Retired couple visits every continent

Only pack a carry-on bag. No matter how long the trip.

Book guided tours.

Don’t eat the fruit.

Pack Band-Aids.

Only buy trinkets for souvenirs.

And definitely take a Rhine River boat cruise.

Jan and Joyce Wright are residents of Touchmark at All Saints in Sioux Falls, but they’re hardly there. They’re out often out of the country instead, wearing out the soles of their shoes and having a beer on yet another international vacation.

You want to know how best to travel? Join them for a glass of wine and story time at The Vine Bistro in their retirement community commons.

“People are so drawn to their kindness and energy and inspired by their adventurous spirit,” says Touchmark executive director Amanda Snoozy. “Jan and Joyce are warmly embraced.”

After their next trip to Antarctica in December, the Wrights will have officially traveled to all seven continents. Their passports tell the story from more than 80 countries; all 50 states in the U.S.; about 40 river tours, like to the Seine and the Danube; and three different working farm tours to Cuba, Chile and Egypt.

There’s a story for every stop.

“There were armed guards on our tour bus in Cairo, police with sirens going behind us and military with AK-47s out their windows,” said Joyce about a hydroponic farm tour in 2019.

Sure, they’re pretty popular at The Vine, but all that drama for two traveling Americans in Egypt?

“It was all our travel agent,” she says.

For more than 20 years, the Wrights have been working with Tiffiny Trump-Humbert of family-owned Trump Tours, a custom traveling agency that specializes in ag tours worldwide.

No, she’s not that Trump, but law enforcement in Cairo wasn’t taking any chances.

“They didn’t want an incident with our president,” Joyce says.

Sioux Falls is home, the globe is their playground

Joyce is 75, Jan is 78. They’re from White Lake and both worked for regional insurance companies while raising their daughter in Indianapolis. After they retired, they moved to a beach in Florida then to Albuquerque, New Mexico, after they got spooked by hurricanes on the East Coast. They “settled down” in Sioux Falls in 2022.

The Wrights don’t even have any connection to town but appreciate the healthcare, the culture and all the amenities at Touchmark, Joyce says. With town outings, live music, Mah Jongg and cards, it’s no wonder they need a vacation from their busy life in Sioux Falls.

“We travel freely, knowing our home is secure,” Joyce says. “And when we return, our friends and neighbors are eager to hear about our adventures.”

Like the one schoolmate who got to go to the Taylor Swift concert while everyone else had to stay home, Snoozy says friends and neighbors of the Wrights live vicariously through their memories.

“There is always a new energy at happy hour when the Wrights return from their latest adventure,” she says. “You can usually hear the laughter spilling down the hallway as stories are swapped and photos are shared.”

Jan and Joyce have been married for 56 years, but they still vacation together wonderfully, she says. They make friends on cruises and such but almost always book a table for two, and it’s their tradition to sneak into a local bar wherever they are so Jan can have a beer.

He loves the Guiness in Ireland the most but skipped out on kissing the infamous stone at Blarney Castle.

“If I want to kiss a rock, I can go to our place in White Lake,” Jan says.

For their 50th wedding anniversary, forget an open house. They planned a cruise in Alaska, but friends at The Vine got word. Soon there were 16 people coming along, in which Trump-Humbert had to step up and plan all their accommodations as well.

But traveling the world wasn’t always a long-lost dream to work toward. Joyce just happened upon a 12-day private tour to take in China more than 15 years ago, with her sister as her travel companion.

She got to meet the manager of the General Motors plant in Wuhan, fly into Beijing and then Nanjing and sneak into a private purse sale in Shanghai.

“After that, I was on a roll,” she said. “I kept looking for the next place to go.”

In 2020, they were stuck at sea among 600 others on an Oceanic Cruise heading toward Machu Pichu. After stocking up on provisions and setting sail from Chile to Lima, the country had closed down overnight because of what was then a novel Covid virus.

They reverted to Chile, spent eight extra days at sea until Panama let them through the canal and into Miami.

The airport was empty when they arrived.

Clean diets, few injuries, no jet lag

With merely a carry-on bag at their side – “we do laundry on the ships” – they come back with only photos they took or small gifts as décor for their home. On their shelves is a Moka pot from Argentina and Delft blue pottery from the Netherlands. There are napkin rings from Africa on the dining room table, art from a local painter in Paris on the wall and a replica of the Lily of the Valley, Lithuania’s national flower.

In their photo albums are pictures of the salvaged Vasa ship in Stockholm, an ox-drawn wooden plow on a tobacco farm in Cuba, Whirling Dervish dancers on a riverboat tour down the Nile, a manic Secretarybird in the Eastern Cape – “he was hilarious to watch,” Joyce said – and a cloudy day along the Amazon River’s Rio Negro blackwater tributary.

They stick to a strict meat and potatoes diet, “or anything that’s cooked,” and have a pretty strong stomach for as much as they’re on the water. Joyce says they’ll be the only ones in the dining hall when everyone else is seasick in their rooms. Jan says the largest wave they faced was 26 feet high just north of Iceland.

