT'S NOT LIKE YOU CAN JUST WORK THERE.

YOU NEED SKILLS, EXPERIENCE.

YOU JUST SIT AROUND ALL DAY, SHE ASKS?

YES.

THEY PAY YOU TO THINK?

YES.

WELL, HOW MUCH DO YOU MAKE?

WHEN I TOLD HER, SHE EXPLAINED THAT I MUST HAVE AT LEAST $10,000 SAVED UP.

EVEN THOUGH EDUCATION, EXPERIENCE, AND 16 YEARS OF WORK HISTORY ARE BUNDLED TOGETHER, I'M NOT TOO FAR FROM WHERE I STARTED WHEN I WAS 12 YEARS OLD.

>> WHEN I FIRST PUT MY ARM AROUND YOU, RED COATS AND AUTUMN HATS.

WE WALKED FROM THE FARMERS MARKET, BASIL IN HAND, ARM IN ARM.

THE DOG WAITED.

SO MUCH MUSIC HAS BEEN MADE, ECHOING THROUGH LOWER TOWN, THE SHADE OF THE STAGE AND THE WIND AND THE REEDS MADE SENSE OF THAT SATURDAY.

FINE CUP OF COFFEE CUT THROUGH FOGGY MINDS.

WE PUT OUR BLANKETS ON THE GRASS AND LISTENED.

LATER, ON ROCKY TERRAIN NEAR THE RIVER, WE LAUGHED AND CLIMBED AS WE CARRIED THE DOG.

WE LEFT THE BASIL BEHIND.

I HAD A FEELING EVERYTHING WAS GOING TO BE OKAY.

Cheers and applause >> Adia: WELCOME BACK, WELCOME BACK.

I AM HERE IN FRONT OF THIS BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL PIECE RIGHT HERE.

AND IT IS CALLED THE STORYMOBILE.

AND I AM HERE WITH TWO OF THE PEOPLE WHO ARE INVOLVED IN THIS.

MARK COLLINS AND SAY JAMES.

DID I GET IT RIGHT?

ALL RIGHT.

WELL, FIRST OF ALL, LET ME ASK YOU ALL, LAMAR, CAN YOU GIVE US A QUICK TOUR OF THIS?

>> YES.

THE STORYMOBILE IS A STRUCTURE, IT IS DECKED OUT, IT HAS A TV, FOUR iPADS WITH SOLAR ROOF, IT HAS WRITING UTENSILS INSIDE OF IT, YOU CAN GET RECORDED, VIDEO RECORDED OR YOU CAN TYPE IT THROUGH THE BACK, HE'S PANNING AROUND THERE.

AND, YEAH.

>> Adia: AWESOME.

ALL RIGHT.

OH, YEAH, WHAT'S THIS VIDEO SCREEN RIGHT HERE?

>> OH, THIS IS THE TV.

IT HAS A SLIDE SHOW GROWING AT THE MOMENT OF US RIDING IT AROUND THE CITY, THE St. PAUL AREA.

I THINK IT HAS A COUPLE OF PICTURES OF US BUILDING IT THAT ARE UNATTRACTIVE.

BUT, YEAH, THIS IS A QUICK SLIDE SHOW.

>> Adia: VERY COOL.

>> IT'S STUCK.

I THINK IT'S ON PAUSE ACTUALLY.

THAT'S WHAT THAT IS.

>> Adia: FOR A LITTLE WHILE.

THAT'S ALL RIGHT.

IT'S A BEAUTIFUL PICTURE.

SAY, SO TELL US A LITTLE BIT ABOUT THE BUILDING AND DESIGN PROCESS?

>> SO FIRST WE SAW DRAWINGS OF WHAT IT MIGHT HAVE LOOKED LIKE, AND THEN WE STARTED BUILDING OUT OF A FOAM BOARD AND WE DID IT, LIKE, LIFE-SIZE AND THEN WE FINALLY PICTURED HOW IT WAS.

AND WE ACTUALLY HAVE A VIDEO OF US TRYING TO GET IT DOWNSTAIRS, JUST THE FOAM, AND THAT WAS EVEN HARD, AND WE WERE, LIKE, HOW ARE WE GOING TO GET THIS DOWN?

BUT WE MANAGED.

AND WE STARTED BUILDING THIS.

AND WHEN WE SAW IT, IT JUST CAME TOO REAL TO US AND WE WERE REALLY EXCITED TO TRY IT OUT.

>> Adia: THAT'S AWESOME.

SO HOW CAN PEOPLE RECORD THEIR STORIES?

WHO WANTS TO TAKE THAT ONE?

>> YOU HAVE THREE OPTIONS.

YOU CAN GET VIDEO RECORDED, YOU CAN WRITE IT ON A NOTEPAD, OR YOU CAN TYPE IT ON AN IPAD.

>> Adia: OKAY.

WHAT HAPPENS TO THE STORIES AFTER THEY'RE RECORDED?

>> THEY GO STRAIGHT TO THE St. PAUL PUBLIC LIBRARY AND THEY ARE ARCHIVED ON A HARD DRIVE.

>> Adia: FOREVER AND EVER.

>> FOREVER AND EVER.

>> Adia: VERY COOL.

