One of the groovier day trips from our house is to Itasca State Park where the mighty Mississippi begins as a trickle. There you can stand in the dead center of the Mississippi while it is still clear and clean and cold. We took a spontaneous trip this weekend.
We packed a picnic of cheese and crackers and this caviar in a tube that my parents brought home from Sweden . . . but apparently had not tried themselves. I’m such a guinea pig, “Here Lisa. Eat this.”
You can walk across the Mississippi on a rock bridge. It’s always the one who doesn’t want to fall in who does.
I have a memory of my dad slipping with his camera held high above his head.
Only pride was hurt Saturday. Everything else was fine.
Can you see the wedding on the other side? They had bagpipes. Why not? Why not get married where the Mississippi starts. It’s a place for beginnings.