One of my wonderful publicists, Monique Muhlenkamp, gave me a nudge the other day and said, “Your biography is getting a bit stodgy. Can you update it?”
I am no lover of the business side of being an author and I do it poorly. In this world where a nine-year-old posting a tiktok video of a cat in a hula dress can get more public exposure than I have received in my entire life, it seems like a fool’s errand to post any more of my overly discursive ramblings about my work or life. But when my PR folks say, “March,” I dutifully pull on my boots and stumble forward.
So here’s my new bio. No cats in hula dresses, but a little less stodgy. Enjoy (or endure):
I’m a child of the 60’s, a son of the north, and a lover of dogs.
Grew up in a tiny crackerbox post-war bungalow outside of Minneapolis with my mother and father, two younger sisters, various dogs and cats, and a neighborhood full of rugrat kids playing outside until called in for the night.
Studied American Studies at the University of Minnesota, Religious Studies and Humanities at Stanford University, received a Ph.D. in Religion and Art in a joint program at Graduate Theological Union and the University of California at Berkeley. Lots of learning, lots of awards. Phi Beta Kappa. Summa cum Laude. Lots of stuff that looks good on paper.
But just as important, an antique restorer’s shop in Marburg, Germany; the museums of Florence; a sculpture studio in the back alleys of Pietrasanta, Italy; an Indian reservation in the forests of northern Minnesota; and, perhaps above all, the American road.
Always a watcher, always a wanderer, perhaps too empathetic for my own good, more concerned with the “other” than the “self”, always more interested in what people believed than in what they thought. A friend of the ordinary and the life of the streets.
Twenty years as a sculptor — over-life sized images hand-chiseled from large tree trunks — efforts to embody emotional and spiritual states in wood. Then, still searching, years helping young people collect memories of the tribal elders on the Red Lake Ojibwe reservation in the Minnesota north. Then writing, always writing, finding a voice and even a calling, helping Native America tell its story.
A marriage, children, a home on a pine-rimmed lake near the Minnesota-Canadian border.
Book after book, seventeen in all, ever seeking the heartbeat of people’s belief. Journeys, consolations, the caring observer, always the teacher, always the learner. Ever mindful of the wise counsel of an Ojibwe elder, “Always teach by stories, because stories lodge deep in the heart.”
Through grace and good luck, an important trilogy (Neither Wolf nor Dog, The Wolf at Twilight, and The Girl who Sang to the Buffalo), a film, Minnesota Book Awards, South Dakota book of the year, many “community reads,” book sales around the world.
In the end, a reluctant promoter, a quiet worker, a seeker of an authentic American spirituality, more concerned with excellence than quantity. Proud to be referred to as “a guerilla theologian” and honored to be called “the one writer who can respectfully bridge the gap between native and non-Native cultures”. But more honored still to hear a twelve-year-old girl at one of my readings whisper to her mom, “He’s a really nice man.”
At heart, just an ordinary person, grateful to be a father and a husband, more impressed by kindness than by power, doing what I can with the skills that I have to pay my rent for my time on earth. And trying, always trying, to live by Sitting Bull’s entreaty: “Come let us put our minds together to see what kind of lives we can create for our children.”
And petting every dog that I can.
It’s wonderful. Thanks for the update!
You are these many impressive things but you neglected to include a true and trusted friend to many who have come to admire, trust, and love you over the years. The special knack you have to be able to bring us all with you on your journeys, feel what you felt and find a modicum of humor to keep us hopeful.
I have been a very lazy friend to you and Kelly since Bud’s death. I think of you often and keep berating myself for not overcoming my phone aversion and giving you a call. Thanks for keeping our friendship strong. I promise I will be in touch.
I love this bio. It fits with everything that I know about you, and reminds me of parts that I have forgotten. I’m very happy to know you, and even happier that you are going to talk about your amazing life to the folks at the Selim Center for Lifelong Learning at the University of St. Thomas on April 11th. Your friends here are welcome to attend, either in person or online (https://www.stthomas.edu/selim-center/programs/index.html).
This is beautifully written! I can’t wait to read your new book.
Thank you Kent for all you are and give to the world at this most precious time!
Hi Kent. Wonderful bio. If we were neighbors i would sit on the edge of your front stoop and learn the wisdom directly from a “guerilla theologian.” Instead, I am thrilled to be constantly learning from your marvelous books. Looking forward to Lone Dog Road and still wish the “The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo” could be made into a film!!
Love it! Written in a thoughtful perspective which is your usual style. We need the whole world to know about you!
Mr Newburn Neither Wolf nor Dog along with the other two have changed my life. Because of them, I’ve been studying native cultures. I especially look for information written by natives. I have come to realize most history is written by those who win or who are in power. I believe because of this, I am more aware of what is true and hopefully have become a better person. Thank You!
…and a good man.
Nice job.
Thanks.
“And petting every dog that I can.” … And curiously open to learning about the less obvious qualities of myself from a quietly wise cat in the corner.
A worthy addition!
If I had never glimpsed your story, I would know you by the echoes of your words, the shadows of your thoughts cast upon the pages. You reveal yourself not through mere biography, but through the myths you weave, the truths you dare to unearth, and the labyrinth of insights you leave behind for those who seek.
You are an exceedingly kind man. Thank you for your words.
You have an aversion to making telephone calls? So do I. My wife laughs when I make that statement, as once in a great while she’ll see me having a good time on the phone visiting old friends; or talking and laughing with my 30-something daughter down in Prior Lake who calls me when she wants to catch up. I seldom call her as she’s a professional architect who has an energetic almost-5 year ol daughter, and an active life of her own. Where as a retiree, I’m usually always available, if I’m not re-reading all my Kent Nerburn books over and over. Okay, maybe not always the latter as I have to eat and sleep on occasion too, but more often than not, more people call me than I call them.
