Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller  The Good Samaritans came through again:  It happened last Friday afternoon. Our daughter, Malika, was on her way to a wedding in Redwood Falls. About half way there, she had a fender bender. It wasn’t a bad one, but it did something to the car she was driving so that she could not shift out of drive. She was an adult, but when things go really wrong: this is who she is in your heart. It’s an automatic transmission, so Mollie was fine as long as she didn’t shut the engine off. So she pulled off the road and shut the engine off. She claims I told her to do that. Maybe I did. When she called Cindy and me, we might have panicked a bit. We were traveling ourselves, and felt very helpless trying to talk our daughter through the situation while we were in our own vehicle. So Mollie was stuck on the side of Highway 2, somewhere east of Cass Lake, in a car that wouldn’t start. I called Sebald Motors, thinking they might have a solution for me. They’ve sa...

David Heiller No, I’m not writing an article about my cute little kids. I’ll leave that to Julie. (I like your columns, Julie!) This is much more controversial. Something befitting a cigar-chomping editor who keeps a bottle of whiskey in his desk drawer. That leaves me out, too. This camping stuff is exhausting business. I want to talk about the delicate subject of naps. I am sold on naps, and it’s time to proclaim my faith, publicly, without shame or fear of ridicule. For some reason, our society has given naps a bum rap. Don’t believe me? The next time you see someone who is dog-tired in the middle of the day suggest that he or she go take a nap. He’ll either look at you like you’re crazy. Hey, it ain’t macho to take a little-bitty nap. Or he’ll smile self-consciously and say, “Yeah right,” as he pours himself another cup of coffee. I must admit I still have a little of that latter chap in me. But more and more I am losing that worry about what people migh...

David Heiller We pushed off the grassy bank and into the dark waters of the Reno Bottoms on Saturday morning, heading for parts unknown. A good canoe trip is like that, and there are definitely parts unknown in the bottoms. We had a couple fishing poles and a couple hours. Is there anything in life sweeter than that? My nephew, Alex, sat in the middle, behind his girlfriend, Laura. I was in the stern. View of the river on the way down to the spillway,  which begins the Reno Bottoms adventure. As we worked our way along the eastern shore of Running Slough, the feeling of freedom that comes from being in a canoe hit me. No worries about getting hung up. When that happens, and it did many times that day, you paddle over and retrieve your lure. It almost always comes free from the right angle. No worries about making the perfect cast either. It’s hard not to make the perfect cast when you can paddle to the perfect spot. Alex did just that, and had a nice tussle for ab...