HAPPY NEW YEAR!

    The world of 2023 will be a poorer place without Addie Vig, who died yesterday. She brightened every place she went. For a number of years she was activities director of the Good Samaritan Home, Mohall, ND. That was a perfect situation for her with her abundant positive energy, hearty laugh, and story telling ability. Addie defined common sense.

   It was my privilege to know Duane and Addie Vig, their three children and also their parents. Duane’s parents, Oscar and Annie Vig were living in the house on the acreage that was described in yesterday’s post. Addie’s parents, Paul and Alma Neubauer, moved to Mohall about the same time as the Negstads. Paul died soon after, and his funeral was one of the first at which I presided in Mohall...it may have been the first. Alma babysat our children and she, too, was fount of common sense.

   Duane’s and Addie’s daughter, Joni a high school student, was Lisa’s first piano teacher. Mohall only offered a few weeks of kindergarten in the spring. Lisa was a bored five year old so Joni stepped in to teach her piano. Lisa continued piano lessons through our moves well into high school.

   May God bless the memory of Addie Vig.

Takk for alt,

Al

Remembering Duane and Addie Vig

     Continuing yesterday’s posting about Duane and Addie Vig, with Addie’s impending death many memories came back. Duane, who was on my call committee, had various enterprises. He farmed a couple of quarters (a quarter section is 160 acres) of land. In addition he had automotive service station in town and a bulk delivery service delivering gasoline and diesel fuel. Duane and Addie lived in a new house on the south edged of town. They also owned a house on a small acreage on the north side. And thereby hangs a tale, or two.

    Duane and I joined in a small venture. On his acreage his father and mother lived in the house. There were also a barn and a chicken coop, both empty initially. About fifty miles east of Mohall, lived my cousin Clarice, with her dairy farmer husband, Alvin. Dairy farmers don’t need the bull calves that are born to their dairy cows. Duane and I bought some of those calves and raised them for sale in Duane’s buildings.

     When I arrived in Mohall the church, Zion Lutheran, did not have Christmas Eve services, just Christmas Day. The evening services are not very convenient for farmers. With a barn so proximate to town the church youth group decided to sponsor a Christmas Eve service in Duane’s barn. Why the tradition didn’t continue I’ve forgotten but subsequent Eve services were in church.

    It was amusing that in preparation for the service in the barn the youth spent much effort cleaning the barn. Of course there were no special efforts at cleaning the stable for Jesus birth.

Takk for alt,

Al .

                                        The late Duane Vig.

Heavy Heart!

     Addie Vig gave me a very significant gift. Sometime during my first call, to Zion Lutheran Church Mohall, ND, Addie and I were talking. In her straightforward, non-hostile way she challenged my defensiveness. Knowing Addie, as I did, I knew she meant well. It forced me to examine myself and change my behavior. That was a great gift that has served me well ever since. Defensiveness simply is not helpful. It was about a year ago, in a telephone conversation, that I thanked her for doing that.

     A few years ago Addie, and her husband, Duane, moved from Mohall to Bismarck, ND., to be near their daughter, Joni. When I called Addie today Joni answered the phone. The news was not good. She said she expects Addie’s death in a day or two. Addie’s in a care facility and comatose. Joni, and her sister, are taking turns sitting vigil bedside.

   About every six weeks I’d call Addie for a chat. She was a bundle of positive energy, a great story teller, and always a day brightener. A call to Addie would always boost my mood. Her impending death makes me very sad. In future blogs I’ll share more about Addie, Duane and Joni. When I got the news I called a mutual friend to have someone with whom to commiserate which was very helpful.

Takk for alt

Al

Options

    In the elevator at the OFH there is a daily posting of the activities offered for the day. Today’s listing was for more than a dozen offerings. Seldom do I participate, because, as I told friends I didn’t come here to be entertained. These activities are very important for others. Many of the inmates don’t drive which limits their participation in events out of the building. Many have moved here from a distance so they are not connected to the community. Having lived in the metro area since 1988, I have many connections for activities out of the OFH.