AND WHERE WILL WE SEE STORYMOBILE?

WHEN IS IT HAPPENING AND WHERE?

>> WE HAVE A SCHEDULE, WE'RE GOING TO BE AROUND A LOT, WE MIGHT BE JUST RIDING DOWN, CATCH US IF YOU WANT TO TELL US A STORY, AND WE'LL BE AT A LOT OF SPECIAL EVENTS AROUND HERE.

>> Adia: VERY COOL, THANK YOU, ALL OF YOU, WHO ARE WEARING THE LOVELY T-SHIRTS, WHO ARE INVOLVED, I'M GUESSING, YEAH.

GOOD, ALL RIGHT.

WELL, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THAT INTRO.

I AM EXCITED TO SEE IT.

IT'S WINTER AGAIN IN OUR NEXT PIECE.

A SHORT POEM FROM WRITER LOUISE DESANTO AS WE CELEBRATE THE GREAT MINNESOTA PASTIME, HOCKEY.

AND WE'LL HEAR FROM PATRICIA ANITA YOUNG AS WE HEAR STORIES OF HER FATHER WHO WORKED AS A RED CAB PORTER.

RED CAP PORTER.

>> LIFE MAGAZINE FOR SHIN GUARDS.

SKATES TOO BIG, STICK CRACKED AND OLD.

JACKET PATCHED AND AT THAT TATTERED.

I IGNORED THE SMIRKS AT WINTER'S COLD.

LOVE OF HOCKEY IS ALL THAT MATTERED.

>> MY DAD, JAMES MELVIN YOUNG, SR., BECAME THE SECOND GENERATION RED CAP PORTER WHEN HIS UNCLE, WILLIAM A.

YOUNG, RETIRED CIRCA 1949.

MELVIN WAS 23 YEARS OLD WHEN THE St. PAUL UNION DEPOT WAS THE GATEWAY TO THE WORLD.

WORKING THERE WAS A SPARK THAT IGNITED MY DAD'S LOVE FOR WORLD TRAVEL.

THERE WERE APPROXIMATELY 36 RED CAP PORTERS ALL AFRICAN AMERICAN.

THEIR RED CAPS BECAME SYNONYMOUS WITH INTEGRITY AND RELIABILITY.

THEIR WORK WAS DEMANDING.

MY DAD SAYS.

ONE MINUTE I WAS MOPPING FLOORS IN THE HEAD HOUSE.

THE NEXT MINUTE I WAS RACING UP THE CONCOURSE TO MEET PASSENGERS AND CARRY THEIR BAGS.

THEN I'D RETURN TO THE HEAD HOUSE TO TRIM HEDGES, SHINE PATRONS' SHOES OR THE BRASS HANDLES ON THE ENTRANCE DOORS, WASH WINDOWS, OPERATE THE ELEVATOR, LICENSE REQUIRED, OR PARK CARS.

DAD READ THE NEWSPAPER DAILY TO BE PREPARED FOR THE UNLIMITED QUESTIONS THAT TRAVELERS ASKED.

WHERE IS THE CONVENTION CENTER?

WHERE IS THIS EVENT BEING HELD?

THERE ARE PLEASANT RECOLLECTIONS, MY DAD SAYS.

THE ARTWORK ON THE CONCOURSE CEILING WAS MY FAVORITE PART OF THE DEPOT.

THE MEN PLAYED CHECKERS IN THEIR LOCKER ROOM, ON THEIR LUNCH BREAK.

SOMETIMES THEY PULLED THEIR -- POOLED THEIR MONEY TO HELP SOMEONE IN THE DEPOT OUT OF A BAD SITUATION.

THERE ARE PAINFUL MEMORIES, TOO.

THE RED CAPS WERE NOT IMMUNE FROM THE RACIAL ISSUES OF THE TIME.

DAD FOCUSED ON WHAT HE COULD CHANGE.

TRAVELING THE WORLD BECAME HIS COLLEGE WITHOUT WALLS.

HE FULFILLED A DREAM TO PROVE THAT NO MATTER WHAT COLOR SKIN A PERSON MIGHT HAVE, MOST PEOPLE ARE HONORABLE, EMPATHETIC AND DESERVING.

I NICKNAMED HIM THE PEACEMAKER.

HE RODE THE RAILS FROM St. PAUL TO NEW JERSEY TO WASHINGTON STATE, CALIFORNIA TO QUEBEC THROUGH THE DEEP SOUTH AND EVERY STATE IN BETWEEN.

MY DAD'S PASSION FOR TRAVEL ALL BEGAN AT THE St. PAUL UNION DEPOT.

HE AIMED BEYOND WHAT HE SAW WITH A CHILD-LIKE ANTICIPATION AND A DETERMINATION TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.

JAMES J. HILL, RAILROAD BUILDER AND CHILD SUMNER FROST, ARCHITECT, DREAMED OF CONNECTING St. PAUL TO THE REST OF OUR NATION.

THEIR VISION SPARKED JAMES MELVIN YOUNG TO MAKE NEW FRIENDS IN EVERY CORNER OF THE WORLD.

DAD AND MOM, LOIS, ARE NOW RETIRED AND CONTINUE TO TRAVEL.

