Root River Diary | A Panther in the Graveyard

LANESBORO — I grew up in Santa Clara (California) and graduated from Santa Clara High School in 1970, a proud Panther.

Today my wife, Sue, and I make our home in Lanesboro, a town of 750 people in southeastern Minnesota. 2,045 miles lie between those two towns.

That’s what makes what happened a few weeks ago a bit extraordinary.

We were enjoying our evening routine of taking our dog, Murphy, on a cart ride to the Lanesboro golf course. As we drove by the adjacent cemetery, we noticed a car parked in the graveyard. A couple was nearby taking information off a gravestone. We nodded a polite greeting and drove on.

But then Sue said, “We should say hello. Their car had a California license plate. Maybe they need directions or something.” I hesitated.

“You shouldn’t disturb people in graveyards,” I said.

My wife was . . . persistent. “Stop and talk to them.”

Grudgingly, grumpily, I did.

“Hi there, where are you from?” I asked the tall, friendly-looking man, who looked about my age.

“California,” he answered.

“I grew up there,” I replied, gaining a bit more interest in the conversation. “Where in California?” “The South Bay,” he told me, “near San Francisco.”

“I’m from there, too. What town exactly?” “Santa Clara,” he said.

“I grew up in Santa Clara! What high school did you go to?” You guessed it . . . Santa Clara High School. “My name is Bob Bini,” he said, “Class of 1974. This is my wife, Sarah.” It turns out Sarah — who grew up in Minnesota — has Lanesboro roots that go way back and relatives who are buried in that graveyard.

Bob and I both smiled wide, shook hands, and started talking all things Santa Clara. Our childhood neighborhoods (Bob’s near the University, mine off of Homestead). He went to St. Clares for elementary, I was a Haman kid, before we both ended up at Santa Clara High.

We reminisced about shared teachers, local places we loved (Stan’s Donuts, of course), coaches we played for: Giles. Volta. Haines. Principal Daugherty. VP Bordenave. Dean Unger. We both had the unforgettable Marcel Fiore as our class counsellor.

From graveyard to local brewery, we spent the next three hours back in our hometown. After exchanging email addresses we went on our way, a bit dazzled by what had just (unexpectedly) happened.

So, what did we learn here today? One: listen to your wife/husband/partner. Their ideas can be good ones. Two: be open to moments of serendipity.

You just never know. You might even find a Panther in a graveyard.