Behind the Lines: by David Heiller

David Heiller The cabin looked great as we moved our load of supplies in for a week’s vacation on Trout Lake two weeks ago. Carpeting on the living room floor and in the bedrooms. A clean bathroom, nice shower, no slime on the floor. Two beds and a crib in the kids’ room, and a big bed in our room. Cindy unpacked the food, putting enough for an army encampment into the refrigerator and cupboards. I tucked the clothes into the dressers, enough duds for an army encampment too, except for mine. I brought only three shirts, two pairs of shorts, and some socks. If I had packed the food, we would have had bread and water for a week. That’s why Cindy had let me pack only for myself. The two kids took off running the minute they hit the cabin floor. There were no bookcases to dodge, no mountains of toys or televisions or stereos. Just pure floor space, a small gym to them for running and falling. Noah and Malika ready for canoing Everything looked perfect. I breathed a sig...

 David Heiller Birthdays come but once a year. But if you have two kids six days apart, then throw in a grandmother and a friend or two, birthdays seem unending. Our son, Noah, celebrated his third birthday June 12. But his friend, Joey, was born two weeks earlier. When Joey had his birthday party and Noah attended, he was included in the celebration. Noah and Joey on Joey's third birthday. “Joe’s three now?” he asked on the ride home, his stomach full of cake and ice cream. “Yes, he’s three,” I answered. “I’m three too?” “No, not yet. You’re almost three.” Then one week before Noah’s birthday, we went to Minneapolis to his grandmother’s house. She held a birthday party for her son, but made it a combo effort since Noah’s was only a week later and our daughter, Malika, was born a week after that. It gets complicated. But Noah filled upon cake and ice cream, sang happy birthday, blew out candles, opened presents, and asked once again: “Am I three now?” “No, not ...

David Heiller Getting a swingset is a milestone in a child’s life. Assembling one is a milestone in an adult’s life. The brand new swingset! They loved it! I started assembling our Flexible-Flyer swingset—or “play gym” as they are now called—at 6:30 p.m. Friday night. I finished at 1:30 Sunday afternoon. In between working, I ate and slept. That’s all. The swingset cost $139.00, at the store, but counting my labor at minimum wage, it cost $203.10. No one who watched me put it together would pay minimum wage though. A sheltered workshop could have done better. I suspected trouble when I opened the box, and found the owner’s manual. It was 13 pages long. KEEP THIS MANUAL, it warned in stern bold face letters. “It contains assembly instructions, anchoring tips, maintenance and safety tips, and ordering information.” There was even a CAUTION on the front. I read it nervously, suspecting something from the surgeon general: Assembling swingsets may be hazardous to your mental he...

By David Heiller An Easter miracle occurred last weekend. When we left for a family get-together in Minneapolis Saturday morning, a foot of snow covered the landscape at our home in Birch Creek Township. When we returned Monday afternoon, all the snow had melted. It was like seeing a nephew you hadn’t seen in years, and suddenly he is a foot taller, with a deeper voice and stubble on his face. Malika  and Miss Emma outside  in the small window between "The Snow is GONE! and the mud is here!" But what a sight on Monday. The woodpile gaped like an open wound. I located the pile of slab-wood that didn’t get stacked before our Thanksgiving storm. The bent hood of an old Ford truck emerged, plus sheets of tin for a roofing project. And those rusty band saw blades from an old sawmill were curled where I left them. Waiting. The garden sneered at us, cornstalks and Brussels sprouts leaning this way and that. Weren’t we supposed to clean that last fall, a...

David Heiller I saw two men approaching on the street.  As they came together, a dawn of joy and recognition blazed in each face. They kissed cheeks, shook hands firmly, lingeringly, and barraged each other in loud voices: “How are you? Fine, thank you, and you? By the grace of God, I am well. How is your family? By God’s grace, all is well with me and mine. And you, is everything well? Everything is fine thank you, God’s grace is shining fully.” A street scene in the city where David lived for two years. This continued, in Arabic of course, for a full half minute. I smiled in childish wonder, thinking I was witnessing the momentous rejoining of two brothers separated at birth and discovering each other on this dusty Moroccan street. My disillusionment soon followed. The men, after the last “May God be with you,” abruptly pulled apart like clashing symbols and continued on their separate ways, as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. Indeed, nothing extraordinary had oc...

David Heiller “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Monday Night Fights.” The spotlight shines on the small mat, as the house lights dim, and the crowd suddenly murmurs to a hush. The announcer’s voice rings with the hardness of metal. He’s seen fights before, lots of them. But nothing like this one. “Ladieeeees and gennnntlemennnnn,” he continues. “ In this corner, weighing two hundred pounds, standing six feet, one half inch, the defending Diaper Dad of Birch Creek Township, David Heiiiiiiiiiller.” Five thousand dads cheer, stomp their feet, nudge each other in the ribs nodding to their Great White Hope. Malika  Squirm-Worm Heiller practicing one of her infamous moves “And in this corner, weighing 21 pounds, standing 29 inches, the reigning Squirm-Worm, Mollie Heiiiiller.” Now the crowd erupts with squeals, gurgles, coos and cries from 5,000 babies and their Moms who have come to watch t...

by David Heiller The Transformation began about two months ago. This Transformation has a capital T, but it is anything but holy. Diabolical might be a better description. I was attempting to put a 10-foot piece of roll roofing onto the garden shed, in a pretty stiff breeze. With my carpentry and coordination, that is a two person job. There were two, of us, but one was my daughter, Malika. Being only 14 months old, she didn’t count. Not much scared Malika. I rode that roll roofing like a magic carpet a top the garden shed, trying to keep an eye on Mollie, who was playing on the swing-set. As I put one nail in place, the wind lifted the other end out of place. I turned around to nail it straight, glancing toward the swing-set for the kid. She was gone. That didn’t worry me, since the only real danger at our house is the county road at the end of the driveway, and I had a clear view of that. So I concentrated on the rolling roof. As I nailed it into place, I glanced...

David Heiller Minnesotans are a humble folk. We aren’t known for our decisiveness, our positive thinking. Ask someone how they’re doing, and they’ll likely reply, “Not too bad,” or “I can’t complain,” “Pretty good, I guess.” Even my three-year-old son realizes his humble fate. He thinks we live in Maybe-Soda, and Grandma Olson lives in Maybe-Applis. It’s a state-wide shyness flowing from Lake Wobegon to Lake City, from Worthington to Warroad. Steve Cannon of WCCO is perhaps the only person in the state with relative humility, and that’s just during the weather report.  Noah  thinks we live in Maybe-Soda,  and Grandma Olson lives in Maybe-Applis. I had some personal insight into al this on Sunday. Last week’s weather had broken all kinds of records. Duluth had 86 degrees on May 28, International Falls: 91. We were somewhere in between. The warm weather held through Friday, as we got our garden ready for spring planting. I even took a day off for the ritual. ...