MAY THE St. PAUL UNION DEPOT NURTURE DREAMS COME TRUE FOR TRAVELERS FOR GENERATIONS TO COME.

ALL ABOARD.

Applause Cheers and applause >> LAST RESORT.

I AM TRAPPED HERE IN A SECOND-RATE BODY.

I, ME, WITH A PROPER ADDRESS AND THE APPEARANCE OF A DECENT BANK BALANCE, TRAPPED HERE UNDER THE VERY BRIGHT LIGHTS OF THIS SPECTACULAR FRIDAY NIGHT SHOW.

ATTENTION, OVER HERE!

I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THAT I'M TERRIBLY SORRY IF I'VE VISUALLY ASSAULTED YOU.

I WANT TO EXPLAIN.

I'M SOMEWHAT SURE THAT I FOLLOWED MOST OF THE RULES BUT DO YOU KNOW IF YOU WANT TO HAVE YOUR CAKE, YOU MUST EAT IT.

Laughter Cheers and applause >> ADIA: THANK YOU, CAROL!

OUR NEXT STORY COMES TO US FROM AUTHOR NIMO FARAH AND IS FOCUSED ON MEMORIES FROM THE SKYLINE TOWERS IN ST. PAUL.

SPEAKING WORLD LANGUAGE >> MY MOM, SCREAMING STANDING AT THE DOOR OF HER MINNEAPOLIS HOME.

I WHINE, YOU CAN'T RUSH TEA, YOU KNOW THAT.

IT'S GOING TO BE A LONG DAY AND I NEED TEA TO KEEP ME GOING.

EVERY SUNDAY I'M DICTATED SOMALI STORIES AND HER LADY RELATIVES AND FRIENDS.

MY ROLES ARE WELL DEFINED, I'M THE DRIVER AND A TEA MAKER.

AND IF ANY OF MY EXTENDED RELATIVES NEED HELP WITH TRANSLATIONS AND FILLING OUT PAPERWORK, I'M GOOD FOR THAT, TOO.

OUR FINAL SUNDAY DESTINATION IS MAMA'S APARTMENT ON THE NINTH FLOOR OF THE PLACE WE CALL THE TITANIC, WHICH REALLY IS THE SKYLINE TOWERS IN St. PAUL.

TALL AND HAVE I BEEN FROM HIGHWAY 9 -- VISIBLE AT HIGHWAY 94 IS TRULY A VILLAGE IN THE SKY.

MANY EAST AFRICANS PREDOMINANTLY ETHIOPIANS AND SOMALIS RESIDE THERE.

MAMA WESTON IS AN ELDERLY AUNT WHO IS A PROMINENT BUSINESSWOMAN IN SOMALIA.

SHE DOESN'T LIKE ANYONE MAKING TEA BESIDES ME AND SAYS I HAVE A SWEET TEA-MAKING HAND.

IF I COULD, I WOULD LIVE IN A CUP OF SWEET SOMALI TEA.

EVEN THOUGH MAMA WESTON IS 83 YEARS OLD, SHE HAS A GIRLISH LAUGH AND A YOUNG GENEROUS SPIRIT THAT BRINGS EVERYONE TOGETHER.

SHE SAYS I BRING OUT THE YOUNG GIRL INSIDE OF HER, AND I THINK SHE'S THE MOST ELEGANT WOMAN I HAVE EVER MET.

AS USUAL, THE TITANIC TELECOM IS BROKEN SO SOMEONE HAS TO COME DOWN TO LET US IN.

AND THE ELEVATOR IS SLOW.

WHILE WE WAIT, I GET A CALL ON MY MOBILE PHONE FROM MAMA WESTON, SHE TELLS ME TO GO BUY TEA INGREDIENTS FROM THE GROCERY STORE ACROSS THE STREET.

IN THE STORE, I GATHER CINNAMON, GINGER, CARD MEN, LIPTON TEA BAGS, CLOVE.

NORMALLY I ASK THE CASHIER TO WRITE THE BILL ON MAMA WESTON'S PAGE IN THE TAB BOOK, BUT TODAY I HAVE A LITTLE CASH SO I PAY.

MAMA WESTON APARTMENT IS FURNISHED, IMPORTED CUSHION AND TURKISH CARPET UNTIL THE LATE EVENING.

MINGLE WITH THEIR SCENT OF THE SPICY TEA, WE CELEBRATE, SING, DANCE, CHANT AWAY THEIR WORRIES.

BOILING AND BEING SERVED.

THE DOOR TO MAMA WESTON'S WILL REMAIN OPEN.

SOME TIME AGO, A RUMOR SPREAD THAT THE SKYLINE TOWER HAD REACHED AN EXPIRATION DATE AND WAS ABOUT TO COLLAPSE.

THE RUMOR GOT PEOPLE SO FRIGHTENED THAT THEY SHOWED UP TO THE NEXT MEETING, WHICH NONE OF THEM HAD ATTENDED BEFORE.

AN AMERICAN WOMAN WHO WORKS THERE STOOD UP TO GREET THE RESIDENTS.

WE ARE SURPRISED BY THIS ATTENDANCE.

