St Paul artist, Anne Labovitz, is an effusive welcome wagon of one.

One of her most visible, and gregarious, public art pieces is on display at MSP’s Terminal 2, hailing and bidding farewell to thousands of travelers and hometown folk coming and going each day.

In his missives to Minneapolis, John Schuerman indicates an unwillingness to take things sitting down.

He is a man of action, primarily a man of movement, walking actually. A long-time visual artist, John decided 5 or 6 years ago to give himself over entirely to drawing. As soon as he did, he says he had a “visceral response.” “Oh man,” he thought, “I do not want to be confined to making marks on paper.”

When the story is the message, the medium can move: in poetry or through song; on lawn signs or little scraps of paper; in skywriting. For Hawona Sullivan Janzen, stories often float in on dreams, mooring in her brain as she walks the neighborhood, or waits in her car at a red light.

Bassett Creek; Phalen Creek: Bridal Veil Creek: Cascade Creek.

These names are like secret hydrological codes in Minneapolis and St. Paul. Water engineer, Nathan Campeau, is a super sleuth: he is knowledgeable about where the water that once-was-above-ground is now, and he’s focused on where it’s going.

Fred Rogers, known to American television audiences as “Mr. Rogers,” espoused a coping mechanism he learned from his mother: When the world gets tough, she told him, “Look for the helpers.”

Joan Vorderbruggen is that kind of helper.

Mr. Marvin Roger Anderson embodies the honorific “Mister.”

As a prominent elder in St Paul (Morehouse College graduate; attorney; MN State Law Librarian; alumnus of the Improved Benevolent Protective Order of the Elks of the World; community organizer, historian, and cultural curator), Mr. Anderson has earned the title of respect. More importantly, he is a Son of Rondo.

Scott Streble likes to be where the action is. As a yearbook photographer in high school, he relished the “front row seat” and the “backstage pass” his camera afforded him.

Like the Latin word “apertura,” from which the word aperture derives, Scott’s camera and resulting photographs are an opening through which to observe the fantastic, the earth shattering, and the mundane.

Lynn Welles is the strong, silent type.

Her physical fitness is hard-earned, and she listens well before she speaks. She is leading conversations with colleagues, clients, and decision-makers about how trees can advance racial equity in urban areas like Minneapolis and St. Paul.

If Mitra Jalali were writing a love letter to St. Paul, it would be effusive, inclusive, and probably written in bold, hot-pink letters.

A Somali proverb: One shares food, not words.

Minnesota is home to many Somali immigrants who are new to the English language, so sharing words with neighbors in their adopted home is not so easy. Food? That is an appetizing cultural and community connector and a form of communication Mariam Mohamed knows by heart.

Leya Hale: Her star is rising.

Hailing from sunny southern California, Leya grew up in the heart of the American television and movie making industry. With an aspiring-actress mother, and a family with a strong cultural identity (Dine, Dakota), Leya was drawn to visual storytelling at an early age. The more this St. Paul documentarian practices her craft and Indigenous heritage, the more she illuminates the “deep pockets of strength” of her people.

In her public persona, Metropolitan State University President Virginia (Ginny) Arthur, gives community a seat at the table. Less “ivory tower” and more “lively luncheonette,” Metro State asks students not only what subjects they want to major in, but what problems they want to solve.

“I like EVERYTHING!”

Sheila Williams Ridge and Alyson Quinn of the Minneapolis Nature Preschool are not surprised.

But outside? This month, Mother Nature played us in a whiplash of weather: an unseasonable eighty-degrees for three days, and this week: barely above freezing, rain, drizzle, raw wind, clouds and “sneet,” a morning that included a revolving snow/sleet mix.

“The House the Buzz Lagos Built” is bigger than a pro soccer stadium that holds 19,400 fans. It’s more crowded, too.

The new stadium’s powder-blue girder on which son Manny commemorated his dad’s enterprise is massive, yet not big enough to contain the names of all the players, student-athletes, coaches, and soccer fans who have benefitted from Buzz’s fervent embrace of the sport.

As a Water Protector, Great Grandmother Mary Lyons (Leech Lake Ojibwe) is never very far from the element she stewards. Mary has been celebrating and protecting water for over 50 years. “Water carries memory,” she says. “Think about it: For nine months you are afloat in water in your mother. We enter the world through water.”

“We don’t want people to shy away from grief,” says Julia Gillis.

As effervescent as she is deferential, Julia spends her work days in an office in a Mausoleum, a distinction that very few others can claim. As Director of Outreach for Minneapolis’ Lakewood Cemetery, Julia’s efforts make death a more normal part of life, and the physical grounds of Lakewood a place not only for reflection, but for human connection, intentionality, curiosity, and even joy.

From her earliest days on the West Side of St. Paul, Monica Bryand has been both a city girl and a naturalist. Her upbringing in a residential neighborhood, in a bend in the Mississippi River – a major flyway for birds of North America - connected her to her surroundings, and to a lifetime of environmental stewardship and friendships up and down her block.

If you could only get around your city on foot or bicycle and you were an urban planner, would you prioritize pedestrians and cyclists over cars? Bobak Razavi, 7th grade social studies teacher, certainly thinks so, and he’s got the plans to prove it.

It’s hard to imagine a more enthusiastic celebrant of snowplowing and street lights than Sean Kershaw. As Director of St. Paul’s Public Works, Sean flexes the job’s big muscles and finesses the fine motor skills required to keep the Capital City safe, connected, and interesting.

Urban planners often find themselves between two worlds: to demolish or preserve; exert patience or expediency; extend established ideas or exert new. For Merritt Clapp-Smith, that fulcrum role, that position of “holding tension” of two or more ideals, feels familiar.