If you haven’t read this masterpiece, please do yourself a favor and Amazon Prime that sucker in time for some weekend reading.
Category Archives: Iowa
We tell the stories as we want to know them, withholding the details that would round them into truth.
Each title is an era trapped in amber, a fossil record of a former self.
On this aðfangadagskvöld, it’s my duty to tell you specifically about the final Yule Lad, who arrives tonight. His name is Kertasníkir, and if you know Icelandic, you’re clutching your candles.
And then—after all that hectic activity—all I had to do was drive. For five hours. On the same road. Beside a repeating pattern of corn and soybeans.
It’s really a reflection on what it means to be part of anything, both by birth and by choice, something universal, but told with a strong Dutch-American “accent.”
If you are reading this, congratulations. You received this from the past. You have the benefit of hindsight, recaps, twenty-four-hour news cycles.
I was a freshman in high school when my mom lost her mind. By that time, my mom and dad no longer called each other “honey.” Due to a shortage of money, we’d downsized to an apartment, meaning my dad no longer smelled of lawn mowing.