NORMALLY WE HAVE AN AGENDA, BUT THIS EVENING WE WANT TO LISTEN TO YOUR CONCERNS AND ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS.

AN ELDERLY SOMALI WOMAN STOOD UP, CLEARED HER THROAT.

IMITATING AND BEGAN SPEAKING.

LIVED IN THIS BUILDING TEN YEARS.

COME St. PAUL, LIVE HERE.

NOW, ME, FRIENDS, FAMILY, SCARED.

WE ARE HERE BECAUSE WE HEAR STORIES THE BUILDING GO DOWN SOOFN.

LIKE TITANIC GO DOWN, THE TALL BUILDING GO DOWN SOON.

WE'RE AFRAID OF SLEEP LIKE TITANIC, WE DIE, FINISH.

SORRY ENGLISH BROKEN, BUT ME HAS TO SPEAK FOR SELF BECAUSE ME SCARED.

UNDERSTAND?

EVERYONE APPLAUDED IN AGREEMENT WITH HER.

IT TURNED OUT THAT BECAUSE THE ELEVATORS HAD BEEN GETTING SLOWER AND SLOWER, PEOPLE'S FEARS TURNED INTO STORIES AND RUMORS OF COLLAPSE.

SINCE THAT DAY, SOMALIS THE BUILDING HAS BEEN CALLED THE TITANIC TOWER.

EVERY SUNDAY THE TITANIC, A VILLAGE IN St. PAUL, KEEPS ME CONNECTED TO SOMALIA.

Cheers and applause >> ADIA: WE DEAL WITH SOME TOUGH ISSUES IN THE NEXT TWO STORIES FROM AUTHORS ELENA CISNEROS AND ADRIAN SCHRAMM.

TAKE A LOOK.

>> GOING BACK TO THE RESERVATION, ACROSS THE SMALL BRIDGE INTO St. PAUL.

I FEEL THE TROUBLED WATERS.

I THINK OF MY GRANDFATHER'S PEOPLE, THE DAKOTA.

I THINK OF HOW THEY LIVED BY THE WATER.

BY THE -- HOW THEY MADE FIRE BY THE WATER.

I THINK OF HOW MY PEOPLE, THE DAKOTA, MY FAMILY, WERE TAKEN TO FORT SNELLING PRISON.

I THINK OF MANY, MY FAMILY, EVERY TIME I COME INTO St. PAUL AND SEE THE HISTORIC SITE.

I THINK ABOUT THE -- THINK OF HOW MY FAMILY WATCHED THEIR PEOPLE HANG ALTOGETHER.

THE LIGHTS REFLECTING.

HEAR THEM.

THE TIRES SCREECHING, HORNS HONKING, DISTRACT ME.

ANOTHER HISTORIC SITE, FORT SNELLING AHEAD.

ALL I HAVE IS DIRTY WATER UNDER A BRIDGE.

I DON'T HAVE THEIR VOICES.

I DON'T HAVE THEIR WORDS.

SO I DRIVE INTO St. PAUL AND PARK MY CAR, WALK AMONGST THE COLD LEAVES BACK TO MY APARTMENT BUILDING.

I MANAGE A SMALL PLACE.

>> ON A WARM AFTERNOON, LAY MAY, A YELLOW St. PAUL SCHOOL BUS HUFS AND PUFFS DOWN RESIDENTIAL STREETS.

KIDS, NOISY ON THEIR WAY HOME.

KIDS EXCITED BECAUSE IT'S ALMOST SUMMER AND SOON SCHOOL WILL BE OUT.

I AM 6 YEARS OLD.

SCRAWNY AND LOUD-MOUTHED, ALMOST 7.

I HAVE ONE FRIEND ON THE BUS AND HIS NAME IS AARON.

AARON McKINLEY.

McKINLEY, LIKE THE PRESIDENT.

McKINLEY, LIKE THE MOUNTAIN.

HE'S A BEST FRIEND, ONE WHO SHARES HIS SANDWICH WITH ME AT LUNCHTIME.

WE ENJOY THE BUS RIDE HOME TOGETHER, TALKING ABOUT CARTOONS AND SUPERHEROES.

THEY SAY EVERY SCHOOL HAS A BULLY.

I DON'T KNOW IF THAT'S TRUE, BUT OUR SCHOOL SURE DOES.

A BIG, MEAN KID WITH A BOWL CUT AND SCAR RUNNING DOWN HIS CHEEK.

HE RIDES MY BUS TO AND FROM SCHOOL AS WELL.

EVERY DAY THE VOICE IN THE BACK SEAT CAN BE HEARD OVER ALL THE OTHERS.

LAUGHTER, SILENCE.

HIS NAME IS JOE.

NO LAST NAME, JUST JOE.

ON THIS ONE AFTERNOON, JOE WAS PICKING ON AARON.

CALLING HIM NAMES, HITTING HIM WITH A SHARP METAL EDGE OF A RURAL.

I SAY, CUT IT OUT.

RULER.

AND THE BULLY'S EYES TURNED TO ME.

I KNOW THOSE EYES, BLACK, LIKE A SHARK'S GOING IN FOR THE KILL.

JOE TACKLES ME, POUNDING MY SMALL STOMACH AND RIB CAGE FRAGILE LIKE TOOTHPICKS.

