Entertainment

[This week’s “This Happened Here” is courtesy of a Minneapolis writer, data analyst, and comedian who is also known as my brother Joe Hennen. Its “happening”: last Saturday June 14th. Its “here”: an extremely slow-moving bus making its way from Minneapolis to St. Paul, a line whose maiden voyage, I’d argue, had big Titanic vibes. I am glad Joe survived to write this column… and also that he told us all of this after he was safely home. Insofar as it’s possible, I hope you enjoy this tale of slowly-escalating danger and the beautiful stubbornness of the human spirit. –Jessie Hennen]

As I’m sure you know, nowadays -- if you start idly researching any potential purchase -- soon enough, every website will remind you of your whim.

[Note: I’m sounding like a broken record here, but the guest column I was excited to run now needs a little more time to make edits… so hello, it’s Jessie Hennen again, writing to you with a thing that happened in Marshall this week. Other voices are coming soon, I promise. Got an idea of your own? Send it to Jessie.rose.hennen (at) gmail.com!]

I’m standing in a Speedway in South St. Paul, recording my husband as he opens the smudged plastic door of a bakery case. “Should we get him a plain one with chocolate? Or… sprinkles?”

Last week in this space, I may have jumped the gun: the first guest columnist – my Creative Nonfiction Workshop student – has asked me to hold off on printing her piece until later in the month. Not to worry, though; coming up next week, a thrilling tale of living on a farm from the poet and performer Johanna Luetmer, who grew up in Morris and has stories to share.

Yesterday, I went out with the dog to supervise as he sniffed the world. Wildfire smoke hung thick in the air; I defied it by sitting outside for hours and am now coughing as I type this, paying the price.

Like many fathers (I presume), my dad has a fair share of stock phrases. The second you bring up going horseback riding, you’re greeted with “Horses are vicious beasts…”

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[Note: This week’s “here” is courtesy of frequent reader and now contributor Diane Ladner, a proud grandmother who passed me a sheaf of memories she’d set down for her children and grandchildren to enjoy. She gave it to me seeking feedback, and the only notes I had were that it was well-written… and now I’m stealing it for this column.]

Yesterday, I went out with the dog to supervise as he sniffed the world. Wildfire smoke hung thick in the air; I defied it by sitting outside for hours and am now coughing as I type this, paying the price.