   On December 23, there was advertised at 11:00 a.m., “Meet And Greet Your Neighbor.” The event was scheduled to be held in the Bistro. Entertaining an internal debate about attending I channeled Joanne and another friend. That was decisive as I clearly heard them say “Oh, just go!” So I went and….I was the only one there! 😄

Takk for alt,

Al

Wisdom, where you find it.

     This age in which we live is inundated in information, really overloaded. Yet, some valuable learning is in danger of being lost. Think of the multitude of languages that are on the verge of being lost as the speakers die.. Anthony Doerr, author of All The Light We Cannot See, in his new novel, Cloud Cuckoo Land, sets some of it in 15^th century Constantinople. There we find an eight year old orphan girl, Annie, (Little Orphan Annie 😀) who bribes a tutor to teach her to read. As the tutor is dying he says ‘“Repository” he finally says, “you know this word? A resting place. A text—a book—is a resting place for the memories of people who have lived before. A way for the memory to stay fixed after the soul has traveled on….But books, like people, die. They die in fires or floods or in the mouths of worms or at the whims of tyrants. If they are not safeguarded, they go out of the world. And when a book goes out of the world, the memory dies a second death.”’ PP 51-52 This is interesting to think about in this age when book banning is again popular. Books can be banned but ideas cannot.

   Annie is being taught to read Greek. It’s an interesting challenge for me to try reading the Greek before it’s translated. It has been a long time since I used Greek.

Takk for alt,

Al

                 Easter Sunday, April 1, 2018, Joanne's 82nd birthday and the last meal she ate 

at the table.

     Joanne would be proud and she would have loved it. It’s a tradition that Lars, Melissa, Evy and Sella, invite Joanne’s brother’s family over during Christmas. There were 17(?) guests for a chili supper tonight. Joanne would be pleased that this tradition with her family continues. She would also have been in her glory visiting with her nieces, nephews and their children. A good time was had by all and Al, too.

Takk for alt,

Al

                       Joanne with her siblings and their spouses.

Christmas Day!

    It was a wonderful day with the family. Their proximity to the OFH is a great blessing to me that I do not take for granted. Now that we're past winter solstice the day light lengthens, even if only a few seconds a day. That makes me glad and gives me hope.The gift of four bluebird nesting boxes gives hope of enhancing bird nesting. The three mounted last year entertained nests of tree swallows which were welcome. Perhaps there will be seven nest this year of swallows or bluebirds. 

Takk for alt,

Al

Merry Christmas to you both!

 Lisa's tonight Lars' tomorrow!

Takk for alt,

Al

Lucky number!

     What’s your lucky number? Lucky numbers have never been a part of my life but were I to choose one today it would be 14. That really seems an unusual lucky number doesn’t it? 3 or 7, or some single digit number seems a more obvious choice. Why 14?

    Today I had me fourteenth colonoscopy, and for the first time the doctor recommended that I not come back! Ever since my first one at age 50, it’s been “see you next year” or “see you in two years” etc. Even at the last previous one it was “see you in two years” though most people are excused at age 80. No polyps today and the risk of injury outweighs value of having one. Do you realize what this means? Never again having to drink a gallon of golytely! So on an icy morning Lisa made her final trip to deliver me to a colonoscopy.

   Likely without the regular screening I would have died from colon cancer. With that in mind I never complained about the prep or the process. Deeply grateful for good medical care and medical insurance I tolerated the discomfort with good cheer, mindful of all those who lack such access. Certainly happy to be finished!

Takk for alt,

Al

When asked, Bly admitted to watching perhaps one hour of television a week. He scoffed, “Television is the most disgusting form of not doing that we have. How can we have art if entertainment is everywhere?”  Robert Bly quoted in today's Writer's Almanac

Impossible

    When I was growing up on the windswept prairie pictures of snow piles on fence posts seemed impossible. Snow always comes sideways, often with enough force to sting exposed skin. Last night we had 9.5” of impossible snow. It piled on branches, posts, anything outside. (See picture below.) The wind is scheduled tomorrow.