“The Pacific is calmer than the Atlantic,” he says.

They don’t deal too much with jet lag either, Jan says, although they once were “down for a week” returning from Europe.

“If you’re flying into the sun, jet lag is usually worse,” he says.

They’ve succumbed to very few injuries. Joyce has a left knee and right hip replacement but only complains about backaches or maybe blisters on her feet.

She once did quite literally fall off the plane after landing in Istanbul while on their way to Italy.

Instead of pulling into the concourse, around 350 passengers had to take airstairs onto the runway, but “they were crooked,” Joyce said. She was the second to disembark, and down she went, landing on her hip on the lip of the plane and hurting her ankle and knee.

After an urgent visa to sleep for a few hours at a Turkish hotel, she hobbled her way to the Vatican in Rome and up the limestone hill to the Acropolis in Greece.

“I think it was a sprained ankle, but I got over it,” she said.

The Wrights set out to sightsee, not to sit at the beach or wade in the ocean. You won’t find them at an all-inclusive resort, and you won’t run into them along the Champs-Élysées in Paris.

“Parisians are not very nice,” Joyce says.

But do endure more than 20 hours of flight time toward Australia to meet the locals, Jan says.

“If you can get on a ship with Australians and New Zealanders, you’re going to have a good time,” he says.

Stateside, you’ll find them in the Black Hills. They’ve got a motorhome for U.S. travel and spend most winters in the south, but they otherwise don’t make it much further than West River.

“I always tell anyone who wants to travel, every American should go the Black Hills of South Dakota,” Joyce says.

After Antarctica over Christmas, they’re off to East Asia in March for a monthlong trip to South Korea, Taiwan, the Philippines and Japan, all new countries for them to visit.

Still, there is more to come. They take big trips at least twice a year and book no less than two weeks per vacation.

“We’re retired,” Joyce says. “We’re just embracing our independence.”

Former newspaper carrier brings Taskrabbit to Sioux Falls, SD

She’s a famed senior manager with AirBnB and UberEats, a former eCommerce leader with Walmart and a well-known ex-strategist for Expedia.

But before all that, tech business mogul Ania Smith was an early-morning newspaper carrier for the Argus Leader at 12 years old.

Today, as CEO of the worldwide home service marketplace Taskrabbit, her heart is home again.

Taskrabbit launched in Sioux Falls last month.

“I have been pushing this for a long time,” Smith says.

Her parents, Les and Agnes Pietruszkiewicz, still live here today and still receive the daily newspaper.

“People in Sioux Falls truly care about one another and the community,” she said. “Sioux Falls is going to be a great win for Taskrabbit.”

A family reunion in Sioux Falls

Smith was on the cover of the Argus Leader on Feb. 11, 1986, when she and her family momentously arrived to Sioux Falls from Poland.

A reporter came to the house, she said, and asked questions about her family’s arrival.

“It was so surreal to be in the newspaper," she said.

Her father fled their homeland first, in hopes of relocating his family anywhere else “from a hard life in Poland” before receiving a visa to move to the states.

“When I came to America, I had $10 in my pocket and spoke no English,” Les says today.

Although “retired” now, he still runs his own taxi and realty companies in Sioux Falls.

It took three long years, but on the morning of Feb. 6, 1986, his wife, Agnes; 12-year-old daughter, (then) Anna; and 11-year-old son, Adam, got off the 20-hour flight from Warsaw to see Dad again.

“I’ve waited for this day a long time,” Les told reporters then. “It’s like being married a second time.”

Smith, who also didn’t yet speak English but had the same work ethic as her father, was quick to put her innate sales acumen to work.

She and her brother ran a paper route for a couple years while also selling newspaper subscriptions door-to-door, where she learned to “accept rejection with grace” and “get to know your customer.”

By age 14, she was helping at her family’s restaurant, Polish Plate, and had begun a job at Burger Time on the east side before serving at TGI Fridays and Applebee’s.

Les says he watched her daughter seek more and more experience, never slowing down.

“I wanted to figure out how to make money quickly,” Smith says. “I loved having that control and being able to afford anything I could call my own. It was really powerful.”

Business related: Breadico returns to downtown Sioux Falls with cafe.

While Smith’s dad was working at John Morrell's pork processing plant (now Smithfield Foods), and her mother at the former Falcon Plastics, she and her brother went to St. Therese Catholic School and then O’Gorman High School. After finishing her undergraduate work at the University of South Dakota, her global career went from Philadelphia to New York City, Kenya to Chicago, and London to Northern California, just to name a few stops.

Smith was head of courier operations at UberEats and a senior leader at AirBnB before becoming CEO of Taskrabbit in 2020.

“I came from a lot of experience in global business operations and strategic planning, but this was my first time as CEO,” Smith says. “It was a lot of learning and excitement.”

She lives in the Bay Area today with her husband and three children.

