Balzer Talk!
What's Next?
By Deb Balzer
@balzertalk
Why We All Do Better When We All Do Better
September 9, 2026
“We all do better when we all do better.”
— Sen. Paul Wellstone
Sen. Paul Wellstone died on Oct. 25, 2002. I remember that date well. It was my 41st birthday, and friends from the newsroom were planning a rare birthday lunch. By late morning, our plans vanished as the tragedy became national news.
Our team at CONUS Communications quickly deployed a satellite newsgathering truck to the remote crash site, providing live video and updates to a grieving nation.
Today, I live in Northfield, Minnesota, after 25 years in my beloved Minneapolis. Wellstone was a treasured political science professor at Carleton College and launched his political career right here in this lively, two-college city.
A new chapter at Scene
So what does Wellstone’s legacy have to do with Scene — or even me?
Quite a bit.
Following my recent retirement from Mayo Clinic, I stepped into the role of Scene’s first managing editor. For 20 years, Twin Cities Gay Scene has told stories, shared events, celebrated people and helped our community find one another.
As Scene enters its third decade, Wellstone’s words resonate with me more than ever:
We all do better when we all do better.
Community matters
Our community is wonderfully diverse, creative, complicated and constantly evolving. There is no single way to be queer, and there shouldn’t be.
That’s why I believe we need to support the people, businesses, artists, organizations and community leaders who reflect the values we care about.
That support can be as simple as where we spend our money, which local businesses we recommend, whose art we see, which organizations we support and whose stories we share.
And yes, it includes supporting queer media.
For 20 years, Scene has been part of that community. We believe local queer media matters because our stories matter. They deserve to be told, celebrated and preserved.
What’s next for Scene
We’re growing.
We’re expanding coverage of the arts and culture that bring us together — theater, drag, music, books, film, food and travel. We’ll continue covering the events and people that make Minnesota’s queer community so vibrant.
We’re also expanding into the practical side of life: money, retirement, travel, resources and the everyday things that matter Monday through Friday, not just on the weekends.
And we’re looking beyond the Twin Cities, because queer Minnesotans live everywhere.
After 20 years, Scene is still here. We’re evolving, we’re growing and we’re excited about what’s next.
I’m lucky to be part of this next chapter.
And if Wellstone was right — that we all do better when we all do better — then let’s keep doing our part to make Minnesota’s queer community stronger, together.
Best,
Deb
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Money, but make it real: what does your life actually cost?
August 26, 2026
Sex. Politics. Religion.
You're probably more likely to know where your friends stand on those personal topics than how much money they make or how much they've got tucked away for retirement.
Money makes us funny. And not in a ha-ha way. It makes us weird.
We don't talk about it. We compare ourselves to other people. We worry we're not doing enough. We feel guilty about what we spend. And sometimes we don't even want to look at the numbers.
I know this because I'm doing it myself. I'm a recent retiree who spent a lifetime working, saving, planning and thinking I understood money. And now I'm retired and thinking: OK. Now what?
So I called Darla Kashian, Director and Financial Advisor with Kashian Karels Group at Baird Private Wealth. She's also really good at taking something that can make your eyes glaze over (money) and making it feel manageable.
We talked about debt. Emergency savings. Retirement. And why the heck it's so hard for us to talk about money in the first place.
I came away with pages of notes. And a few things I can't stop thinking about.
First: forget the word "budget"
Darla has a problem with the word budget.
"Budget is a six-letter word," she told me.
And I laughed because I knew exactly what she meant. For a lot of us, budget sounds like diet. Restriction. Guilt. The financial version of someone standing over your shoulder saying, "You shouldn't be spending that."
Darla has a better question: what does your life cost?
How much actually lands in your bank account every month? What does your mortgage or rent cost? Utilities? Your car? Food? Entertainment? Debt?
And then the really interesting question: do the things you're spending money on match the things that are actually important to you?
"It's not about judgment. It's about understanding," Darla said.
