Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller “Dere’s Pastor Judas (Judith),” Malika remarked in a clear voice as we walked down the aisle at church last Sunday. “Sshh,” Cindy whispered, as we swing into the fifth pew. “You have to talk like this.” “You have to talk like dis?” Malika answered in her clear voice. “Sshh,” I tried, “no, like this.” “Like dis?” she asked in that same voice. “Dere’s Pastor Judas.” Malika at two: more at home in a tree, than in a pew. Cindy and I sighed in unison. Malika had wanted to go to church with Noah, her four-year-old brother who can now behave in church relatively well. We knew we had to give her a sporting chance. Malika squirmed off Mom’s lap, and walked to the far end of the pew. She eyed Mark Johnson carefully. Mark had sat down in the same pew with us, not knowing he would have been better off in a hornet’s nest. Then Malika stood up and grinned at the folks behind us, a pew full of teenagers. Malika squeezed past me and grinned across the aisle to the p...

David Heiller A column in the Duluth News Tribune on October 10 got me thinking. John Rosemond wrote that a family should eat a minimum of five relaxed evening meals per week where there isn’t the need to go somewhere immediately afterward. Miss Emma joined us after dinner. (I never used my  whole chair Emma found this habit of mine useful.) His point in the column was that family values and strength of character are built around places like the supper table. He writes: “Unfortunately, too many children these days are growing up in the back seats of their parents’ cars, talking to the backs of their parents’ heads and eating fast food while on the run from one largely irrelevant activity to another.” I agree with his point of view. It’s something our family does every morning and most evenings. We sit down together and eat together. At the breakfast meal, it’s a chance to see what the kids have going for their day, or what Cindy and I have planne...

David Heiller We hadn’t been on the water more than five minutes when Tom pointed out the flock of geese. They were on the Minnesota side of the river, and heading south in a hurry. Then another flock, and another. Tom remarked on what a great sight that was, how lucky we were to see it. Tom Roster, my brother-in-law, teaches about shooting and ballistics, particularly non-toxic shot. He’s famous, in fact. He makes his living with ducks and geese. Tom Roster and the sheepshead. Yet there he was on the Mississippi River last week, getting excited seeing all those geese heading to the deep south of Illinois and Indi­ana. We can thank global warming for their shorter and shorter migrations. Tom made that point, and I agreed. It didn’t take much longer until we had settled over a wing dam. Tom found it with a depth finder. He said a fisherman is blind without one, but I had the feeling Tom could have found it with his eyes closed and in his sleep. He discovered it about 5...