Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller Standing from left are Peggy Whitehead, ad sales; Diane Delzer, proofreader; Sara Poslusney, cute kid; Donna Cronin, ad sales; Lynn Storrar, typesetter and bookkeeping; Chris O’Brien, typesetter; Cindy Jensen, typesetter, circulation manager, and writer; Hazel Serritslev, typesetter, subscriptions, and writer; Kaarin Johnsen, typesetter, bookkeeper, and circulation; Darrell Johnsen, photographer; Ardis Jensen, ad sales, subscriptions, and typesetter; Coral Popowitz, ad sales; Tim Peebles, ad sales and delivery; Sandy Koecher, ad sales; Jay Poslusney, musician and father of cute kid; Carrie Merriman, proofreader and bookkeeper; and Dean Dronen, friendly neighbor, musician, son of Gerald and Gloria. Seated from left are Arla Budd, typesetter and bookkeeping; Cindy and me; and Red Hansen, the all time official Askov American mascot. Arla had the tone of an old school marm. “You can’t go to the meeting, David,” she said. You can’t miss the party!” She had be...

David Heiller Cindy called the morning of my fortieth birthday from Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin. Her dad had died the night before, which drew her away physically but not in spirit. Listen to the radio, she told me. I turned it on just in time to hear the Minnesota Public Radio announcers play a song in my honor: “Laughing River,” by Greg Brown. It was a pleasant coincidence, because a friend had come over the night before to wish me happy birthday, and he had told me about this very song, how much he liked it, how it fit the milestone of getting old. Then the radio played it just for me. It was a good sign for Friday the Thirteenth. (below is a good link to the song) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFhWBR8uBME Collin "playing" David's accordion. Then my kids gave me presents, including a button accordion from Cindy. I had eyed that accordion at a Minneapolis music store for 2½ years. Cindy told the store owner how much I wanted it. The guy remembered me fo...

David Heiller Collin pondered the rock bass the way a bonsai artist ponders a pine tree. He looked at it this way and turned it that way in careful consideration of his next move. It might take minutes. It might take hours. Levi and Collin, fishing at the cabin “Just take the fish off!” his cousin, Levi, finally exclaimed. He was an expert at that of course, because he had taken a crappie off his fishing hook just the day before. It had taken him 20 minutes, and the fish looked like a used tube of toothpaste when he released it. But he had indeed removed the hook, and now that feat was serving him well. “I will!” Collin shot back. The two boys are like brothers, and that means the gloves come off every so often. “You’re two years older than me and I can do it,” Levi jabbed. “Not two years, only a year and a half,” Collin replied. “And you fish a lot more than me. You go 10 times a year, and I only go five.” “But you’re two years older than me.” “Nuh-uh.” “Uh-huh....

David Heiller Our garden has turned into a Dairy Queen, thanks to the sweet peas. It’s a miracle, I tell you, a miracle! Of course it all starts with planting the peas. A perfect job for little Collin hands! They started ripening about two weeks ago. At first we found only half a dozen at a time, small in the pod, and growing much too slow for our impatient tastes. But is there anything more worth waiting for, sweeter, more delicious, than that first, fresh sweet pea? We didn’t think so. Noah would joke after supper, “Let’s go have dessert, Dad,” and Mollie would think we were heading into the Dairy Queen. He would lead us to the garden and the sweet peas, and we would start picking and eating. Mollie at first was disappointed. Sweet peas are NOT ice cream to a five-year-old. Plus she has trouble cracking open the pods. But after we handed her a few, she realized that the dessert joke wasn ’ t far from the truth. The pea patch is a haven of sorts. When I get up in...