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Showing posts from September, 2019

My Life in Containers

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A large box was placed on the Baraga Avenue porch and became my special hiding and thinking spot. It had comfortable smooth brown sides and emitted a crispy-new wintery aroma.  Scooching deep into my box (any box) made me feel secure and peaceful. On this occasion, I was laying in it looking up into the blue sky when large, warm and smiley eyes peeked down at me. The amused and expressive eyes were attached to an elongated face which was connected to a very tall, slender, white-haired man sporting anchor tattoos on his forearms. My hidey home was discovered making it no longer a secret cubicle on a porch, but a place that captured the chuckling interest of my Norwegian grandfather, a sailor named Emil Berger Olsen.  I was eight years old and spending family time with my grandparents in Marquette.  A rare large purchase provided the discarded box.  The front porch paralleled the side of the house and had a right turn porch wing which was hidden from view of the fro