Fiction from the Ragged Edge of Faith
The Strawberry Festival is over, but fortunately the Keweenaw is still producing the little red berries. It’s some solace in a summer that’s slow in coming. In Snow Country, Beth found hope in Pastor Chip’s words. “It’s going to take
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“Hyvää päivää.” “Where you live?” “Out Mohawk way.” “Yous get lots of snow dere, hey.” “Yeah, we woke to two feet today. I scooped myself out then drove Hough’on, but dey hardly got none.” I didn’t think I had an
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Many American Finns, descendants of 19th and early-20th century immigrants, retained several Finnish words in their family cultures. I remember my grandma calling me something like “bego boyga.” She would never translate for me, so I could only surmise it
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“Beth drove Grandma over the old, double-decker Lift Bridge as snowmobile traffic passed underneath on what was once a railroad track carrying ore off Copper Island.” ~ Snow Country The old Finns called it Kuparisaari, Copper Island. It was an
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