A Close Encounter of the Swank Kind

 

A Close Encounter of the Swank Kind

Todd Swank's Diary Entry for July 20, 2025

It was birthday week in the Swank household. Luke & Avery turned 26 and I hit the double nickels at 55. We all handled the aging process with grace, dignity, and a suspicious amount of dessert.

We kicked off birthday week with steaks at PorterHouse in Lakeville—Luke and Avery, Abby, Sheri, Grandma Linda, and me. The food was excellent, the company even better, and the boys scored free birthday desserts. Sheri and I were being good, but I’m pretty sure I caught Grandma Linda sneaking a bite when no one was looking. Some perks don’t expire with age.

Wednesday night we rolled into Shakopee for Rhythm on the Rails, where Def Legend took the stage with a full-throttle tribute to Def Leppard. They had the look, the sound, and just enough hair product to summon 1987. No actual leopards were harmed during the performance.

We were joined by the Browns, the Wolfs, and Karl for a night of live music. After a stretch of brutal heat, the weather pulled a full Minnesota mood swing—cold, rainy all day, and stuck in the fifties by showtime. We made it through the opener and half of Def Legend before calling it. Nothing says “summer” here quite like wind chills in July.

We headed up to Clearwater for the weekend to hang with the Korkowskis, who always show us amazing hospitality. We kicked things off at Coyote Moon Grille in St. Cloud—great food, relaxed vibes, and a surprisingly impressive salad bar that even included popovers. We were officially off to a strong start.

The Korkowskis said they wanted to stop at a place they'd driven by a hundred times but never actually visited. We weren’t sure what to expect, but when we pulled up to Foleyland, we knew we were about to experience something... technically classified as art. Intrigued was an understatement.

Foleyland isn’t just a pile of old trucks and alien statues—it’s nearly 20 years of eccentric creativity brought to life by Tom Henry, a construction guy with a wild imagination, and his artist wife, Paige. What started with one painted grain silo in 2005 has turned into four acres of Bigfoots, UFOs, vintage rigs, and even a homemade time machine. It feels less like a roadside stop and more like someone turned their midlife crisis into a theme park.

We only had about 20 minutes to wander Foleyland before “closing time”—which was hilarious because we were the only ones there, and I’m still not sure who exactly was supposed to kick us out. But maybe that’s the point. Places like this aren’t built to be efficient or explainable. They’re built because someone had something weird and wonderful in their head and decided the world needed to see it. And honestly? They were absolutely right.  I thought it was awesome.

Game nights with the Korkowskis are serious business. This weekend included one with marbles, one with dice, and a couple rounds of Settlers of Catan. I was cruising in the first game—until Luke pulled a backstab straight out of a medieval scroll and crushed my chances. Sue won the second round while I watched from the sidelines in quiet frustration. Nothing like trading imaginary bricks and wheat to find out who your real friends are.

The Korkowskis had a new boat since our last visit, so we hit the lake several times. Temps stayed in the low seventies, so no one felt the urge to dive in, but it was perfect for cruising, chatting, and making up wild backstories about the other boats. One group was all wearing the same color shirts, so naturally we assumed it was either a family reunion… or a mildly unsettling cult retreat.

Blue’s 10 now and definitely showing his age, but you’d never know it from the way he’s treated—front of the boat, sun on his back, and living like royalty. Sue and the whole Korkowski crew make him feel just as welcome as the rest of us, even when his stomach occasionally forgets its manners. We’re lucky to have friends who open their home, their boat, and their weekend plans with the kind of generosity that makes you feel like family.