This series is a little bit biographical and a little
bit imaginary about my dad and a road trip he took in the summer of 1946, when
he turned fifteen. He and a friend hitchhiked from Loring Park to Duluth, into
Canada and back again. He was gone from home for a month. I was astonished and
fascinated by the tale. So, I added some speculation about things I've always
wondered about and this series is the result. To read earlier SHORT LONG
JOURNEY NORTH clips, click on the label to the right, scroll down to and click
OLDER ENTRIES seven or eight times. The FIRST entry is on the bottom of the
last page.
Tommy Hastings jerked his
chin uphill toward the creamery and said, “Let’s go before they catch up to
us.” Freddie Merrill and Tommy started up the hill just as a truck came roaring
down the street. It was dark. The city was near silent except from a banging
shriek of metal on metal drifting up from dumping and resetting from the ore
docks on the Lake. The boys scrambled into the shadows and knelt down on the
concrete sideway in the dark.
The truck slowed down…
Tommy breathed, “Don’t
breathe.”
Freddie leaned close as they
watched the angry Finns pause under a harshly burning street lamp. There were
muttered words, a few of them pointed uphill and they got into a brief
argument. There was shoving and after most of the men sided against two, they
pounded on the roof. The truck roared away, continuing on into town. “Is that
it?” Freddie whispered, blowing in Tommy’s ear.
Tommy fell forward,
exclaiming, “What are doing! That tickles like crazy!”
Freddie straightened up, spun
around, and started walking uphill. “Let’s go before they come back.”
Tommy chased after him, “What’s
wrong, Fred.
“Nothin’. Let’s get up there
before they come back.”
“I didn’t mean anything by
that!”
“Shut up.”
They climbed in silence the
rest of the way up the hill turning into a wide gravel lot. Two huge metal
towers with the words LAND-O-LAKES stood to one side. The lot was abandoned.
Freddie walked away from Tommy and sat down on the block of concrete holding up
the tower, his back turned. Tommy stopped, staring at the other boy’s back. A
cold wind blew across the lake, freezing cold even in the middle of summer. He
walked over and sat down at the opposite corner. Sandburs had grown between the
concrete and the parking lot, poking him in the ankle. But he didn’t want to
move; he didn’t dare move. They sat together, looking down on the few lights in
the city. The wind blew. From behind them, something flapped against a wall or
roof.
Finally Freddie said, “You
didn’t want me here all along.”Tommy wanted to punch his best friend. Instead he said, “You’re my best friend. Why wouldn’t I…”
“It’s always been about your
mom.”
Tommy thought about it, then
said, “I guess. I seen the picture my whole life. Ma never talked about it and
Dad just got mad if I asked. Dad said it was from Duluth. I took it out of the
frame one time while they were gone. It had some writing on the back, but I
couldn’t tell anything that it said except ‘Duluth’.”
“I get it. You never wanted
me to come with.”
“I couldn’t have done it alone,
though.”
“Right.”
He slid across the concrete,
finally pulling the burr from his ankle. “I could’a gone without you.”
There was a long silence
until Freddie said, “You’d be dead by now, that’s for sure.”
Tommy moved slower. They sat
not-quite-touching until Tommy said, “Don’t ever breathe on my neck like that
again.”
“I was scared. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
They heard a grinding gear,
but before they could run, a truck pulled into the parking lot, flooding them
with its headlights.
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