   Back in my snow shoveling days I’d say “I prefer cold to snow.” Why? Because you don’t have to shovel snow. Though I do remember how cold it was, when after supper, we have to put on coats, etc. and go to the barn to do the milking. One of the perks of the OFH is not having to shovel. Another good thing is parking in a heated garage, it was 63 degrees when I went to my card.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                             Impossible.

Outstanding!

    Pile on the superlatives! Spectacular, sensational, splendid, magnificent, amazing, marvelous, etc. Friends said “you don’t want to miss it.” They were certainly correct. Why didn’t I take some pictures? Our food services director at the OFH likes to do special meals and food presentations. It was the annual OFH Christmas Party. WOW! Set up in the bistro there was long serving line, cold cuts, hors d'oeuvres, pastries and complimentary wine.

    WOW! That was certainly a ‘feel good event’. Perhaps the cost is hidden someplace in out rental fees but, if so, it’s worth it. Seating spilled over into the library where I sat with six friends. It’s my first experience of a food extravaganza here and I eagerly anticipate the next one.

Takk for alt,

Al

Reflecting with gratitude!

     What a difference a year makes! This time last year, with marvelous help from my family, we were actively (frantically?) downsizing from the condo. It was accomplished in three weeks, and I moved into the OFH on January 7. There were a few things left to do in the condo but that’s when I began living on Old Lexington Ave.

    Today as I reflected on my good fortune I was struck by how lucky I was that this attractive apartment, one of the last ones in the building, was available when we came for a tour in October, 2021. That availability triggered the downsizing and the sale of the condo. Closing on that sale June 27, wouldn’t have happened otherwise. Now, when the winter closed in on The Little House, I have this refuge of easy living.

    A friend was concerned that my calling it the 'Old Folk’s Home' might mean I didn’t like. On the contrary, calling it the Old Folk’s Home is not pejorative, it’s affectionate. Last year, when I was here for an extended period, I had thirty eight radiation treatments across town. So this will be first extended time of simply enjoying the amenities to which I look forward.

Takk for alt,

Al

                        Joanne would have loved life in the OFH.

Advent Reflection

    During Advent and Lent members of Grace University Lutheran are recruited to compose devotionals. Each day a composition is emailed to members. The ones this Advent have been particularly good. They appear in the email inbox by 6:00 am providing a good start for the day.

   Jody’s Advent post today struck a powerful cord when she led off with this quotation. “A loving person lives in a loving world. A hostile person lives in a hostile world: everyone you meet is your mirror.” Ken Keyes, Jr. Sometimes in sermons I’d speak of the powerful gift we were given to be co-creators with God, of the universe we inhabit. Biblically we’re “made in the image of God.” What does this mean? It means; at least in part, like God we have the ability to co-create our world. Our co-creating is either for good or ill.

Takk for alt,

Al

2011, the last year that there was much snow at The Little House.

Mail

    Mail is where I find it! Because of The Little House I get a free post office box in Sinai. Some mail arrives there. Having lived 10+ years at the condo downtown Minneapolis some mail is addressed there and is forwarded. Now, as an inmate of the OFH, it is my principal address so receives the most mail. Absent for extended times from the OFH a friend empties my mailbox so the letter carrier isn’t tempted to “return mail to sender.”

   The Christmas mail, including pictures, that finds me, is greatly appreciated, though I no longer do Christmas mailings. It’s a blessing to be remembered, and another gift for which to be grateful. A year ago at this time we were scrambling to downsize so I could move to the OFH. The stuff I shed in that process has not been missed, though I was tickled to have my china, silver and crystal used for a Thanksgiving meal, at which I was a guest.

   Yup, life is good!

Takk for alt,

Al

Downsizing is inevitable, the question is “who is going to do it?”

The wonderful women from St. James that served the food at our50th wedding anniversary event.