That may be my favorite money advice so far. Because I don't need somebody telling me I'm "bad" with money. I need to know what's actually happening.
It's not about deprivation. It's about paying attention.
So where does the money go?
Darla has a pretty simple order of operations:
- Reduce bad debt, particularly credit card debt and other debt that isn't connected to an appreciating asset.
- Build an emergency cash reserve.
- If your employer offers a retirement plan with a match, save at least enough to get the match.
- Then look at the bigger goals: a home, retirement, travel or whatever matters to you.
But I really liked what she said about the emergency fund.
We've all heard that we need three to six months of expenses saved. If you're starting with nothing, that advice can sound ridiculous. Where exactly am I supposed to find $30,000?
Darla's answer: make it smaller. Start with three months of your smallest bill. Your phone bill. Your electric bill. Whatever you can manage. Then check it off.
"Break it into a digestible, achievable list of goals," she said.
Digestible. I love that word because money advice can get very undigestible very quickly.
And then there's the emotional part
This may be the biggest thing I took away from our conversation. Money isn't just math. If it were, we'd all be millionaires, right? We attach so much to money. Success. Failure. Security. Independence. Even our sense of whether we're doing OK in life.
Darla doesn't pretend the emotion isn't there.
"If I pull cash out of my pocket, people have an emotional reaction to that," she said. "If I pull a wad of Kleenex out of my pocket, people wonder if it's been used, but they don't have the same emotional reaction."
Exactly. We're emotional people. So maybe the goal isn't to get rid of the emotion. It's to understand it.
Your money homework
I'm not suggesting you spend your weekend creating a 42-tab spreadsheet. Please don't.
Instead, this month:
- Find your actual monthly take-home pay.
- Write down what your life costs.
- Look at your spending without judging yourself.
- Identify what spending reflects your values.
- Find one thing that doesn't.
- Start one small emergency-fund goal.
- If you have an employer retirement match, make sure you're getting it.
You don't have to fix everything. You just have to start looking. As Darla said, the goal isn't judgment. It's understanding.
And maybe that's the first step toward making money a little less weird.
Darla and I had a lot more to talk about, so next up: spending.
A quick note: This is part one of a three-part series on money. I'm writing it because, as a newly retired person myself, I think these are conversations worth having, even when they make us squirm a little. Darla's insight is genuinely helpful, but this isn't a substitute for your own financial professional. Consider it a nudge to start the conversation, not the final word.
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The view from the balcony: Two older lesbians cruise Alaska
August 12, 2026
It’s taken 50 years of working to get to this article. I retired. At age 64. My first Social Security withholding shows I made $284 in 1976. I think I was delivering newspapers on my beat-up bike. I’ve done a little better since then and decided to reward myself, and my wife and partner of 26 years, with a cruise to Alaska. We invited my sister and her husband.
I have discovered I have reached the age where strangers look through me instead of at me. Unless I'm holding my wife’s hand, or calling out to her from across the room. Or sharing a king-sized bed in our stateroom cabin with a balcony.
I’m also 5’2” though I’d never know it unless I’m surrounded by 3,600 other travelers on an Alaskan cruise.
We are lucky. Two of our favorite gay men are well-traveled and introduced us to the world of cruising back when I was about to turn 50. I felt 35. We traveled with 1700 gay men and were two of about 20 women aboard the Nieuw Amsterdam for a whirlwind Mediterranean cruise. That’s another story, but one that set our expectations pretty high. These two gentlemen have sailed the Royal Princess and gave great tips. It’s nice to have boyfriends.
Heading to Seattle
We flew from the Twin Cities to Seattle, where we met our traveling companions. We shared a Jack-and-Jill room downtown, wandered Pike Place Market, had a meal and a cocktail, and prepared to board at noon the following day.
Set to sail
We headed to the buffet while we waited for our luggage. It was fine. But what finer was the view. Water. Mountains. Blue skies.
Our balcony room, A622, was on the 12th floor - conveniently directly across the hall from the laundry. We’ll get back there. The room was spacious, the thick white duvet deliriously comfortable. But the view was the reason we took this trip: two chairs, a little table, mountains, water, sky.
