Nearly a month after she turned 67, University of Minnesota student Berni Sarazine poses in front of the Northrop auditorium on the University of Minnesota’s East Bank on Apr. 8 afternoon. Her final class of the day, Spanish, had just concluded. | Photo by Charlie Walton.

Berni’s journey to the U

The 67-year-old U of M student has traveled an unlikely path through life’s struggles, one that has led her to where she has always wanted to be.

By Charlie Walton | Journalist

Instead of slapping the snooze button on her alarm clock several times and rolling out of bed half-awake to scurry off to class, Monday through Friday, Berni Sarazine is up by 5:30. Her first class isn’t until 9, but she wakes up early so that her son, Matt, can help her put on her black compression socks before she heads to the East Bank for her classes.

Sarazine, 67, has been wheelchair-bound since 2018 because of a life-threatening medical emergency. Growing up in the Iron Range of northern Minnesota, Sarazine always wanted to attend the University of Minnesota. She loved Minneapolis since grade school. But life — and those around her — had a different path for Sarazine to take. A path that wasn’t linear. A path that included many hospital visits, nights on stage, and long days in the kitchen before she got to where she always wanted to be — studying for classes at the University of Minnesota.

“The thing is,” Sarazine said, “ the path you follow is what gets you to where you’re going.”

Sarazine grew up on a farm outside of Cook, a rural town with a population of fewer than 550.

Her mother stayed at home taking care of the family while her father worked at US Steel. On a warm summer’s day, Sarazine — the oldest of seven siblings — wasn’t outside playing. She stayed inside reading her Dr. Seuss books. Her father would yell at her to go outside. So she took her book and read there.

Sarazine’s hometown in northern Minnesota

Graphic via mapcreator by Charlie Walton.

When Sarazine was in school, Dad took her on road trips with the family. Many of the students she went to school with had never been farther than Duluth. Sarazine didn’t want to be one of those kids. She spent the summer in between fifth and sixth grade in the city with her aunt and uncle. She became infatuated with the busy days that whipped through the city life.

“That cinched it,” Sarazine said. “I am going to move to Minneapolis.”

Right now, she is majoring in gender studies with a minor in creative writing. But growing up, her dad, who didn’t graduate from high school, told her that girls don’t belong in college.

“And it’s just like, I don’t know why you think it’s wrong to go to college,” Sarazine said. “It’s not wrong to go to college.”

In 1977, fresh out of high school, Sarazine received a scholarship from the University of St. Thomas. It was the school’s first year as a co-ed university, and it sought women who were strong STEM students. But she wasn’t ready for that change. She also wasn’t passionate about STEM.

“I was so scared to make that big of a leap,” Sarazine said. “You know, it’s like, you look back, and you go, ‘I should have done it.’ But, the thing is, the path you follow is what gets you to where you’re going.”

University of Minnesota student Berni Sarazine poses for her close-up in Folwell Hall on Apr. 8. She is studying and waiting for her Spanish class to begin. | Photo by Charlie Walton.

Instead of St. Thomas, she stayed closer to home, attending Mesabi Community College in Virginia, Minnesota, where her parents wanted her to focus on becoming a lab technician — a career more worth the money of going to college. But she dropped out during finals week. She wanted to be a writer. By this time, she was reading Kurt Vonnegut, Shakespeare, Stephen King and Mary Higgins Clark.

She eventually moved south, picking up a job at Woolley’s in Bloomington in 1983. Five years later, she began working at Figlio, an Italian restaurant in Uptown Minneapolis, and remained there for over 18 years.

Sarazine was in the big city. She was away from her parents and much farther than most students in her graduating class had been. It was the move she had always thought of making, but not exactly how she dreamed it. She wasn’t studying at the U of M. Instead, she was working long nights in a sweaty kitchen. Still, it marked a new beginning.

Sarazine’s parents played in a duo they called The Odd Couple. Dad plucked a guitar and played a harmonica. Mom worked on an accordion, organ and violin. They would play country and polka music. But after she graduated high school, Sarazine ditched the denim pants, cowboy hats and suspenders she grew up around for sequin blazers, hair gel and electric guitars.

