St. Paul: More Than Just City #6

The flight into St. Paul, Minnesota, was not luxurious, but it was manageable. A little turbulence kept the cabin service grounded, and the close quarters turned the armrest into a quiet contest with the passenger beside me. Even so, the trip was short enough that discomfort never became the point. I was not traveling for convenience or comfort, but for something more meaningful:

to see my dad in his new home.

St. Paul has a colorful past. It was once known as Pig's Eye, named after Pierre "Pig's Eye" Parrant, a one-eyed bootlegger and fur trader who ran an illegal tavern in the area in the 1830s. It is the kind of detail I probably never would have learned had I not stumbled across it in a YouTube video one day. But I was not in town for local trivia. St. Paul has recently become home to my dad, who moved from my childhood house in Fridley, a six-bedroom, three-level place full of memory, into an apartment here in St. Paul.

My dad will turn 90 this year, and Carondelet Village feels like the right place for this chapter of his life. The community offers independent living, assisted living, memory care, and long-term care, with wellness and enrichment programs at its center. What stood out most was not simply the range of services, but the sense that the place was designed to help people remain engaged, active, and connected. It was perfect for my dad.

The tour of the facility was the highlight of the visit. There were pools and pool tables, pottery and sewing rooms, quiet corners for reflection, and a full calendar of daily activities. It was easy to imagine how a person could build a real life there instead of simply passing time. More than anything, I left feeling relieved. A move like this is never small, but seeing the place for myself made it feel less like an ending and more like a thoughtful new beginning.

I am excited for my dad. As he showed me around the new facility, I met one of my dad's high school friends, Fr. John Forliti, who also lives at Carondelet. He and my dad have been friends since the 1950s. I was not surprised to see a 12-to-1 ratio of women to men.

In the end, St. Paul became more than another city on a list. It became the setting for one of life’s quieter passages, the kind marked not by drama, but by acceptance, friendship, and hope. Watching my dad settle into this new chapter, I was reminded that growing older can still hold the promise of connection, dignity, and new beginnings.