A leader in mobile service connects ‘taskers’ with errands

Taskrabbit is an online, dual-sided marketplace – just like UberEats or AirBnB, which offers more than 700 homes in Sioux Falls today – that connects folks who need help with daily tasks. You want your lawn clipped, your house cleaned, your walls painted, your faucet fixed or your belongings packed up before a move?

Smith said some customers even hire “taskers” to stand in line for cupcakes in NYC.

Maybe not here, but the school pick-up line could even seem an apropos time for Taskrabbit to save the day.

South Dakota is one among nine of the last states to launch Taskrabbit, which began in 2008 and is otherwise in thousands of cities among eight countries and the sole furniture assembly provider at IKEA.

“Sioux Falls is one of the fastest-growing metros in the Northern Plains,” Smith says. “It makes perfect sense for us.”

For taskers, they have the autonomy to work however much they want, on whatever skillset they want and get to keep all their hourly earnings. There are more than 200,000 independent workers today.

“Looking back at my childhood, there weren’t businesses like Taskrabbit providing an opportunity for people like my parents to earn an income with that flexibility,” Smith says. “I’m very excited to provide that opportunity now for people in Sioux Falls.”

How Sioux Falls recognizes Suicide Prevention Month

Four of Fabre Sullivan’s siblings have died by suicide.

Their names matter: Cory died in 1999. He was 27 years old. Candi died in 2010 at 43 years old. Chad died in 2019 at 51 years old. After her sister Samantha died in 2022 at 35 years old, Sullivan spoke up.

Today, the sibling among seven and now 35-year-old mother of six helms the South Dakota chapter of the American Foundation of Suicide Prevention and will host the 15th annual Out of the Darkness Walk this month.

“A simple conversation can save a person’s life,” says Sullivan, who expects to gather more than 1,000 people Sept. 13 at Fawick Park.

There will also be community walks Sept. 6 in Aberdeen and Sept. 20 in Belle Fourche.

“I want to be the person in my community to start that conversation,” Sullivan says.

September is National Suicide Prevention Month, an oath to be there for families, friends and community members who might be struggling. Sept. 10 is World Suicide Prevention Day.

And the world needs to reduce the stigma, not hide from it, Sullivan says. The walk is part of a nationwide effort to support those who have experienced suicide in some way and to provide reassurance for someone who feels alone.

There are more than 550 walks nationwide, which last year alone raised $21 million. The South Dakota chapter raised $60,000 in 2024 and has already put $30,000 toward their $90,000 goal this year.

By the numbers

The American Foundation of Suicide Prevention (AFSP) reported that 1.5 million people attempted suicide in 2023, and an estimated 12.8 million adults reported having thoughts of suicide.

With the help of crucial fundraising efforts, like the Out of the Darkness Walk, Sullivan says the AFSP can invest in research, programming, public policy changes and support services.

“The research has shown us how to fight suicide,” says AFSP CEO Robert Gebbia. “If we keep up the fight, the science is only going to get better, and our culture will get smarter about mental health.”

Earlier this year, Sullivan traveled to Pierre for “eye-opening” State Capitol Day events on behalf of AFSP, advocating for the 988 suicide and crisis hotline and improved coverage for mental health.

But according to South Dakota Searchlight, a report released last month showed “significant slashes” to staff and funding for federal agencies offering mental health support.

Today, only a dozen states have offices or state coordinators focused on suicide prevention. That excludes South Dakota, which saw 192 deaths by suicide in 2024. There were nearly 50,000 nationwide – an average of 135 suicide deaths per day.

In 2023, the Centers for Disease Control reported that, according to federal guidelines, 67% of communities nationwide did not have enough mental health providers to serve residents.

How to get involved in Sioux Falls

Sullivan is all over town. She and her committee members have set up resource tables at restaurant fundraisers, car shows, neighborhood block parties, mental health awareness events, basketball tournaments and last month hosted an open mat jiu jitsu fundraiser for AFSP.

But she is not singular. From Sept. 25-28, there’ll be a dozen well-known community members, like Sioux Falls Mayor Paul TenHaken, running across the state to support suicide prevention.

Beginning in Rapid City, and making stops in Pierre and Mitchell before finishing up in Sioux Falls, the 437 Project will complete a relay-style journey to raise money for The Helpline Center’s suicide crisis programming.

Helpline’s CEO Janet Kittams says the partnership with The 437 Project allows them to host an annual speaker series, welcoming this year TV and movie actor Sean Astin.

Astin, well-known from “The Goonies,” “Stranger Things," "Lord of the Rings" or “Rudy,” grew up with a mother who had bipolar disorder and now advocates for mental health support programs and awareness.

“The draw is to come and see him, but the message is what’s most important to me,” Kittams says. “People will walk out that night knowing there is help, there is hope and it’s OK to talk about mental health.”

Sullivan says many people worry that talking about suicide would “just put the idea into people’s minds, but that could not be further from the truth,” she says.

“The more we talk about it, the more we recognize those signs in ourselves and others and create a safe space for getting help,” Sullivan says.

