Author: LRR

In 1982, I stole some beautiful things in Paris. Looking back, I realized I learned how to maintain my composure after earlier failed attempts at thieving. In 1967, I was five when I was lined up with my five older siblings and accused of throwing a half-opened can of Spam behind a box of gift-wrapping paper in the basement

My introduction to Hibbing, Minnesota took place by a gate at the end of a pine needle-strewn forest road, where I met Steve, an elderly man whose clothing clung to his body like an afterthought, making a last-ditch effort to contain the ruddy skin and wispy white hair jostling for exposure at his every missed button, torn hole, and sandal gap