Oh, man. Dave took me to Beyoncé’s show at Citi Field last week and it was epic, as expected. A few adjectives: fierce, beautiful, crazy, sad, angry, and just so damn flawless.
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Pie shakes and birthday cake, for no reason.
From a few days in North Dakota, and a quick camp in the Badlands — a tent along the river under the big sky, stars, buffalo, smores, snakes — and snaking through Theodore Roosevelt National Park, taking a few deep breaths through a car window thoroughly rolled down, climbing and descending, sitting and thinking, some sleep, some drinks, some mud, many wholly good moments in my heart.
Thanks to David for taking this incredibly ladylike picture of me in Montreal. Can’t remember the last time I looked a little comfortable in a photo.
My then 26-year-old great-grandfather, Wallace Christen’s WWI draft registration card, dated June 5, 1917. At the time he was a farm laborer in Plaza, Mountrail County, North Dakota. I do not know much about Wallace — he passed away suddenly in his early 30s in a work accident. Remembering today.
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