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News & Views of Phillips Since 1976
Tuesday July 16th 2024

Posts Tagged ‘Fiction’

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 [...]

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 [...]

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