NEWS & VIEWS OF PHILLIPS SINCE 1976
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RETURNING CHAPTER 20

RETURNING CHAPTER 20

by Patrick Cabello Hansel Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy,your old shall dream dreams,and your young shall see visions. Joel 2:28 Yes, there is a difference between dreams and visions, but the miracles and the catastrophes they portend can be hard to distinguish. Angel and Luz had a vision of creating a new family, one not chained to the trauma of their past, one based in the twin angels of love and justice. They still occasionally had dreams of the terror they had faced, but with the support of spiritual guides and each other, they were seeking to learn from their fears instead of being swallowed by them. Brian Fleming had stopped listening to his dreams a long time ago, and thus his vision had become warped by the three angels of greed, violence and humiliation. All he could see and all he could want was power. Not power to create, but power to control, to coerce, to dominate. He wanted Luz to submit to him, as he had forced her to do when she was a young teenager. But Luz had discovered a strength beyond fear: the love she had for Angel, Angelito and Lupita. The two men on horses were not a dream, as little Angel had wondered. They weren’t exactly a vision either, but an invitation to see into the past. What you saw depended on what you longed for. They were twins, and if you knew the legend of Mateo and Marcos Kelly Hidalgo, you would know that both Luz and Angel were descendants from their line. You would know that they were born in the swale two years after the Civil War. And you would know that many believed Mateo’s ghost still haunted the land our four time travelers stood on. What you see is often what you get. What you see beyond the eyes of seeing depends on what you are searching for. Luz and Angel saw their ancestors, and the tangled webs of their families’ histories. They instinctively moved towards the two riders. Brian Fleming saw his ancestry as well, but not the blood he shared with those who came before, but [...]

CHAPTER 19: LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL?

CHAPTER 19: LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL?

RETURNING by PATRICK CABELLO HANSEL Imagine finding yourself in the same place you just left, but in a different time: 140 years before the time you left, to be exact. You wouldn’t just be in a different time though; you’d be in a whole different world. For our four travelers -- Luz, Angel, little Angel and their captor, Brian Fleming -- well, to say it was a shock would be an understatement. Fortunately for them, it was a moonless night, with fog all around. The reality that they were “some-when” else didn’t strike them at first. Brian Fleming thought that the tunnel he had discovered when remaking the garage into his enterprise was just an escape route in case of a police raid or some other calamity. He and his “associates” had excavated the tunnel until it reached the cemetery a little over a block away. They had not reached the end of the old tunnel; there were large boulders, railroad ties and debris that blocked it. With their flashlights, they had seen that it went on for aways. But it was clear walking into the cemetery a good 40 yards, which for their purposes was enough. They dug an entrance that led behind a large pine, and practiced running through it at night, with only the flashlights from their phones. What they didn’t know was that someone else had been working on the tunnel for a long time. Actually many people had been working on it for a long time from a long time ago. People who hid out from wars old and new, people escaping slavery, people escaping the law. When war was threatened, people took shelter there. When liquor was illegal, people hid it -- and even made it -- there. Some of the tunnel users were innocent people looking to survive; some were people making a buck by hook or crook. It took all kinds, and all kinds of people had left their mark on that sacred space. As the four of them got accustomed to the fog and the darkness, it began to dawn on each of them that they were not in any place they [...]

RETURNING CHAPTER 18: TESSERACT

RETURNING CHAPTER 18: TESSERACT

By PATRICK CABELLO HANSEL Your author has asked you to suspend disbelief on more than one occasion. That a multi-million dollar criminal enterprise disguised as a non-profit can be hidden in plain site in the part of East Phillips once known as “the swale.” That a 4-year-old could expertly call 911 and communicate exact details. That tunnels and passageways can appear out of nowhere. But feature this: we are asked to suspend disbelief all the time. Or maybe it’s suspend belief (which it our crazy world, can amount to the same thing). We are asked to believe that there is liberty and justice for all, that anyone can become President, that if you just work hard enough, you can do anything, that it’s just a few “bad apples” that spoil (take your pick: the police, the NFL, the entertainment industry), that the Vikings will win the Super Bowl if they just get the right: coach, GM, quarterback, kicker. So why should it surprise you that our blessed little family, under the threat of an evil man’s gun travelled not only through space but through time, ending up in the swale, the same place in space, but a different place in time: the 1870s, when the mystery surrounding Mateo Kelly Hidalgo began. * The beginning of Mateo Kelly Hidalgo was certain: son of Guadalupe Hidalgo and Matthew Kelly, born ten minutes after his brother Marcos in 1868. His father was an Irish patriot who fled the Potato Famine in the 1840s and fought in the U.S. Army in the Mexican War. Until he saw the cruelty and imperialism of his adopted country, when he switched sides and joined the San Patricios, Irishmen who fought for Mexico. His mother, Guadalupe, could trace her lineage back to the Golden Age of Andalucía, before the Reconquista under Ferdinand and Isabella/ Luz and Angel were both descended from Guadalupe’s sons, but whether it was Marcos or Mateo, no one knew. The end of Mateo Kelly Hidalgo remains clouded in mystery. Some say that he was kidnapped by [...]