OFH

      Kaia and I just arrived at the OFH. Two hundred thiry one miles, the middle third of which were slippery. Highway 23 from Green Valley to Cottonwood was the worst. Buffalo  Ridge the best. Why? My guess is that the Ridge elevation turned rain into snow unlike the lower roads which were ice covered. Travel took five hours in place of the typical four, but no big deal...I'm retired you know. Now I expect to be an inmate of the OFH until spring. The dinner last night with family, on a cold, windy blustery night, was a good send off. Family there, family here😀😀😀.

     This afteroon family is coming to decorate my cell for Christmas. After that it's dinner at the OFH and the Messiah at the Basilica! Do I have it made? Yes, and I'm totally grateful!👍

Takk for alt,

Al

               Look what followed me to the OFH, plus lefse and cardimum bread!

Dinner plans.....

     By default I’ve become the S.D. family convener. When I’ve chosen a venue and time I send a group text. Numbers vary, from three to ten. Tonight nine replied that they plan to attend. It will be good to see them before Christmas. Craft Chophouse in Brookings is tonight’s choice.

     As this is written at 4:00 pm the temperature is 17 degrees and the wind northwest at 19mph. Likely we will not eat outside. The low temperature predicted overnight is 4. By next Friday the predicted low is minus 19. Mosquito season seems to be over for this year.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                The late Gunnar, the 4th springer.

Surprise!

     Two possible narratives are suggested by this mornings event. The first is in the form of the old joke. Why don’t you leave your car unlocked downtown in August? If you do it will be full of zucchini when you return.

    The second was suggested to me after Joanne died. A friend said that I should expect widows at my door bearing casseroles. Of course that has never happened. Josh and Mark are the only ones who come to the door of The Little House.

    This summer the truck was parked on Main Street. Returning to it, I found two jars of rhubarb jam. That was no mystery because I’d offered Pam rhubarb from the plants in my backyard. Today’s surprise is a mystery. Opening the truck door this morning I found a tin of cookies on the seat. It’s a five pound tin of Danish Cookies, by Kelsen, 28% butter. There’s not a clue to its origin? Sure beats zucchini! They certainly are good! Do youthink I should start locking my truck? 😁

Takk for alt,

Al

25 mph wind with snow today, more like an old fashioned blizzard.

                             Cookie surprise!

Winter Storm

    Not knowing for certain. I assume it was Grandpa Negstad whobegan planting trees around his homestead shanty on the west edge of Brookings County, SD. Dad, Albert Negstad, continued the practice, Grandpa’s great-grandson, Wayne who, lives there now has planted more trees. Those trees were planted in a ‘u’ shape with the east side open. Prevailing winds were westerly. By the time I came on the scene the trees were mature, offering a wonderful wind-break protection from winter storms.

    It seemed blizzards typically lasted three days followed by intense cold. The wind would howl in the trees and the tall ponderosa pine behind the house would sway in and sing. While the wind blew the yard around the house was totally protected. School would be canceled for three ‘snow days’. Huge snow drifts piled up and made great places to play. When I heard that Interstate Highway 90, from Chamberlain, SD to the Wyoming border, was closed for the current storm, it brought back memories of being snowbound.

     he St. Louis style rain and snow of the past few days is quite different. It was helpful that it warmed enough last night to melt the ice from the trees. There was significant rainfall but no way to measure because rain gauges have been removed to avoid freezing. The accumulated moisture should soak into the soil where it fell because there’s not much frost in the ground. Better it lies on the fields, and soaks in, than piled in snow drifts in the trees.

Takk for alt,

Al

Local schools were closed for a 'snow day' today.

                              Holding a trophy pheasant. 😁

Finally rain!

     Awakening this morning to shiny snow was a clue that it rained last night, actually much of the night. It’s also rained much of the day. Where is this, St. Louis? The truck standing in front of The Little House was caked with ice. With more rain predicted perhaps it should be moved to the shop.

