Join me for a little lunch. Or something. Sometimes.
To know us is to love us.
May we cherish those we love, and remember those with whom we’ve shared happy winter times.
When you have many children, it’s easy to forget one at Christmas. It hurts if you’re the forgotten one.
No one ever fought over the ribbon candy. But when I crumbled its sugary bones between my tongue and the roof of my mouth, I found it good.
All I can say is that times have changed in Minnesota.
It’s almost Halloween. Almost All Soul’s Day. Time for a ghost story. A true story.
You’d be crazy to cross Mr Smith’s garden. But one night I had to.
May 27 is a good day to spend at cemeteries, tidying the graves of veterans and other loved ones, and sharing family stories.
There were no bad bunnies in Stearns County.
It’s not easy to find a fairy cross rock.
We listened to the rustle of grasses, the leaves in the trees, the distant traffic. But after a few days I realised there was no birdsong.
Lena and Mina were my grandmothers – Stearns County, Minnesota women who grew up and raised families in small towns around the Lake Wobegon Trail. Born in the USA, they spoke German and had German accents. As did my parents, who spoke only German until they went to school. As do some of my cousins, who have never lived anywhere but Stearns County. We’re quirky folks, like those in Garrison Keillor’s fictional Stearns town of Lake Wobegon. I’m Laurie Hilsgen, and if you’re reading this, you might be Wobegonian, too. Let’s celebrate our loony ways. Oh ja!