MY HEAD BEATS REPEATEDLY AGAINST THE WINDOW BEHIND ME.

I'M 6 YEARS OLD.

SCRAWNY.

I HAVE A BIG MOUTH.

THE BUS DOESN'T SEEM SO LOUD ANYMORE.

THE BEATING STOPS SUDDENLY AND JOE IS AGAIN AT THE BACK OF THE BUS.

THE OTHER KIDS MOVE OUT OF THE WAY FOR HIM AND STARTING TO WISH I HAD DONE THE SAME.

BUT I RESPECT -- BUT THEY RESPECT HIM, I WONDER WHY I DON'T.

DEFEATED, VANQUISHED, BLEEDING AT THE FRONT OF THE BUS.

AARON LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW.

HE WATCHES TREES AND HOUSES ROLL BY.

HE DOESN'T LOOK AT ME.

HE IGNORES ME AND RESPECTS JOE.

MY NOSE IS STILL BLEEDING AS I GET OFF AT MY STOP AND THE BUS DRIVER HASN'T EVEN NOTICED.

SEE YOU TOMORROW.

I RUN HOME.

BURSTING INTO THE KITCHEN OUT OF STRESS WITH WET CHEEKS AND RED EYES, THE NINJA TURTLE BACKPACK SLIDES FROM MY SHOULDERS AND I LET IT HIT THE FLOOR.

I'M NOT CRYING AS MY MOTHER COMES IN TO ASK HOW MY DAY IS.

SHE CAN TELL SOMETHING IS WRONG.

SHE ASKED WHAT HAPPENED?

WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR NOSE?

I GET A HUG, PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICH, MY MOTHER IS A SUPERHERO, ALWAYS HAS A SNACK, JUICE BOX, COLD GLASS OF MILK TO WASH IT OUT.

I SEE AARON THE NEXT MODERN ARE MORNING ON THE SCHOOL BUS.

HE GIVES ME A FRUIT ROLLUP.

I SAY, AARON, MY MOM IS COOLER THAN YOU.

IS SHE COOLER THAN BATMAN?

YEAH.

YEARS LATER AS MY MOTHER LIES ON A STERILIZED WHITE BED IN A HOSPITAL ROOM THAT SMELLS OF MEDICATION AND CHLOROFORM, I THINK THINK ABOUT THAT DAY.

IT'S 2004, I'M NOT 6 YEARS OLD ANYMORE.

I'M 16 NOW, ALMOST 17.

IT'S MY TURN TO TAKE CARE OF HER, ALTHOUGH THERE'S NO WAY I CAN SUCCEED.

I AM NO ANGEL, NO POWER RANGER.

MY MOTHER'S BEING BULLIED NOW AND THERE'S NOTHING I CAN DO.

BULLIED BY LEUKEMIA.

NO LAST NAME, JUST LEUKEMIA.

I SAY, CUT IT OUT.

BUT THE BULLY IGNORES ME.

I AM NO SUPERHERO.

I THINK OF THE LOUD-MOUTH FIRST GRADER WHO THOUGHT HE COULD STAND UP FOR HIS FRIEND.

I THINK OF THE QUEEN OF THE KITCHEN LYING THERE.

I WISH PRESIDENT McKINLEY WOULD BRING ME A FRUIT ROLLUP AND A JUICE BOX.

I WISH I HAD THE STRENGTH OF A THOUSAND PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY SANDWICHES.

I WISH MY MOTHER COULD COME BACK TO THE KITCHEN WHERE A HUG AND A SNACK COULD MAKE EVERYTHING OKAY.

Cheers and applause >> WE NEVER REACH OUR FAULTS AT FIRST GLANCE.

WE TRY TO ACHIEVE STANDARDS, NEVER CREATED BY US.

STANDARDS AIMED TO DEFEAT US.

WE'VE BEEN PROGRAMMED TO NEVER BE COMFORTABLE IN OUR OWN SKIN.

SEE OURSELVES LESS THAN.

SEE OUR LIVES AS SIN.

WE PLANT SO MUCH IN US, WE'RE NEVER CERTAIN OF OUR POTENTIAL BECAUSE FEAR HAS BEEN BEAT INTO US TILL IT BECOMES INNATE, MAKING IT EASIER TO WANT THINGS THAT ARE NEVER AT OUR REACH.

WHAT OUR PALATES NEVER SAVIOR, LABOR, NEVER TASTED.

SO WE TASTE PARADISE, PASTE THEM LIKE THE WINNING LOTTERY TICKETS, TASTE THEM LIKE THEY ARE ANSWERS BEHIND THE WHITE PICKET FENCES.

BLINDED BY LIES.

BLINDED BY TRUCE.

WE'VE SEEN THEIR REFLECTIONS, OUR SKIN TONE FAULTS ASSOCIATED WITH OUR COMPLEC ON, BEHINDED I -- BLINDED BY THE MISSING ACTION OF HOPE.

COMPLEXION.

THAT WE FORGET TO SEE WHAT'S AROUND US, WHAT MAKES US.

THE PERSEVERING PEOPLE WE ARE.

THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE WE ARE.

WHAT WE WILL BE.

WHAT WE CAN BE.