     After trying two approaches of getting it into the shop that idea was abandoned. Moving a car out of the way was successful, except that the space was so small the car doors wouldn’t open. Currently in the shop (garage) are 4 cars, a pick-up, three tractors, a 16” trailer, sprayer and two motorcycles. The truck will have to stand in the rain until I take my car out.

    Perhaps I should have stayed at the OFH.😜

Takk for alt,

Al

                                    An icy truck this morning.

White Christmas?

     After spending a night at doggy camp Kaia and I were reunited on our way to The Little House. The ground is white upon our return. Someone had shoveled my sidewalk. Texting a ‘thank you’ to Josh my next door neighbor elicited the response “I didn’t do it but I should have.” So the mystery remains but it’s certainly I nice ‘welcome back’ gesture. If the forecasts are accurate some snow shoveling may be in my future.

    A couple of letters to the editor today reported rude behavior spoiling some persons experience of Les Miserables. Fortunately that was not my experience. Though a woman ahead of me checked the time on her phone a couple of times. The performance up to the intermission was long. The seats are such that once I was seated I could not move my feet at all. So glad I went!

Takk for alt,

Al

                   An old picture but it looks much like this now.

Les Miserables

 

   Well that was a surprise. The music was superb as was the performance and the costuming, but that was expected. What took my breath away were the sets. Having had season tickets to the Guthrie for a number of years wonderful sets were the norm. But nothing compared with the sets at Les Miserables. When I thought I’d seen it all something more spectacular. Attendance simply to see the sets would be worthwhile. What a treat, the entire experience. WOW! WOW! Both of you may already have seen it, so you know.

Takk for alt,

Al

                                         Outside the theater.

Three Books

    Well he’s popular! Richard Osman has sold over three million books. Does that mean they are good? Well, they’re entertaining at least. Three are in The Thursday Murder Club series. The Club consists of a widow, a former spy, a labor leader and a psychiatrist. Meeting on Thursdays in the Old Folks Home, where they live, they tackle cold murder cases that the police have not solved.

   In order the books are The Thursday Murder Club, The Man Who Died Twice, and The Bullet That Missed. Having read the three, while enjoyable, the hype puzzles me. There is subtle British humor and funny twists and turns. Some of the humor comes from the setting in an OFH. Enjoying them all, each book seemed a bit better than the previous one.

   While I’m not likely to become a fan of murder mysteries I will read the 4^th in the series when it’s published hence.

Takk for alt,

Al

Eerie!

     The OFH is my official and legal residence. Owning a house in Sinai gives me a free post office box in the local Post Office there. Yet, most of my mail arrives at the OFH. The OFH management offers no help with mail that accumulates during an inmate’s absence. A very kind friend came to my rescue. Fearing that mail accumulating in the small p. o. box in the OFH might be returned to sender, he volunteered to collect it. He has a key to my mailbox which he passes to another friend if he absents the OFH. When I return from The Little House he hands over a grocery sack of mail.

    Returning to the OFH yesterday I attended Carolyn Tonneson’s funeral. After the funeral and returning to the OFH I went to collect my mail from the friend who gathers it for me. What did I find in it? A picture and Christmas letter from the Tonnesons. It announced her cancer diagnosis and their plans to move into the OFH, a few doors from me. This is a clue of how fast her demise came.

     Of course I treasure the picture and message. It did prompt another burst of grief. Now her dear husband, Jim, will move here without her, even as he navigates the land of grief. He, too, will live with presence of absence.

Takk for alt,

Al

Carolyn Tonneson, October 30, 1946-December 1, 2022

     Carolyn’s obituary at her funeral today said this, “Carolyn became a clinical social worker and marriage and family therapist for Lutheran Social Service of Minnesota. After 11 years at LSS, Carolyn was named Regional Vice President, overseeing all LSS programs in the northwestern quarter of the state.” It was Joanne who recognized Carolyn’s gifts and promoted her. Joanne was Vice President for Programs of LSS and, when there was a retirement in NW Minnesota, she chose Carolyn.