“Bernie was always 100% herself. She seemed like a natural extrovert.” — Mary Pogatshnik, Spanish professor at the University of Minnesota.

She found new wave bands such as Talking Heads, The B-52s, The Clash, The Pretenders, L7 and Joan Jett. That is Sarazine’s jam. That is part of the reason she felt called to Minneapolis and to the budding music scene that was sprawling out of First Avenue in the 80s.

In particular, she loved Prince.

When Prince died due to an accidental drug overdose in his Paisley Park recording studio in Chanhassen 10 years ago, Sarazine was in a medically induced coma. She was in the hospital because an artery in her lung had a blood clot. It was one of many times that Sarazine has been in a hospital bed, but this one was especially scary for her son.

“There have been a couple of stints like that where she’s ended up in kind of, you know, a space where it seems it might be time to say goodbye,” Matt said.

In 2018, Sarazine was back in the hospital. This time, she had flesh-eating bacteria in her thighs. She was in the hospital for seven and a half months and came out in a wheelchair. In the hospital, three nurses would roll Sarazine on a steel cart into the bathroom to give her a shower. The nurses would have to hold her down as she squirmed in pain.

“I would scream like Regan in The Exorcist,” Sarazine said.

After that, Matt decided to move in with his mother to make sure she was properly taking care of herself. Matt helps his mom get ready in the morning, cooks meals for the two of them, and helps her get ready for bed, all while being a union carpenter.

In 2001, Sarazine and her son were cast members of a local Comedy Central show, Let’s Bowl. Sarazine played a scorekeeper who would flip couches and wrestle cast members, and Matt, a teenager at the time, dressed up as a pig.

Berni Sarazine and her son Matt take a selfie at the Palace Theater on Nov. 15, 2025, as they wait for Devo to take the stage. “Music [was] playing in the house too,” Matt said, “whether it’s newer stuff or older stuff or just a wide variety of genres.” | Photo courtesy of Berni Sarazine.

Sarazine and her son frequently attend concerts together. Music is always on in their house. Whether it’s hip-hop, alternative, Nirvana, or Nine Inch Nails, the record player is always spinning. Between the two of them, they have over 3,000 vinyl records.

Sarazine still kicks herself to this day for never seeing Prince in concert. But she has performed on the same stage as Prince. Three times, to be exact, Sarazine performed on the main stage at First Avenue.

She began singing solo in 1994, naming herself The Trailer Park Queen. By 1997, that had turned into a multi-person band. Sarazine’s on-stage persona has taken on many different names, such as Nurse Nasty — which featured her dressed up in a nurse costume — Whole Lotta Love, and her second band, Best Bitch in Show.

Justin Marreel, Berni Sarazine, Christine Hambone Chillin’ and Jilleo Candyhands perform as members of Best Bitch in Show at Grumpy’s in downtown Minneapolis in 2018. Marreel died unexpectedly at 43. “He was an incredible musician,” Sarazine said. | Photo courtesy of Berni Sarazine.

Sarazine still performs sometimes as the Trailer Park Queen, but she is a full-time student now. 49 years after graduating high school, Sarazine is at the U of M. In class, she will strike up a conversation with whomever and loves to tell her stories. She left a lasting impression on Spanish professor Mary Pogatshnik, who taught her in the fall semester.

“Berni was always 100% herself,” Pogatshnik said. “She seemed like a natural extrovert, and folks like that always make a class extra fun. Even if others in the class are not as energetic or outgoing, they know from watching Bernie that they can always pipe up and say or ask whatever they like.”

When Sarazine was in her 30s, she made a promise to herself — one day, she would go back to school and get a degree. Her coworkers at Figilo wanted to see her get out from behind the grill and go get a degree. At 67, she is, after traversing a bumpy path from northern Minnesota.

“If nothing else, for my own personal enrichment,” Sarazine said. “Even though I’m older, I think that by educating myself more, I can help make this world a better place in some way, shape, or form. You know, there’s nothing wrong with ever educating yourself.”