I met Orval and his wife Evelyn in the parking lot of St. Paul's Lutheran church sometime in 1965 or 1966. They were parishioners who stood off to the side after church while everyone was milling around paying social respects to each other. Orval was a short, stocky man who was really quiet. Evelyn, even quieter. They came in their station wagon with squeaky springs loaded with who knows what. I was curious about these people. I was 25 or so and had...
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Poetry