    That’s how we connected with Carolyn and her husband Jim, an ELCA pastor. Having survived two bouts of cancer she quickly succumbed to the third. Jim and Carolyn were scheduled to move in the OFH soon, with an apartment a few doors from mine.

     Carolyn, the youngest of eight children, was persistently and abundantly positive. She was a bright presence in the lives of all who knew her. Her death exacerbated ‘the presence of absence’ because I have to grieve Carolyn’s death without sharing with Joanne who’d be heart broken.

   Rest in peace, good and faithful servant, Carolyn Tonneson/

Takk for alt,

Al

PS Kaia and I returned to St. Paul today, in time for me to attend Carolyn's funeral.

Improved!

    Well, that’s a bit better. Today’s walk took us to another small cattail slough. There we saw 5 hens, and 2 roosters. Spotty gatherings of pheasants would be consistent with Avian Flu. The Flu might effect one area and not another. No, the roosters did not come home with me. It was a good walk for both of us.

Takk for alt,

Al

                             A previous hunt with the late Trygve.

Insane?

    Insanity has been described as “doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result.” By that definition I may be insane, though my expectations are lowered. Today Kaia and I walked a modest size cattail slough looking for pheasants. It was the same result as yesterday, nary a bird. Because we both need the exercise it was worth while endeavor.

    Nothing I’ve seen in print suggests that Avian Flu has decimated the upland bird population. South Dakota’s Governor made a very unwise decision when she took office a couple of years ago. For many decades the South Dakota Game Fish and Parks had conducted annual brood counts to determine pheasant populations. The same routes, at the same times, on the same days, would be driven, each year in the early morning, to count pheasant broods. The count then was compared with previous years and percentage increases or decreases would be publicized. It would be helpful data this year to compare with my ‘in the field experience.’

    The Governor’s reason was that if brood counts were down out of state hunters wouldn’t come and the state would lose money. Well, duh, what if out of state hunters come and have a bad experience because brood counts are down and no one told them? It seemed everyone involved tried to dissuade her to no avail. Stupidity can be very frustrating but par for the course.

Takk for alt,

Al

                               Oceans of grass but no pheasants.

Nada, zip, void, empty, nothing.......

    With the deer season over yesterday, today Kaia and I walked ideal pheasant habitat that we had avoided to allow deer a refuge. It’s bordered on the north by multiple rows of trees with none tall enough to hold hawks looking for prey. There’s sixty acres of tall grass. At the end of the shelter belt is a food plot of 4 acres of mature corn. What did we see? Nothing but vegetation, no birds, no deer no fauna of any stripe.

   There was a significant clue in the food plot. An ear of corn lay on the ground without husk. Were there any pheasants around they would have eaten the kernels leaving a bare cob. Deer will eat corn on the stalk reaching inside of the husks leaving only a few rows of kernels by the stem. That ear of corn on the ground spoke saying “no pheasants have been here.”

    With no pheasants around it was time to do the next best thing. There’s always a lopper in the back of the truck. Birds sit on fences and defecate cedar seeds after eating the berries. Consequently, cedar trees sprout below pasture fences creating problems with the fence. With lopper in hand it was a good time to cut cedar seedlings, and a few larger one’s, out from under the fence.

    That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.

Takk for alt,

Al

                        Met doing the laundry.

Special

     ‘Long time friends’ seems more helpful nomenclature than ‘old friends’ for obvious reasons. Classmates for four years of high school and two of college and in Sunday School before high school. Memories before high school are vague. Though I do remember when her father died, it was in 1948.

    Today we shared brunch and memories. Death takes away those with whom we share memories which is a large part of the pain of grief. The high school was tiny, usually around 30 students in four grades. Ours was the largest class in school with eight. Of the eight only three survive and so two thirds of the survivors shared brunch and memories.

    There is something choice about time with long time friends. Significant is the realization that such relationships are time limited and the time left is greatly decreased. It is another gift for which I am grateful.

Takk for alt,

Al

I miss teaching in the Hmong charter school, Noble Academy.