Ports of interest
Juneau - Off ship, took a tour of a mine and panned for gold, ate the most expensive crab leg ever at Tracy’s. Didn’t see anyone who looked like us. (Did I mention I’m 5’2” and my wife is 5’11”?)
Skagway - Off ship, took a small bus tour to the Klondike summit, bordering Canada. Our tour guide, Tibitha, was a purple-haired thirty-something and we hugged. She acknowledged us. It was one of our favorite excursions.
Glacier Bay National Park - Ship day. The day my wife, Barbara, and I most enjoyed together: on the balcony, with duvets on our laps, binoculars in hand, a sense of serenity.
I noticed what I thought were lots of little dark logs floating by until I realized, with the help of my binoculars, that these were actually sea otters swimming on their backs. Dozens of them. Some with babies on their bellies. That was amazing. As were the eagles on the icebergs. We witnessed a “calving” on the Margerie Glacier. That’s when a large chunk of ice breaks off the face of a glacier and crashes into the water. It was a breathtaking moment.
Ketchikan - Off ship. This is the salmon capital. And it was perhaps the hardest stop for me. Thousands of people crammed on narrow streets, all vying for views of the seals and sea otters in the water. We did see some Pride flags displayed in various shops about town, and while that was thrilling, I thought I was going to be beaten up by a fellow on a bridge. I’m short, it was raining, and we were all trying to see the sea creatures along Creek Street. I tried to wedge myself, sideways, between two very tall, large men who had their elbows spread out. The more I tried, the harder they pushed into me. This wasn’t a mosh pit at First Avenue, though it sure felt like it.
“Hey, I’m standing sideways; can we share here? Maybe be GOOD AMERICANS?
This is when I thought I was going to get punched. He swung around ready to go. “Don’t even start,” he yelled.
The rain pushed down hard on my face and glasses, and I walked away.
“Sure, leave NOW,” he followed.
My little sister shows up, says something to him, and we move along.
This is when I realized: I’m old. I’m short. I’m not considered. I find my wife.
I liked this stop the least. Not because it wasn’t beautiful or welcoming, but because the wet, cold crowds seemed to slosh through the streets, umbrellas in hand, seeing everything and noticing nothing.
Victoria, Canada - We stayed aboard, sipped Prosecco from my sister’s mini-suite and watched the pier below. I quietly apologized to my brother’s and sister’s in Canada for the cruelty of our current administration.
Aboard the Princess
The nod. I was an active participant, offering my own nod of acknowledgment though I never did make true contact. My gaydar went off often, offering the silent nod of recognition to other older dykes aboard. We saw older gentlemen dining together in matching outfits, perfectly coiffed, and smiled.
Was it hard to be an older lesbian aboard a cruise ship that was a little this and a lot of that? From couples in their 80s to families with kids and then us. Not really. We nodded and smiled and treated each other with warmth. After 26 years together, Barbara and I still know how to find each other.
Would we do this again? Sure. Would we rather have a ship full of queers? Sure. What mattered most was we felt safe and welcomed by the staff and our steward.
Maybe getting older means fewer people notice you. But the people who do notice you recognize exactly who you are.
BalzerTalk – What’s Next with Deb
July 29, 2026
After a career spanning television news, marketing, public relations, and medical communications, Deb Balzer is embracing her next chapter with curiosity, enthusiasm, and a sense of adventure.
A longtime supporter of SCENE, Deb came out as a teenager in 1978 in a small town in western New York. She spent 25 years in the Twin Cities before making Northfield, Minnesota, home, where she lives with her wife and their dog. In 2020, she helped co-found Northfield’s first Pride in the Park.
A traveler, music lover, food fanatic, and Minnesotan by choice, Deb shares queer-friendly happenings, hidden gems, great eats, memorable adventures, and the fun of figuring out what’s next around the Twin Cities and beyond. What’s on your list?
Follow Deb on social media @BalzerTalk.