To participate in awareness efforts, Helpline COO Amy Carter says the community is welcome to pick up yard signs at the Helpline offices for free. Her team also partnered with nonprofit Lost&Found and the Sioux Empire Suicide Prevention Task Force to place magnetic ribbons on more than 80 Sioux Falls Police Department patrol vehicles this month, a pilot endeavor that also will mark over 500 patrol vehicles statewide.

More than half of suicides in SD were by firearms

Suicide is a “public health crisis” and the 11th leading cause of death in the U.S.

According to the CDC, it was the ninth leading cause of death in South Dakota in 2023 and the second leading cause of death specifically for ages 10 to 34.

In the same year, 181 people died by suicide in the state.

Sullivan says the mission of the AFSP is to “save lives and bring hope to those affected by suicide,” with the goal to reduce the nation’s annual rate of suicide by 20%.

The latest rate recorded was 14.1 deaths per 100,000 in 2023, the highest it’s been in 10 years.

Sullivan says her hope every day is to keep other families from experiencing a suicide loss.

“I miss my siblings dearly and remember how I felt the exact moment each time finding out they had passed,” Sullivan says. “This is why I am in the fight to prevent suicide.”

Meet Sanford's child ambassador for annual golf tournament

Fourteen-year-old Emmett Zorr is tired.  

Within the past week, he’s been a charming, familiar face at the eighth annual Sanford International golf tournament, serving as the Children’s Hospital Ambassador.

He got new shoes, a new hat, three fresh golf outfits and an entire set of new clubs to hob nob with two-time U.S. Open champion Andy North, philanthropist T. Denny Sanford, Mayor Paul TenHaken, NFL Hall of Famers Cris Carter and Rondé Barber, Police Chief Jon Thum, Fire Rescue Chief Matt McAreavey and, right as the fatigue began to kick in, he got a fist bump and autograph from golf legend John Daly.

But Zorr also had homework to catch up on as an eighth grader at South Middle School in Harrisburg. He had 7:30 a.m. doctor appointments before helping to coach the Junior Club Clinic on Sept. 9. And next week, he heads to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnestoa, for an eight-hour nerve transfer surgery to help his smile, after doctors removed a tumor from his cheek when he was 5 years old.

But it’s just another one of many reconstructive surgeries for Zorr, said his mother Tina Woltman. And anyway, he was more focused on the highlight of his ambassador week: hitting the tournament’s ceremonial opening tee shot before Sept. 12’s first round of play.

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“I did it,” said Zorr, after successfully driving for 130-yards on the first hole at the Minnehaha Country Club in Sioux Falls.

A seemingly trite accomplishment, after having overcome cancer twice, enduring “at least” 11 surgeries with more to come and also being a kid who just wants to ride Grandpa Woltman’s side-by-side on the farm.

“Emmett has been challenged with a lot of things,” says Wendy Jensen, his child life specialist at the Sanford Children’s Hospital castle in Sioux Falls. “But he has done it all with such courage and a positive attitude.”

Already a golfer, Emmett rose to the occasion

Every year, the Sanford International golf tournament partners with the Sanford Health Foundation to choose what they refer to as their ambassador, a child patient who represents the Children’s Hospital throughout the weeklong tournament.

These kids get to shop at Scheel’s with golf pros and pick out toys to bring to fellow patients at the castle. They serve as standard bearers during a nine-hole exhibition scramble with NFL players. And Zorr got to design a pair of socks and a smock for caddies to wear throughout the tournament.

His 25-year-old brother, Ace Zorr, served as Emmett’s caddy when he beautifully teed off for opening ceremonies.

“Ace is Emmett’s life,” says Emmett’s dad, Chad Zorr. Ace played basketball for Harrisburg High School then went on to play for Dakota Wesleyan University. He lives in Sioux Falls today and is still Emmett’s No. 1 fan.

“The bond those two have through life, basketball, golf, it’s just amazing,” Chad says.

Emmett’s been playing since he was 4 years old. “It’s a coincidence” now being an ambassador for a golf tournament, Chad says, but it gave Emmett a nice boost heading into his big role.

“He’s a natural talent,” Chad says.

Just like his brother, Emmett has been taking lessons at First Tee for years, a nationwide youth development program that empowers kids through the game of golf.

Julie Jansa founded the Sioux Falls chapter in 2007, located at the Elmwood Golf Course and now one among 150 others nationwide that serve 41,000 kids a year. First Tee hosted a Junior Club Clinic for Sioux Falls elementary students during the tournament.

Emmett also participated in the Sanford Sports Academy’s golf program and before the International got to practice at Great Shots with golf specialist Jacob Otta.

“It’s been a joy to welcome Emmett to the Sanford International family,” said tournament director Davis Trosin. “His enthusiasm and energetic personality brighten every room he’s in.”

Castle staff ‘is family’

Emmett gets that a lot.

Jensen at the castle, who’s known Emmett since he was an infant and whom Woltman refers to as “family,” says everybody knows Emmett and looks forward to his hugs.