Give Kaia a thought!

      Over the years I’ve worked to maximize cattail growth on the land. Why? You might ask. Cattails are excellent winter cover for wildlife, including the pheasants. When the prairie winds howl in the winter pheasants can hunker down in them and be totally out of that wind. Cattails are also protection from predators. It’s very difficult for fox, coyotes, coon or other critters to sneak up on pheasants in heavy cattail cover. 

      Consequently, much fall and winter pheasant hunting is in an around cattails. There have been times when I’ve been deep in such vegetation wondering if I will ever emerge. Now I’m most likely to walk on the outside edge of cattails. This does not apply to Kaia whose progress through them is marked by the sounds of crashing and an occasional leap in the air for a look. 

        This means that she is using her nose like a wedge to forge her way through. I think walking in cattails is very difficult but at least I don’t have to bust through them with my face. She doesn’t seem to mind, enthusiastically entering them at any opportunity. She resists the eye drops offered back at the house. Yes, I’m glad that I’m neither a pheasant nor a dog.

 Takk for alt, 

 Al

                                     Kaia, the wonder dog.

Author

"Today is the birthday of American novelist and essayist Ann Patchett (1963), best known for her novel Bel Canto (2002), which begins with 57 men, 18 terrorists, and an opera singer holed up in a Peruvian mansion. It was inspired by the four-month-long, 1996 Peruvian hostage crisis. About the novel’s grand scope, Patchett says, “I’d always heard that melodrama is a bad thing in a novel, so I thought, what if I go all in?” Patchett was born in Los Angeles, California. Her father was a respected member of the Los Angeles Police Department who was instrumental in catching Sirhan Sirhan and Charles Manson. Her parents divorced and Patchett’s mother remarried, moving Patchett to Nashville at the age of six. She always wanted to be a writer and says, “A deep, early love of poetry should be mandatory for all writers.” She married at 24 and was divorced by 25, an experience she writes about in her essay collection, The Story of a Happy Marriage (2013). Growing up, Patchett and her sister fancied visiting a small bookstore in Nashville called Mills. Patchett says, “The people there remembered who you were and what you read, even if you were 10.” She never forgot about Mills, especially when, on whim, she decided to open her own independent bookstore in Nashville after two large chain stores closed. She and her business partner opened the store in a former tanning salon and called it Parnassus, after Mount Parnassus, which in Greek mythology is the home of literature, learning, and music. Her first novel, The Patron Saint of Liars (1992), about a home for unwed mothers, was originally written as her graduate thesis for the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She’s since written several other novels, including The Magician’s Assistant (1997), Run (2007), State of Wonder (2011), and her latest book, Commonwealth (2016), which she based on her life growing up with four step-siblings. She dedicated Commonwealth to her stepfather, who always told her, “Someday I’m going to open up one of your books and the dedication is going to say, ‘To Mike Glasscock."" Writer's Almanac 12/2/22 I've been trying to read all of Patchett. This post from Writer's Almanc must be a repost without careful editing. Pachett's last book is Dutch House. Bel Canto is not my favorite. Takk for alt, Al

Various

     The wind is indecisive. Yesterday it blew 20mph from the northwest and today it was 20mph from the south. It can quit anytime! There are limited places to take Kaia hunting out of the wind. She needs the exercise...and so do I.

     This week, next door neighbor Josh, has sent over smoked ribs, a large container of beef chili and smoked turkey. He recently bought a smoker and I’m the beneficiary. The poet said “good fences make good neighbors.” I say “good food shared makes a good neighbor.”

    “Joyous fun” the New York Times Book Review called Richard Osman’s, The Man Who Died TWICE. Perhaps that’s a bit hyperbolic but it was a fun read. The four friends living in an English OFH tackle the solution to murders that the police have not solved. The previous volume was The Thursday Murder Club and the next one is The Bullet That Missed. They are fun “who dun it’s.” Should I read it next, or?

Takk for alt,

Al

                           Patagonia, Argentina