Sixth-Grade Cookie Competitors
By Steve Trimble ● 2011
David Haynes, an African American author and St. Louis native, lived in Saint Paul for many years and taught fifth and sixth grade at a downtown public school. He has written several adult novels, and decided to write for younger readers because he found a dearth of works for that age group that were set in this city. "Business As Usual" tells the story of a cookie-selling enterprise among two rival groups of sixth graders, with a few life lessons about people and economics woven in along the way.
Winter Wonderland and the Hunt for Treasure
By Brie Goellner ● 2011
The scramble begins. The quickest gets the matching gloves. Snowsuit on . . . wool socks on . . . boots on . . . I just need a hat and gloves. A lone glove lies on the wood floor in the entryway. Where’s its mate? Hats, scarves, and mismatched gloves fly out of the wicker basket. “Ah ha!” It sits at the bottom calling to its twin. I’m ready, we’re set, let’s go! We pile into the minivan, shovels in the back. The best part about searching for the Winter Carnival medallion isn’t the digging. No, at age eight I prefer to lie in the snow or sit and watch the people shoveling around us.
Still Life, St. Paul
By Carolyn Williams-Noren ● 2011
On the coldest day of the year, a man stepped onto the 21 bus carrying a vase of lilies, shell pink, tall as a child in his arms. He sat behind the driver with the flowers in his lap.
New Year
By Donna Isaac ● 2011
On the south shoreline of the Mississippi in Saint Paul one black eagle breaks the tree line...
Revolt at the Midway Discount Shopping Mall
By Richard Broderick ● 2010
The department’s floor personnel—Bobbi, Tess, Shaun, Alice, and the stock boy, Luis—received word in that week’s pay envelope, but rumors had been circulating for some time that the store was closing. It was, after all, impossible to ignore how the shelves were not being restocked. “No mas,” Luis would shrug, his palms turned upward, when one of the sales associates asked why a particular item—like those fleece-lined shoe inserts the old ladies liked so much—hadn’t been replenished. “A little shipping problem,” Mr. Beechner, the head buyer, had assured Alice, the oldest among them, when she’d worked up the nerve to ask. “Central’s working on it,” he said, then marched off in a rush. He was always in a rush.
November
By Diane Wilson ● 2010
I raise my baton, a rake, a half-chewed stick: dry leaves crackle, snap tympani for the horn toot of geese flying south.
Big Hair
By Margaret Hasse ● 2010
This fall, our son’s chosen to grow his hair out long. He keeps his tresses clean, Otherwise lets the fields lie fallow, Doesn’t cultivate with comb and brush. One woman on Grand stares so long at his hair, she trips over the curb...
Art by Kirk Anderson
Can’t Nobody Make a Sweet Potato Pie Like My Mama
By Rose McGee ● 2010
Every holiday, every barbecue, every church social, and Lord knows for every somebody or another’s funeral, the unspoken expectation has always been that my mama makes the sweet potato pies. Calling her pies delicious is an understatement—they are heavenly.
A Pint-Sized Child
By Mike Hazard ● 2009
A pint of raspberries rests in the lap of a pint-sized child. Lolling in her stroller, she’s living in the lap of luxury...
Saint Paul Saints—Change-ups, Curves & Ponytails—1998
By Donal Heffernan ● 2009
As our Saint Paul Saints begin another season this year, here are a couple of stars from a bit ago. Ila Border, the first woman to play in organized baseball, and Darryl Strawberry, down on his luck from stardom from the Yankees. Both players earned the applause and joy of Saints fans in 1998.
Art by Andy Singer
The Last Child to Sleep in Saint Paul
By Sasha Aslanian ● 2009
It's 8 p.m. at City Hall and the lights in the mayor's office are still on. He sets down the stack of reports he's been reading, glances at the clock in his office, and reaches for his briefcase and keys. It's time to make the rounds. He flips off the lights and walks down the echoing corridors of City Hall to the door. Everyone is long gone.
Capitol Winchester
By Sasha Aslanian ● 2009
My furnace was a young pup in 1936 when Saint Paul hit its all-time low temperature of -34° F. Capitol Winchester sits like Santa Claus in my basement. He's entering his eightieth winter.