OUR PARADISE DOES NOT RESIDE IN CLOUDS.

WE BUILD IT WITH OUR OWN STORIES, WITH OUR FLINT TONGUES, WHO SPITFIRE AND GIVE BIRTH TO THE FLAMES THAT FUEL US.

THAT GUIDE US AS WE BUILD WHAT ONCE WAS FORGOTTEN.

OUR PARADISE NEEDS NOT TO BE CHASED, IT NEEDS TO BE BUILT WITH OUR OWN BRICKS AND WE START THIS PARADISE WITH YOUR VOICE.

Cheers and applause >> THE WOODS AT HIDDEN FALLS ECHOED WITH THE CRUNCH OF BOOTS AND THE SNAPPING OF DRY STICKS.

HOW MUCH LONGER, MY YOUNG SON, JOHN BUSINESS WANTED TO KNOW.

MY DAUGHTER DANIELLE WAS IMPATIENT, TOO.

WHAT DID YOU SAY WE WERE LOOKING FOR?

YES, MY BRIDE, RACHEL JOINED IN, WHAT IS IT EXACTLY?

SOMETHING YOU'LL NEVER SEE AGAIN.

I SAID.

IT WAS 1994.

AND I WAS LURING MY KIDS OUT INTO THE COLD TO SHOW THEM SOMETHING REMARKABLE.

WE CAME TO A CLEARING.

OUR BREATH FROSTING UP BEFORE US.

IT'S HERE.

I ANNOUNCED.

THERE WAS NO SOUND BUT THE GENTLE POOF OF SNOW CLUMPS LANDING.

THEN JOHN CRIED OUT.

I SEE IT!

HE POINTED UP INTO THE LOWER REACHES OF A COTTONWOOD.

THERE, ABOUT TEN FEET UP, WAS A RUSTED BICYCLE.

IT WAS NOT SITTING IN A BRANCH.

RATHER, THE BRANCH HAD GROWN AROUND THE BICYCLE.

THE RIDING BAR WAS ENCLOSED IN WOOD.

WOW, DANIELLE SAID.

I CAME ACROSS IT A FEW DAYS EARLIER.

WALKING THE DOG.

I PASSED THAT SPOT A HUNDRED TIMES AND NEVER NOTICED.

WHO LOOKS UP IN CASE THERE'S A BICYCLE IN A TREE?

BASED ON THE CORROSION, I GUESSED THE BICYCLE HAD BEEN IN THE TREE FOR 40 YEARS.

IT WAS ALL RUSTED EXCEPT FOR THE BLUE FRAME.

THE FOUR OF US WERE GIDDY AT THE IDEA OF A BICYCLE GROWING IN A TREE.

DID SOMEONE LEAN IT AGAINST THE TREE AND THE TREE SLOWLY REACHED OUT AND LIFTED IT UP AN INCH A YEAR?

UP INTO THE SKY.

OR DID SOMEONE JUST THROW IT UP THERE?

AND THE TREE GRABBED ONTO IT.

AND ABSORBED IT IN ITS WOOD.

DID THE BIKE THINK IT WAS FLYING?

DID THE TREE THINK IT WAS RIDING?

EVERYONE AGREED, WE SHOULD KEEP OUR EYES PEELED FOR OTHER ANOMALIES.

THEY MUST BE EVERYWHERE, WE REASONED.

BUT THE NEXT TIME I CAME TO THE CLEARING, IN SPRING, BY MYSELF, NOT ONLY WAS THE BICYCLE GONE, SO WAS THE TREE.

OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF YEARS, I GENTLY OBSESSED ABOUT FINDING THAT BIKE.

SOMETIMES I THOUGHT I GLIMPSED IT.

BUT IT WAS JUST A CURL OF RIVER BANK VINE.

PRETENDING TO BE REAL.

OR THE COLOR OF ROT, PRETENDING TO BE RUST.

WHAT THE EARTH LIFTED UP, IT THEN TOOK BACK.

EVERYTHING WAS IN ON IT, EVERY FALLING LEAF HID IT.

EVERY CLUMP OF SNOW COVERED IT UP.

EVERY FOOT FALL SANK IT DEEPER INTO THE GROUND.

IT ALL GOES.

MY CHILDREN ARE GROWN.

AND ONE OF THEM IS GONE.

BUT IN 1994, WE SAW A BICYCLE RIDE THROUGH THE SKY.

ITS WHEELS STILL TURNING IN A BREEZE FROM UP THE RIVER.

NAYING NEIGHING CHEERS >> Adia: WE ARE BACK IN THE STUDIO.

AND IT LOOKS LIKE THIS IS ALMOST MAYBE POSSIBLY STILL IN PROGRESS.

DONE.

Laughter >> RIGHT.

YOU GOT ME.

THAT'S RIGHT.

>> Adia: YEAH, IT WAS GOING TO BE A BIG REVEAL BUT I DON'T THINK THAT ART IS EVER FINISHED, MAYBE.

>> EXACTLY.

>> Adia: YEAH.

>> EXACTLY.

>> Adia: WELL, WE'VE BEEN ON A LONG JOURNEY OF ARE YOU GOING TONIGHT?