CHAPTER 17: BY SURE FORCE

CHAPTER 17: BY SURE FORCE

by Patrick Cabello Hansel Either by sure force of luck or Divine Providence, little Angel’s phone call to 911 coincided with a massive blackout for the entire neighborhood of Phillips. The hospitals and fire station automatically switched to backup, but houses, stores and the garage numbered 2647 were plunged into instant darkness. The garage, where Brian Fleming was holding our little family hostage, was plunged into total chaos. The lights in the basement went out immediately, emergency lights and piercing alarms came on. Upstairs, they could hear people cursing and moving around, bumping into furniture. Only the space behind the steel door that Brian was leading Luz through was illuminated: the central nervous system of the whole operation, where money and lives were manipulated through the dark web. Brian had installed huge, sophisticated batteries in a sub basement dug deep into the ground. They would keep the servers and computers running for a long time. He didn’t care about the sex workers on the second floor of the huge garage; he only cared about the students learning on the first floor if they helped him get more funding. But he cared about his money. He cared about the golden machine of greed and fear he had built. Then, either by sure force of luck or Divine Providence (or most likely by the effect of basic run-of-the-mill stupidity), a group of boys on the block decided that a blackout would be a great time to shoot off fireworks they had leftover. Big ones. Faulty ones. One landed near the back of the garage and started a fire. A neighbor called 911—the second call in less than 5 minutes—and soon multiple sirens came calling. Brian and his crew were distracted enough that they didn’t notice 4-year-old Angelito talking on the phone. Who could a four-year-old be talking with, anyway? But the boy, incredibly calm in the midst of pandemonium, kept telling the 911 operator: “they’ve taken my sister…we’re in a big garage at [...]

Returning Chapter 16: Split Screen

Returning Chapter 16: Split Screen

by Patrick Cabello Hansel Picture this if you will: in one frame, Brian Fleming lording it over our poor family; drawing out the encounter in the basement in search of his own twisted pleasure. Luz has faced his evil before, as a young girl, an encounter that scarred her, but one which she has overcome through tears and sheer force of will. Angel, her husband, knows but a little of this part of his wife’s story. He is trying to keep his anger in check so as to not antagonize this man, who holds — somewhere, God knows where — his beloved daughter Lupita as ransom. Ransom for what, Angel can only guess. In another frame,  little Lupita is sitting on a rug with a race track pattern. The asphalt lanes abut images of the pit stop, grandstand and concession areas. She was playing with a Match Box Car, racing it around the track, but now she is playing with an old stuffed rabbit, who looks as if he has been in too many scrapes with angry gardeners. One of the rabbit’s ears has been stitched back onto his head, and the fur on his belly worn down. But Lupita doesn’t care. She has stopped — for a moment — calling for her mama and papa. She has stopped crying. If you just saw her in the frame, you would think she is like a typical two year old. But as the frame widens, you will see an elderly woman, sitting in a chair, holding knitting needles. If you look close at her hands, you can see them shaking. Look back now at the first frame. Brian Fleming is leading Luz — and only Luz — through a steel door at the back of the basement room. You can see Angel’s fear, his powerlessness, his shame. On Luz’ face, there is a look of determination. And on Brian’s face? Brian Fleming is the kind of man that never shows his real face to anyone. There is a condescending smile he puts on, an impatient sneer at employees, and only when absolutely necessary, the rage that strikes fear. Back to the second frame: as you look closer, you can see the [...]

RETURNING CHAPTER 15: WHAT IS IN THIS PLACE?

By PATRICK CABELLO HANSEL Our beloved family did not know the history of the garage they were cornered in. It was built as a barn by Sigurd Amundson in the summer of 1900, to store his cart and horse. Sigurd had begun building the house on Ascension Day in 1899 and moved into it on Candlemas Day, 1900 with his wife Evangeline (nee Magnuson) and their infant son, Ronald. Sigurd had immigrated to Minnesota from a small town near Lund, Sweden when he was eight years old. His parents, William and Jeanette (nee Olson) were charter members of St. Paul’s Evangelical Lutheran Church. (The one on 15th Avenue, built by Swedes, not the one eight blocks away, built by Norwegians.) They were buried in Soldiers and Pioneers Cemetery two blocks away, along with three of Sigurd’s siblings, who died at ages 2, 7 and 11 of dysentery, cholera and a work accident, respectively. Sigurd first sold vegetables, used clothing, and pots and pans from his cart. As the automobile became more prevalent in the city’s poorer wards, he learned how to fix them, and started one of the first garages on the south side. Legend had it that his horse, known to all the children of the area as “Buddy” had run away on a cold Santa Lucia Eve in 1914. Some believed Buddy’s ghost still haunted the swale. After Sigurd and Evangeline sold the house in 1928, and moved with their four children near to Diamond Lake, the new owners converted the garage into a small woodworking shop. The childless couple made cabinets, end tables, chairs and knick-knack shelves. They sold the house and garage in 1963 to an Augsburg professor, who rented it out to students. By the late 60’s it became the place to buy pot, and was raided several times by the police. The incarnations that followed included: a halfway house for ex-cons run by an obscure Christian sect, transitional housing for Hmong refugee families, a feminist-lesbian organizing space, and a Pentecostal church. It was foreclosed more than [...]

Searching ”“ A Serial Novelle Chapter 33: In Their Unknowing Grew A Great Joy

The procession was led by a group of children, dressed in bright red vests and carrying the most beautiful stars on thin poles. Each star had a face, and each face had a story.  Ahead, the bright star on the church tower grew bigger and bigger.  A guitar and the words of a Christmas bolero floated from the tower. All around them, Angel and Luz could see the faces of people illuminated by their candles, and as they prepared to cross 28th Street, the police stopped the traffic and waved the freezing pilgrims through. All around the church steps, brown lunch bags with candles growing. The crowd passed underneath a large banner that said only “¡Bienvenidos!” and entered into the old church.  You could almost hear each body release the cold as they stepped into the warm. Luz and Angel intended to sit in the back.  Angel had been to church only once in the past few years, for the funeral of his friend Andres, who was shot down in plain daylight on Lake Street.  Luz had gone to Mass faithfully with her Tio, but always felt that the people were staring at her, staring into her wounded, broken soul.  She would pray to God, but more often than not, she felt that God”'s eyes were leading the crowd that glared.  But tonight was different. (more…)

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