As a child life specialist, she and her colleague Nancy Kiesow say their “privilege” is to advocate for the child: Support their coping, “normalize” their environment, simplify medical jargon and just goof off with them in between pokes and treatments.

“Sometimes, it’s really hard,” Kiesow says.

She’s been an outpatient child life specialist for over 30 years and with Jensen helps to run Camp Bring It On at Joy Ranch, a weeklong summer camp for cancer patients ages 7 to 17.

“But it’s an honor to be able to help and empower kids like Emmett.”

Sanford Hospital security guard Cal Hilligas says Emmett’s like a friend to him.

“The patient experience starts at the desk,” Hilligas said. “You never show negativity, you listen when they want to talk and you look right into their eyes and into their heart. I just want to hug Emmett all the time.”

Roller coasters toward remission

Emmett, whose name means “strength,” Mom says, was first born prematurely on April 25, 2011. After three months in the NICU and over two years on oxygen, he then received his first cancer diagnosis at 3 years old, a rare form of sarcoma that arises in muscle tissue.

After a lot of “Mickey Mouse Club House” episodes during chemotherapy and radiation, Emmett was diagnosed again in 2016 – a week before he was supposed to be whisked off on his Make-A-Wish trip.

After a 14.5-hour surgery to remove the tumor, more treatment and more surgeries, he and his family finally reveled in a “perfect” trip to Disney World, Sea World and Universal Studios in Orlando, Florida.

“He made me ride every single roller coaster,” Woltman said.

Emmett’s been in remission for eight years now, but “every bump, every bruise, every sore that doesn’t heal,” Woltman says, “you wonder if something is wrong.”

Mom is tired, too, she says. After his second diagnosis, she counted 103 appointments in one year. They had to be in Chicago for three weeks when he had his tumor removed and have spent much time traveling to and from Mayo.

“But Sanford is our home,” Woltman says. “This is our family here.”

On the morning of Sept. 12, half a dozen staff from the Sanford Children’s Hospital came to support Emmett as he shimmied up to the first, monumental swing.

Emmett was “getting tired of the pictures,” he said, but hugged every nurse, child life specialist, security bud Cal, his grandparents Glen and Bev Woltman, Uncle Tyler and gave a thumbs up in photos with every big wig in town.

Emmett himself signed a few autographs.

“We are where we are supposed to be,” Woltman says. This, too, shall pass, she told the audience while speaking Sept. 10 at the Sanford International Women’s Day Luncheon.

She received a standing ovation.

“Emmett is my whole world,” she said. “This is his time to shine,” she said.

Born to be mild: Meet the moped crew of Sioux Falls

Before you hear the big and angry growl of a hog heading west for Sturgis next month, listen instead for the cute meep meep of a moped tootling through town at 30 miles an hour.

We see a lot of scooters or mini motorcycles promenading Minnesota Avenue this time of year. Maybe you’ve waved at a rider while at a stop light on 41st Street or awed at a parked silver Vespa downtown. How fun! How summery! They’re hard to miss and hard to resist.

Nettie Lawrence has been riding her “girl Stella” for over 15 years. It’s a two-stroke engine motorcycle she first owned while living in Wisconsin before she met her now husband in Sioux Falls. She keeps Stella on the road here but was missing “her people” she used to scoot with back home.

“I love to move, I love to ride,” says Lawrence, who works at Vern Eide Motoplex and Honda PowerSports, both north of town off 60th Street. She likes to “yammer” with customers about scooters and finally met enough to start a Facebook group and regular ride schedule.

What’s more charming than spotting a scooter at Terrace Park? Spotting a dozen scooters zipping by with a friendly honk and wave.

Safety first and fun always

The SuFu Mini Moto Crew meets on Friday nights for a two-hour-ish ride through parks and neighborhoods, stopping for ice cream at Yonutz or pizzas at Remedy Brewing Co. afterward. They bring their mini motorcycles, vintage scooters, retro monkeys and Honda Groms or the all-new, futuristic BMW CE o2 electric that Lawrence rode last time they met.

“You can’t even hear this coming by,” Lawrence said.

This is the crew’s second summer together, and they have over 100 members. Anyone is welcome to join, any night and “just go.”

“You get to take in the city in a whole new way,” said Tony Reiss. He joined the Mini Moto Crew last year and rides a red Honda Trail 125. “People are always watching you, and this one has turned some heads since it’s based off of Honda’s old CT90.”

When Leah Hofer was in her 20s, she often rode on the back of mini motos with friends.

“Short shorts, tank tops, flip flops — it was totally unsafe, but it was all about the look,” says Hofer, who drives her own mid-sized, beginner-friendly Honda Rebel today and will ride around with her son. He’s on a Grom and also in his 20s but leaves the flip flops at home.

“It’s nice to ride on the back and enjoy the scenery, but now I ride myself and go where I want and whenever I want,” Hofer says.

Lawrence had a group of over 600 members back home in Wisconsin. She’s savvy at leading tours and won’t start a ride without a lesson on safety and etiquette.

