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Everything Is South of Here

Tales of the Arrowhead

#30 That Which Is Not a Horse, Part 2 of 3

VI And Goldie was going to be on her own this summer. Her mother was a free-lance typists/clerical worker/bookkeeper. In the past she had cut back on work and worked mostly out of the home in the summer to be... Continue Reading →

#29 That Which Is Not a Horse, Part 1 of 3

Newspaper Column “The Third Dimension” by Marigold Matton The Sharper the Knife May 27, 2013 Early every Memorial Day I take out my trumpet, clean it, and tune it. I practice for one hour. I do not want to scare... Continue Reading →

#28 Buck Fever; Time Fever

1953, November Early Saturday morning. A brittle-air opening day of hunting season. Two splashes of bright red stalk through the trees and brush. No sound. No wind. Scents will not carry. Deer will not spook. If care is taken Before... Continue Reading →

#27 Some Eggs Jus’ Don’ Peel, Dammit!

1979, Easter After Easter service I made a hospital pastoral visit and then stepped into the attached nursing home. I found my two residents, Gust and Elma, parked as neighbors in their wheelchairs in the hall. Long they had been... Continue Reading →

#26 Comfort Food

Northeastern Minnesota is, need I tell you, provincial, a condition of which it is in some ways proud, as are, I suppose, most provinces. If you consider it carefully, what region of the United States is not provincial? The more sophisticated... Continue Reading →

#25 Horse Liniment and Sawdust

1957, June Werner Fenstad is lost, lost right in the heart of town. Lost. Or maybe the right word is trapped. By which is meant his two worst predicaments: having nothing to do and being among strangers. Can a person... Continue Reading →

#24 Piddling Under the Botids

1957, June She is a feature of the town: a tiny old woman with a bent back and a cane, heavy skirts to her ankles, a faded red and black plaid winter jacket worn all days except summer days warmer... Continue Reading →

#23 Forgiveness Does Come With a Debt

  1989, September 29 It was fortunate that the high window cannot be opened or the occupant of the window seat might just have tumbled out to fall thirty feet to his death. The large oriel window was cantilevered out... Continue Reading →

#22 Everything Is South of Here

1957, August High on a hill, at the top of a sloping meadow, relaxed against a spruce tree, sat a boy. Beside him: three large oatmeal raisin cookies wrapped in waxed paper and a quart canning jar of well water,... Continue Reading →

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