TONIGHT OUR FINAL STORY COMES TO US FROM WRITER SIMOUKDA VONGSAY, AND IS APPROPRITAELY TITLED FINDING HOME.

>> MY MOM SAID THEY ALREADY KNEW THAT THE COMMUNIST SOLDIERS WERE ON THEIR WAY TO THE FATHER'S HOUSE.

BECAUSE HE WAS A PROVINCIAL GOVERNOR, HE WAS ONE OF THE FIRST ON THEIR LIST.

THEY HAD MANY LISTS.

MY MOTHER NEVER TOLD ME MORE THAN THAT.

SADLY, WHEN THE FLOODING OF MEMORIES SLOWED HER BREATHING, SO THE STORIES THAT I DON'T KNOW I IMAGINE.

I IMAGINE THAT I WAS IN MY MOTHER'S BELLY WHEN THEY WERE HEADING TOWARDS THE RIVER.

MY BROTHER WAS ABOUT A YEAR AND A HALF.

THEY SAID HE WAS A GOOD BABY, NEVER CRIED.

THEY DIDN'T DRAG HIM WITH -- DRUG HIM WITH OPIUM AS THE OTHERS HAD BEEN.

SOME OF THE CHILDREN NEVER WOKE UP AND WERE BURIED ALONG THE WAY.

LIKE BREAD CRUMBS IN A MESSED-UP FAIRY TALE, REMINDING THEM HOW TO FIND THEIR HOMES AGAIN.

I FELT MY MOTHER'S HEART BEGIN TO PUMP FAST WHEN THEY REACHED THE RIVER.

INSTINCTIVELY, I REACHED UPWARDS AND MASSAGED IT WITH MY TRANSPARENT HAND.

SHE NEVER LEARNED HOW TO SWIM, HAVING BEEN RAISED IN THE CITY.

NOT LIKE MY FATHER, WHO WAS RAISED IN THE COUNTRYSIDE AND HAD SWUM THIS RIVER BEFORE.

SO HE WASN'T AFRAID.

HE'S NEVER AFRAID.

EVEN WHEN HE PASSED THE DIRT ROAD TO ASK FOR MY MOTHER'S HAND IN MARRIAGE.

EVEN WHEN EVERYONE ON BOTH SIDES SAID IT WAS A BAD IDEA, A COUNTRY PUMPKIN AND A GOVERNOR'S DAUGHTER, BUT HERE THEY ARE, EVERYONE FROM BOTH SIDES STANDING IN FRONT OF THE RIVER, ESCAPING TO THE SAME PLACE.

COUNTRY BUMPKIN.

MY MOTHER SAID, DUMP THAT PLASTIC BAG.

TO HELP THEM CROSS THE RIVER BECAUSE THEY COULDN'T SWIM.

ALONG THE SHORE, ON THE LAO SIDE, HUSBANDS INFLATED BAGS AS FAST AS THEY COULD FOR THEIR WIVES.

WHO CARRIED THEIR BREABS ON THEIR BACK.

-- BABIES ON THEIR BACK.

IN THE MUDDY RIVER, BLACK HEADS SOBBING, BLACK PLASTIC BAGS KEEPING BLACK HEADS FROM DROWNING, KEEPING BLACK HEADS ABOVE WATER.

SOMETIMES PEOPLE DIDN'T MAKE IT ACROSS AND GOT TAKEN AWAY BY THE CURRENT.

BUT, STILL, THEY HELD ONTO THEIR BAGS, AFRAID OF DROWNING.

SOME HUSBANDS GAVE THEMSELVES TO THE UNSYMPATHETIC RIVER TO HELP THEIR WIVES, SOME BLAMED THEMSELVES FOR NOT INFLATING THE BAGS BETTER.

ALONG THE SHORE, ON THE THAILAND SIDE, HUSBAND HUGS THE ONES THAT MADE IT WHILE OTHERS FELL ON THEIR KNEES WITH GRIEF.

MY FATHER DIDN'T HAVE A PLASTIC BAG.

HE SWAM MY MOTHER ACROSS.

MY BROTHER TIED HIGH ON HIS BACK.

AND ME STILL IN HER BELLY.

MASSAGING HER HEART WITH MY HANDS.

>> MY WORD FOR St. PAUL IS SOAR, BECAUSE I THINK IF YOU LOOK AT ALL THE THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING IN THE CITY RIGHT NOW, WE ARE NUMBER ONE BECAUSE WE'RE NUMBER ONE IN EDUCATION, MAKING SURE ALL OF OUR KIDS LEARN AND SUCCEED.

WE'RE NUMBER ONE IN FANTASTIC BEER, WHICH, OF COURSE, MAKES EVERYTHING ELSE BETTER.

WE'VE GOT THE LIGHT RAIL.

WE'VE GOT THE PASSENGER RAIL.

WE'VE GOT ALL KINDS OF THINGS.

WHEN YOU PUT ALL OF THOSE THINGS THAT ARE HAPPENING TOGETHER, St. PAUL SOARS.

Cheers and applause >> BEFORE I WAS BORN, THERE WAS MOVEMENT.

PADDLES PUSHING PENT-UP PEOPLE THROUGH OCEANS OF PAIN.