“Ride at your own pace and ability,” she reads from poster boards she made for the group. “If some people are doing wheelies, you can just not do wheelies if you don’t want to.”

Stay up front with Lawrence if you’re new, don’t assume you have the right of way, ride three seconds apart and avoid potholes.

“Ok, yes, scooter burnouts accepted,” she says to the guy in the back.

Peep the stickers

We are seeing a resurgence in mini bikes, Reiss says. Sure, the Vespa became famous after Audrey Hepburn’s iconic tour through Italy in the 1953 comedy romance “Roman Holiday,” but electric options are appealing today, mopeds are easy to maneuver and the “price points aren’t bad at all,” he says.

Leah Simmons joined the Moto Crew for the first time last month, rolling up in an army green, rugged Honda Ruckus and a black helmet with kitty ears perked on top.

“I just got it and, dammit, I should’ve bought this sooner!” Simmons says. She’s already put 300 miles on it and only $8 worth of gas in the tank.

They’re carefree, playful, and “no windows,” Reiss says, to notice more and hear more around town.

And peep the stickers. Lawrence says whenever she’s at a gas station or parking lot and sees a fellow scooter, she hands ’em a SuFu Mini Moto Crew sticker with the Sioux Falls flag and a buffalo on it — of course himself on a moped.

“I want everyone to know that we have a scooter club!” Lawrence says. “Come ride with us! It’s always a nice day to go for a scoot.”

Sanford’s longest-serving medical pilot retires

You might not be able to get ahold of Sherwin Bolks right now.

For the past 42 years, he’s been on call as Sanford Health’s longest-serving medical pilot for their AirMed program. With a phone or pager ever in his pocket, whether at church or a baseball game or having dinner on Christmas Eve, he’s been ready for the next trauma patient within 15 minutes.

Bolks retired in May.

“I’m actually walking away from my phone, maybe running to the store without it,” Bolks said. “I’ve just always had in the back of my mind that somebody needs help right away. I think it will take a while to get used to this.”

The same goes for his team. Sanford’s vice president of air transportation Mike Christianson said Bolks was a “legend in our world.” As the most-tenured pilot among nearly 50 other fifth-wings, he was “always jovial, very reassuring, and the guy everyone wanted to be around.”

“Sherwin always made people feel more comfortable when they were really unsure of what was going to happen at that time,” Christianson said. “He will definitely be missed.”

'Patients put a high level of trust in me'

Sanford’s critical care air ambulance operation began in 1977, after receiving a federal grant to reduce the state’s infant mortality rate. Still today, the program most often specializes in neonatal, obstetric and pediatric care. Including a need for stabilizing treatment, well over 100,000 patients have been served since the aviation program’s inception.

Bolks started in 1984 and likely provided more than 250 flights a year across the Upper Midwest. Sanford takes off from remote bases in Bismarck, Dickinson, Fargo, North Dakota; and Bemidji, Minnesota., but Bolks said he’d fly far beyond their footprint for critical care patients and corporate “outreach flights” − doctors and nurses needing to get to patients who couldn’t travel.

It was “like a light switch I needed to turn on and off,” Bolks said, to not emotionally connect with the situation and “just do my job and get them on the ground safely.”

Bolks has a warm and hearty voice, like a jolly grandfather who was always “wise cracking” and making you laugh, Christianson said. Moreover, he has the kind of presence that relaxes you and a smile that makes you feel safe. Anyone would take a hug from Bolks.

“Patients were putting a high level of trust in me that I’d get them somewhere safely,” said Bolks, who would also assist with loading and unloading patients, always communicate on flight duration and flying conditions and “take some of the stress away.”

“They need that assurance," he said.

An aspiring mentor in ambulance aviation

Sanford AirMed operates with nine aircraft in service 24/7: five turboprop King Air 200s and four EC 145 helicopters, most of which Bolks has flown.

“I like my wings to stand still,” he said.

Christianson said Bolks was a whiz in the air, a leader who knew the region and all airports well. He took time to build meaningful relationships with the FAA, hospital executives and the more than 200 nurses and paramedics.

“He knows how this program works and was always a good teacher for the young guys coming in,” Christianson said.

Bolks would write training manuals for new staff and helped to initiate a safety program for the team.

Early on, AirMed was only a two-plane service. By 1986, the program became one of the first hospitals operating on-demand charter flights with its FAA Park 135 license.

“We were hauling patients nonstop,” Bolks said, adding that the team was also facing short narrow runways, with little or no room to approach, and no weather reporting at the smaller airports.

But this was never an obligation, Bolks said. It was a privilege, and one his family supported well.

“Honestly, this is a family job,” said Bolks, who raised four kids with his wife and has two grandchildren today. “If you go out to dinner, you need to take two cars. When the pager goes off in the middle of the night, you’re gone. You get callous to it after a while.”

What’s next on the ground?

Bolks’ grandson was asleep in the backseat of his car when he sat in the front and spoke recently with the Argus Leader.

“I’m on Grandpa Daycare today,” he said. “We have a blast together.”