Yes, I’ve read your new bio for Lone Dog Road; what did Muhlenkamp think about it? No, I mean really. To compare, I read: ‘ABOUT THE AUTHOR’ in Voices in the Stones: Life Lessons from the Native Way, from 2016, I saw it was brief and to the point although in that one, all that it mentioned of your fondness for dogs was that you took your aged yellow Lab companion, ‘Lucy,’ with you when you and your wife moved to the Pacific Northwest. Did you bring a new dog home with you? Haven’t had a dog or cat here for, wow —five or six years now; Cubby, a black Lab/Chesapeake blend, and Danni, a rugged black & gray outdoor cat who, accompanying Cubby, regularly followed me on my walks through the fields, or followed the tractor to catch mice that darted off to the side: Danni would fiercely cover her prey so Cubby wouldn’t steal it. The two of them, both over ten years of age, were loving friends all their lives, and died within a month of one another. Hard to replace friends like that, so we haven’t done it yet.
May is getting closer all the time. I’m looking forward to your book, Kent.
She liked it for its breeziness and its tone. So do I. It was meant to be more public-facing than the more interior intro in Voices and less discursive than the one currently on my website. As to our dogs, our dear Lucie walked on and we haven’t gotten another. Something about Lucie touched my heart in a way I can’t explain. I’ve had other dogs I loved as much, but she had an earnest gentleness that I can’t get over. A shrine in my heart, and all that.
I have been following you forever and you don’t look like you at all
in this picture.
What? I don’t look like me? My son took the picture. Who do I look like?
I am happy to count you among my favorite authors. Off the top off my head, you’re included with Brian Doyle, David James Duncan, Barry Lopez, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Gary Snyder, Sharon Olds, and a few others, all in my head and in my heart.
Reading your bio touches my heart like when I travel into your books, listening to the wind and smell the fragrance of the earth. I feel so alive as you write with the truth of your heart. Thank you. Can’t wait to your DOG book. Blessings – and love from Denmark across the pond.
Good picture. You look earthy, real, and soulful.
Sharyn Mcormick, a few comments back, says she has been following me for years and I don’t look like me. I’m still trying to work that one out.
In his comment above, my good friend, Steve Reynolds, echoed yours about the deep connections many of us have with dogs (and cats). Permit me to add my experiences. Except for my college years, I have always shared my life and my home with one or more dogs. Each one was/is a friend that could not be replaced. After each one crossed over the rainbow bridge, I thought I could not bare the loss, and certainly (I thought) I could not put myself in a position to experience such a loss again. But I always did because I had figured out that the pain of their deaths did not overshadow all the love, companionship, laughter, and in the case of five German Shepherd friends, protection. (The “bad” guys – and some good – often crossed the street or stepped aside to avoid us, even though good training made my dogs something like an unloaded gun.)
As the years passed and I entered the elder stages, I became disabled with limited mobility and other impairments. Nine years ago, my fifth German Shepherd, Willa, entered my world as my service dog. Talk about a deep connection! Training her was/is a true pleasure and a work of mutual love. She makes my life much easier through her loyalty, her skills, and her unremitting affection. She opens doors for me, braces me when I need to get up or down, brings me things that I need, pulls my grocery card, and of course, for the fifth time, she gives me the ease of knowing I am protected, if need be. I know her life, like all canines, will be relatively short; however, I will not go without a dog’s love and attention to duty as long as I can continue to reciprocate the care and companionship that I cherish. We also typically have a second dog who serves as playmate for Willa and as another source of joy for us and for our friends. Currently, Sancho, a Sheltie, fills these roles.
So much more to say, but I have filled enough space, and will end here with gratitude for these splendid creatures who grace our lives. Thank you for allowing me to share my experiences. And thank you for recognizing the incredible value that dogs bring to our world. Finally, Woof! CatherineS
I don’t get it either. The only difference I see is you’ve removed your glasses. I guess she didn’t catch that…lol
This is a resend Kent, due to wifi issues. I got the “you’re offline,” pop up when I sent.
Speaking from your heart to ours, telling us stories, especially yours, as the Ojibwe Elder said, we can “put our minds together and see what kind of lives we can create for our children.”
I am moved to tears.
I just got back from Stands Thirsty, where Sundances were once held. It is, and always will be, sacred ground.
Your stories open our hearts, where we can be drawn to and welcomed to such places.
It is the Spirit who help us thru life, who can help our children, until we all return.
Maybe we are all just used to seeing you in the picture on your books such as The Girl Who Sang To The Buffalo. Perhaps a red shirt would make you look more like you?
This puts me in mind of the song, ‘Garden Party’ by Ricky Nelson.
Don’t despair, Kent, people get older and sometimes thinner, and the lines began to show. Happens to us all unless we get injections that make us look like someone else. You know you are you. ‘You’ is the soul. That never changes. Still got a head of hair and that’s a good thing!
Looking forward to your latest book.
Isn’t that exactly the world we live in; more exposure for a Nine year old with a cute cat video than someone with your wisdom and communication prowess. I just bought Small Graces and while I know you are a theology student, enthusiast and maybe teacher, I wonder why you included Mother Teresa in your Introduction? When you peel back the layers of mythology, she wasn’t the saint people were led to believe. At best, she was a religious extremist who prioritized suffering over actual healing. At worst, she was a manipulative figure who took advantage of the poor to push a brutal ideology while cozying up to corrupt elites.
Interesting observation. The book was written long before I was aware of any controversy around Mother Teresa. Even now, I have not dug deeply enough into it to have any knowledgeable opinion about her or her works. I don’t doubt your analysis, but in regard to Small Graces, that is water under the bridge. Thanks for educating me. I appreciate it.