THAT EXPLAINS MY FEAR OF WATER.

WHEN I WAS BORN, THERE WAS MOVEMENT STILL.

LINES, PATHS, ROADS, CIRCLES, AND TRACKS.

CHECK IT.

I HAD MY FIRST PERM IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, WITH MY COARSE CURLY BLACK HAIR TO STRAIGHT THIN.

THEN WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, BRAIDS, WEAVES, EXTENSIONS, DUCK TAIL DESIGN ON THE SIDE TYPE THING BUT BEFORE THAT I ALSO WORE TRACKS.

HIGH SCHOOL, St. PAUL CENTURY, BASEMENT BUILDING, KIND OF LOOKS LIKE A PRISON, KIND OF RAN LIKE ONE, TOO.

THE FIFTH FLOOR WAS FOR THE ACADEMIC ACRONYMS, LIKE A.P.

AND I.B., THE FOURTH FLOOR WAS FOR THE QUEST LEARNERS, SECOND TO IT IS BEST GRADE POINT AVERAGE EARNERS, THE THIRD WAS WHATEVER, THE SECOND WAS PASSED AND THE FIRST WAS US, THE THEATER CLASS.

HOW WE WERE PLACED IN THIS SYSTEM TRACKS.

MY NAME IS TISH JONES AND I'VE BEEN CALLED HER HERE TO REPRESENT ANCESTORS, AS HE PLAYS IN THE SAND WHO BLESSED HIM.

RAISED MEN TO RAISE MEN, HENCE, THE SUN AND THE RAYS.

A GENERATION OF BEAUTIFUL BLACK WOMEN, BORN AND BRED TO BELIEVE THAT BEAUTY BELONGS TO EVERYBODY BUT THEM.

THEY DIE, THEY TRY TO FIT IN IN MANY WAYS, TRACKS ON THEIR THIGHS.

AND SHE IS ALL RIGHT WITH THAT.

THEY CALL HER A RUNNER.

MAKING LAPS ON LAPS, KNOWN AS A TRACK STAR, SHE ALSO ALSO RIGHT ON TRACK.

THEN THERE'S THE LITTLE BOY WHOSE FATHER WAS SENT AWAY YESTERDAY.

YOU SEE, HE'S HAVING A BAD DAY.

SO HE ANSWERED THE TEST QUESTIONS IN THE WRONG WAY.

YEAH, HE'S IN THE HALLWAY, FRUSTRATED, FIGHTING TO KEEP HIS TEARS TO HIMSELF.

SHE WALKS BY.

SMART.

SKINNY.

MAKES FAILING A TEST SEEM HARD.

IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, PEEK AT THE REPORT CARD.

SHE AND I HE WERE COOL.

WENT TO THE SAME SCHOOL, DO WHAT TWO BEST FRIENDS WOULD NORMALLY DO.

ONE DAY AFTER TAKING THE TEST, SHE GOT LABELED ADVANCED-E GOT LABELED A FOOL.

DROPPED OUT OF SCHOOL.

DID WHAT HE THOUGHT HE HAD TO.

STAR MATHEMATICIAN, DIFFERENT GREENS AND WHITES WOULD HELP WITH HIS ADDITION.

FINANCIAL ADVISOR FOR WOMEN, PIMPING AND FLIPPING.

NOW MY MAN FIGHTS HIS TEARS INSIDE OF A PRISON RIGHT NEXT TO POP'S PAUSE.

FORGET IT.

JUST PLAY TRACK, BLACK BOY, OR FOOTBALL OR BASKETBALL OR JUST BALL, BACK BOY, GET MONEY, GET GIRLS, GO TO JAIL.

YOU DO THE SAME.

TRY ALL YOUR LIFE TO FIND THE PLACE THAT YOU FIT INTO.

YOU SEE, I REPRESENT BROKEN HISTORIES, MISSING TEXTS FROM TEXTBOOKS.

KINESTHETIC LEARNERS THAT DON'T TEST GOOD, PRODUCTS OF SOCIETY.

LANGUAGE THAT I PLAY WITH BECAUSE MINE WAS TAKEN IN A COUNTRY THAT SHUNS ME, I HAVE SO MUCH STAKE IN IT.

A PEOPLE WHO ARE DIRECT RESULT OF AN ACTION TAKEN AND A PEOPLE WHO FEAR THOSE PEOPLE SO THEY'VE CREATED LAWS TO EVADE AND CONTAIN THEM INSIDE OF THE LINES.

PATHS.

ROADS.

CIRCLES.

AND TRACKS.

MY NAME IS TISH JONES.

AND I'VE BEEN CALLED HERE TO REPRESENT THE MISSING PIECE.

>> ALL RIGHT.

Cheers and applause >> ADIA: THAT'S IT FOR TV TAKEOVER.

THIS WAS THE FINAL EPISODE OF OUR SERIES!

A BIG SHOUT-OUT TO ST. PAUL ALMANAC.

Cheers and applause >> FOR THE NATIONAL ENDOWMENT OF THE ARTS, ARTS WORKS, THE KNIGHT FOUNDATION AND THE BLYTHEE BLANDIN FOUNDATION PROUDLY SUPPORTING THE ARTS OF MINNESOTA.