But that’s not all he has planned for his retirement. He’s got a motorcycle “waiting to get worn out,” then plans to buy a camper next year. 

Of course, he’s always the pilot who likes an adventure, a “challenge” that keeps him young. He first learned to fly with his brother when he was 16 years old.

To honor Bolks’ retirement, his team performed a traditional water cannon salute at Maverick Air Center for his final flight on a sunny day.  Family arrived to watch firetrucks spray an arch of water as his airplane taxied through the curtain, a symbolic farewell and nod to his service.

“He has done his duty for the organization,” Christianson said. “We’re very grateful for the time we had with him.”

Blue skies and tailwinds on your next journey, Captain Bolks.

Bars of the Year: S.D. saloon named one of best in the country

Travis Pearson has been shot and killed 15,000 times inside Saloon No. 10.

For more than 15 years, “I die and resurrect three times a day!” says the actor who portrays Wild Bill Hickok in the historic bar’s daily re-enactments of the famed outlaw’s death by the pistol of “Crooked Nose” Jack McCall in 1876.

The chair in which Wild Bill was shot while playing poker inside the dusty saloon still hangs on the wall today.  

But there’s such a larger history lesson inside the Deadwood, South Dakota, bar on Main Street. Built during the peak of the Black Hills Gold Rush 150 years ago and family-owned for 60 years now, Saloon No. 10 is a “museum with a damn good bar” for relics and folklore from the Old West. Peep more modern artifacts, too, like the stunning collection of George and Joseph Fassbender’s artwork, a 1990 Dick Termes spherical painting and an elk hide robe worn by actor Duane Howard in the 2015 movie “The Revenant.”

Now it’s been named one of the 29 bars included on the 2025 USA TODAY Bars of the Year list, created by USA TODAY Network food writers across the country. The list includes everything from humble dives to high-end cocktail bars with some wine bars and music venues thrown in the mix.

“There is a certain magic here,” says general manager and co-owner Louie LaLonde. Her parents, Lew and Marion Keehn who both died in 1999, brought ragtime piano and gambling back to Deadwood to boost tourism in an otherwise “crumbling” mining community. Today, Saloon No. 10 fills to capacity with ages 21 to “oh, folks at least in their 80s” line dancing in the back, bellied up to play blackjack, or shouting stories at the bar.   

“I’m only me, the one who hopes to god I’m making the right decisions up in my office,” LaLonde says. “I’m not the one who brings the magic — that’s our employees, they make this place feel like home.”

What makes Saloon No. 10 stand out?

Sure, Calamity Jane once caused trouble here and, more recently, Kevin Costner visited often after opening his own casino down the street in 1991, but it’s the Keehn family themselves who are the celebrities.

Lori Keehn-Moore, the baby of the four other siblings who run the bar today, says she used to help wash dishes or attend some of the live shows if her dad let her as a child. She grew up with the romance of the Old West as her lullaby, the history of Deadwood as her bedtime story and “loved every minute.”

“This is the best family you could ever work for,” says 30-year Saloon No. 10 bartender Kal Varland. “It is just the best job in the world, very gratifying. I’ve met some of the best people here and some of the worst, but there is a lure here you can’t get anywhere else.”

If you wake up in the morning with saw dust in your socks, poker chips in your pocket and a tattoo of Wild Bill Hickok on your face, well then Saloon No. 10 has treated you well and will tip their hats to you again soon.

What to order at Saloon No. 10

Co-owner Charlie Struble-Mook, who is the daughter of Keehn-Moore and also mayor of Deadwood, studied American whiskey and went to Kentucky to bring back her own barrels of Buffalo Trace, the bourbon they pour into the 10’s most-popular Old Fashioneds. Struble-Mook says they have at least 10 barrels, each of which encases around 250 bottles’ worth of bourbon.

“One barrel will maybe last six months,” she says, but that’s just their Buffalo Trace. They also have one of the most extensive whiskey collections in the Midwest, including over 400 different brands as well as limited editions and exclusive barrels.

Upstairs is the Deadwood Social Club, Saloon No. 10’s sister restaurant that opened in the ’90s and is where LaLonde will enjoy a nice scotch in a more “chill vibe” or on the rooftop patio. If you make it past the rowdy dance floor in the saloon, try the smoked tuaca pheasant.

Did you know?

The Keehn family is one of the most prolific philanthropists in Deadwood. On behalf of Saloon No. 10, they have raised more than $1 million for local cancer research and just last March donated $30,000 for chemotherapy patients using cold caps during treatments.

They are a very dog-friendly bar and also donate to the Twin City Animal Shelter in neighboring community Lead, S.D.

Female-run horse ranch in the Badlands to hit the big screen

From taming renegade horses on her dusty ranch in South Dakota to shining her spurs for the red carpet in New York, Tabatha Zimiga never saw it coming.

She brands cattle in Badland Country and coaches wayward teens toward their first belt buckle in competitive rodeo. She slow-cooks a pot roast for the neighbor kids then hushes her 40-head of horses to bed each night, with a diapered baby on her hip.

