Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller The sound made us pause in the garden on Saturday afternoon like a couple of muck-covered deer. It sounded like cars on a distant highway, the low, steady sound of rubber hissing on cement, and coming our way in the still air from the southwest. Cindy and  I looked at each other for a second, puzzled. There is no interstate highway connecting Arthyde and Sturgeon Lake. Heck, there are hardly any roads at all. Then we realized that it was a rain shower, its heavy drops hitting the leaves and forest that stretch from Denham west to McGrath, and heading our way . It was pretty darned rainy! We’d never heard rain approach like that before. Usually you feel it in the wind as it switches and swirls and turns cold. Or you smell the ozone, or hear thunder. This was just the simple, powerful sound of a blanket of rain ambling like a huge animal through the woods toward us two hapless gardeners. Sure enough, as the sound grew louder and the highway got cl...

David Heiller The ice storm of 1991 could just as well have been the ice storm of 1891 for a lot of people including our family. It happened last Friday night and Saturday morning, March 22-23. First rain fell, then sleet, then snow. They combined to break trees and power lines with a thick mass of icy gunk. Α lot of people were not only stranded, but they were stranded without electricity and telephones for quite a spell. Usually power outages last only an hour or two, which is a fine commentary on our electric utilities, both the co-ops and Minnesota Power. But this storm left both the telephone and electricity out at our house for 14-plus hours, from 11 p.m. to 2 p.m. the next afternoon. In an ice cave Us “young” people (say age 50 or less) don’t realize how much our lives revolve around electricity until it is suddenly not there. Sud­denly there is no light, no radio (and of course no batteries for the AC-DC radio), no refrigeration, and worst of all for a Saturday ...

by David Heiller Malika and Laura at play ! It was a modern miracle. It happened Saturday. I didn’t know a Saturday could start that way. My daughter and her friend got up early to play. And that’s what the two girls did all day. First they played Monopoly. They counted out the money, And didn’t get sore like when I lose to my honey. They sat in the living room and shook the dice, And laughed at Chance, thought Boardwalk was nice. Laura played Yahtzee and she beat us bad, Me and my honey, but we didn’t get mad. We looked at each other, and whispered secretly, “I can’t believe they’re not watching TV.” Next came the Barbies. I thought it was great. Though I couldn’t follow much because I’m not eight. They scolded and folded their dolls and dresses. I could just picture the upstairs messes. Kids and mud and water. But I do remember what Laura said to me: “Hey, we haven’t watch...

David Heiller It started with Alvin Jensen’s scrap wood. Alvin, 82, had cleaned out his basement a few weeks back, and had filled a large plastic bag with pieces of scrap wood from his various woodworking projects, things like birdhouses, puzzles, rocking horses, and baskets. He stopped me one morning and asked if I could use it. Of course, I said yes; I’ve never met a piece of wood I didn’t like, and neither has my woodstove. (LESSON NUMBER OΝE: Never turn down free firewood.) A few days later, Alvin came into the American and wondered if I wanted half of cord of wood in his basement. Alvin and Marie. “It’s pretty dry,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s been there since the early 1970s.” Alvin, like many of his peers, scrimps and saves and Prepares (with a capital P) for emergencies. He had bought a cord of wood from Ed Ellson back when the Arab Oil Embargo hit, and put in a wood stove in his basement to be Prepared. But for the some reason, the chimney wouldn’t dr...

David Heiller There’s something about ice fishing with two kids that can put a little humility in you, and some pretty good food, too. First of all, they’ll probably out -fish you. That’s what happened on Sunday afte rn oon on Fox Lake, west of Willow River. Noah had pulled a crappie onto the ice be fo re I had even put a minnow on Mollie’s p o le. It wasn’t anything to rave about, only th e size of my hand. But Noah was excited, and I couldn’t blame him. Is there anything mo re exciting than watching a bobber disappear down a hole in the ice? Sure, it’s probably a dinky panfish. But may be , just may be , it’s that five pound largemouth th at you’ve dreamed about, th e kind Bob Dutcher likes to tote around town every fall. Or a 20 -pound nor th ern that would look g re at at Stanton Lum be r, next to Nick Woro be l’s lunker. Catching a fish through the ice is like opening day of baseball, where hope sp ri ngs eternal in the human b re ast. May be the Twins will win it ...

David Heiller There’s nothing like being sick to give you a healthy perspective on life. Everywhere you go these days, you find people with colds, flu, upset stomachs, fevers, shaking, aching, coughing, blowing noses that would make Rudolph jealous, they’re so red. But if you’re like me, you don’t really FEEL for these folks right away. You look at them and say to yourself, “Αw, come on, it can’t be THAT bad.” You know they’re sick, but you think in a righteous tone, “I never get that sick.” Napping David with Rosie, 2006. He wasn't the most sympathetic  guy when others were sick.  "Go for a walk, you'll feel better," was his stock line.  Sometimes he got a taste of it though! Then one morning your ears start to ring, and your stomach turns inside out, and soon your head feels like a  hammer-mill  and your tongue feels like a doormat for the Iraqi Army and your chest starts to wheeze like Florian Chmielewski’s accordion. Then sudd...

David Heiller The stars stood sharply in the cold Christmas Eve sky as Noah (nine) and I headed to Faith Lutheran Church last Tuesday night. I pointed out Orion, who stood guard over our mailbox. Orion usually guards the outhouse when I see him, but the season is moving, and Orion is moving with it. He’ll visit the outhouse in a few hours. I pointed out the three stars of his belt, the stars that outlined his broad shoulders, his knees, his sword. Noah liked the sword part. We headed up the road.   Α   moon just-past-full was rising on our right, like a squished orange. We watched it climb above the snow and brush. It would soon blot out the weaker stars of the sky, leaving only stalwarts like Orion and the Big Bear. The Bear arched above Couillard’s house, but I couldn’t see a bear. I’ve never seen the Bear in Ursula Major, but it’s hard not to see its more common name and shape:   the Big Dipper. I pointed the dipper out to Noah, and he spotted it...

David Heiller SUNDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1991: Ralph Wahlquist of Askov came into the office last week to pick up a package of items which Lillian Monson had left. Ralph was going to take them to residents at Moose Lake Regional Treatment Center. Ralph and Clara Wahlquist On top of the box was a bag with some fresh fruit in it. “She gave me that to give to Clara,” Ralph said, referring to his wife, who is a resident at Mercy Health Care Center. Mrs. Monson, who lives down Markville way, is the coordinator for a Christmas gift drive for treatment center residents. It’s quite a task, I imagine, but she does it without complaint. She also takes the time to think about people like Clara Wahlquist, about how she might appreciate a fresh banana or apple. Christmas brings out good deeds in us. At Willow River Elementary, teachers came up with a new idea in place of the traditional gift exchange. This year, students are bringing in non-perishable food items, which will be donated t...

David Heiller WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER   13, 1991: It’s 8:15 a.m. My back is sore from digging Binti’s grave. It’s funny how soft the earth is under 18 inches of snow. Binti is resting on the rug in front of the refrigerator. She likes that spot, and won’t move, even though it’s hard for us to get things. Back in the old days, we would have made her move, but not lately. She’s had royal treatment lately. After 12½ years, she’s earned it. Binti and the family the day before we said good bye. I could write a book about Binti. Most people who have grown old with a dog could. Now it’s the final page. She can’t shake hands anymore, like before when she would almost bowl you over with her big left paw. She can’t hear a sound. She won’t eat, not even canned dog food. I never thought I would buy a dog canned food, but we did for Binti about a month ago, when she started looking so gaunt. Now she won’t even finish a can. About all she can do is wag her tail, and even that is we...