(Nevermind that the rest of her kids are still riding bareback and barefoot out there somewhere in the dark).

Zimiga grinds with no remorse. She riots her way through an archaic cowboy culture with wing-tipped eyeliner and a half-shaved head that will intimidate the hell out of you. She has no time to be soft or to reflect or to grieve the sudden death of her lover in 2019. Give her your hand, and she’ll sic her rottweilers to your feet.

Until she met a new friend.

Los Angeles filmmaker Kate Beecroft “had no business” happening upon Zimiga while making a wrong turn just east of Wall, South Dakota, more than five years ago. There was no likelihood for her to be away from the west coast at all, but she was craving a good story to tell the way Zimiga was craving for someone to listen to hers.

So she pulled up to a trailer home frozen in time and a group of teenage girls staring her down – her old Toyota Tacoma a pion on the gaping plains. And she didn’t turn around.

In no less than an hour, the cowgirl shared her secrets with the Californian, and Zimiga’s diary will now open for us all as part of Beecroft’s debut feature film, “East of Wall,” premiering Aug. 15 nationwide.

Learning how to act, writing together

Beecroft was supposed to be an actress. She studied Shakespeare in college and went to drama school in London before realizing she wanted to cast the stars, not be one.

She leaned into people, fascinated by whatever they felt made their life tedious, and Zimiga fit this unorthodox endeavor.

Instead of writing a script then piecing together the cast, Beecroft plucked a real story from a real rancher in the emptiest part of the country. Then, she patiently “searched for the magic.”

After first meeting Zimiga, Beecroft was drawn to the ranch again and again. Eventually, she just stayed − living with the family for three years.

“I didn’t think this would become a feature film, but I did know I was in love with their lives,” said Beecroft, 31. “I felt starstruck and was obsessed with them but also more connected to myself when I was with them.”

“East of Wall” is a docu-fiction drama that features Zimiga, 36, playing herself, her 18-year-old daughter, Porshia Zimiga, playing herself and a few other rider friends stepping in as novice actors. Tabby’s 6-year-old son, Stetson, is also in the film.

Their story was crafted by Beecroft while she was living their life alongside them and working with a very scant budget – tagging calves, bailing hay, grabbing a soda and an Indian taco in Wasta or stepping out while Mom screams at Porshia for stealing traffic cones in the middle of the night.

“They were for barrel racing!” Porshia says. (That one makes it into the film).

But it’s all collaboratively scripted, putting Tabby and Porshia into the position of essentially rehashing their own stories in real time – not an easy feat for a feral teenager and a broken-down widow trying to maintain 1,200 acres of family farmland on her own.

“I ain’t no ‘Yellowstone,’ ” Tabby says. “I ain’t got no white picket fence or lush green grass everywhere. I got prairie dog holes and mean-ass dogs outside, but I have a lot of trust in Kate.”

TikTok on the horse ranch

“East of Wall” first premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in January. It won most votes from audience attendees and was quickly picked up by Sony Pictures Classics, likely for its raw slap in the face about warrior women in the modern American West.

The melodramatic intensity of a classic Western does well and all, but put a bunch of tattooed women around a campfire to reveal the real macabre behind a cowboy, leaving the cameramen in tears, and you’ve got what they call “Hollywood gold.”

“I tried to leave the theater watching that scene,” Tabby says. “Porshia did, too. But Kate held my hand and kept me there, and it has made the grief easier.”

Beecroft taught herself how to direct while at the same time teaching these girls how to act, but she always saw it in them.

“I needed to see their faces and their souls onscreen,” Beecroft says. “They have a natural ability as performers, and anyone who watches this will fall in love with Tabby and these kids.”

The film is unexpected, too. Yes, there are rodeo queens, the twinkle in a cowboy’s eye and the romantic haze of a sunset, but then Tabby’s selling horses on TikTok, the girls play Shaboozey while riding bareback in bikinis and someone just landed a backward flip off their horse.

All the music in the film is from Tabby’s Spotify playlists for rodeos or breaking horses. Forget the cowboy hat, your girl’s got a JBL speaker tied to her saddle.

“I’m a vegan from LA,” Beecroft says. “I didn’t want my fingerprints too much on this film. I wanted it to be Tabby and incorporate how she sees things.”

A story of female resilience

There were a few actors in the film. Broadway star Jennifer Ehle, known for “Pride and Prejudice” and “Zero Dark Thirty,” stars as Tabby’s mother, Tracy, and even wore Tracy’s actual clothes for the movie.

And Emmy-nominated actor Scoot McNairy, who recently starred in the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown,” plays fictional character Roy, a filthy deep-pocket rancher who wants to buy Tabby’s land.

“East of Wall” is a story about female resilience: their unapologetic power behind the submissiveness that Hollywood wants us to see in a woman.

But the film made it this far by the power of friendship. The cowgirl and the Californian who “protect each other,” lived together and broke bread together are “forever.”

“We’re worlds apart,” Beecroft says. “But she’s the closest person in my life.”