NOVEMBER 9, 2023
THE CLASSIFIEDS – ANOKA, MN – JULY 10, 1967
I remember three things about the Larkins: there were a lot of them; their old, cramped house on the corner of Benton and State was heated with a smoky, wood-burning stove (one of the Larkins was a school chum of mine, and on the way home, I’d often be invited in); and for many years, a Larkin was our paper boy.
The paper—The Minneapolis Star—was always delivered around 4:00 in the afternoon, and prior to that day in July of ’67, I don’t think Jenny was ever the one to retrieve it from the front steps. On that occasion, however, she had been seated there for quite a long time, patiently waiting for whichever one of the Larkins was then the paperboy. Finally he appeared on his old Schwinn with a dirty canvas bag filled with newspapers and draped over the handle bar. Jenny jumped up and intercepted him in the driveway. The Larkin kid pulled a newspaper from the canvas bag but hesitated in handing it to Jenny.
“You sure you’ll get this into your house?” the kid asked. “Your dad yelled at me once for not gettin’ the paper right up there on your front steps.”
“I’ll make sure he gets it,” Jenny said, “but I need to see it first.”
“Why?” asked the Larkin kid.
“’Cause I need to see the want ads.”
“The want ads?”
“To find a collie.”
“You mean a Lassie dog?” said the Larkin kid as he repositioned his bike to continue on to the Moores’ house.
“Yeah. All for myself. My daddy wasn’t going to let me but now he is.”
“Do my a favor,” said the Larkin kid, as he sat down on the bike and put one foot on the pedal.
“What?”
“Make sure the dog is chained up.”
* * *
Jenny laid the newspaper on the living room floor and looked for a moment at the front-page headline, “McNAMARA VISITS FRONT LINES/Marines battle near DMZ.” Quickly, she picked through the newspaper sections in search of the want ads. Finding them, she ran her finger down the columns, just as she had seen Mother do the previous evening. No collies for sale. Carefully, she folded up the Classifieds section and reassembled the rest of the paper. Walking back out to the front steps, she placed the paper where Dad would expect to find it.
* * *
THE CLASSIFIEDS – ANOKA, MN – JULY 12, 1967
Wednesday late afternoon found Jenny once again sitting on the front steps, waiting for the Larkin kid to show up with the newspaper. A little after 4:00 he did. He barely got his Schwinn past the driveway apron when Jenny ran down to greet him. From the canvas bag he pulled out a paper and handed it to her.
“No luck yet?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“How many days you been lookin’?”
“Three, I think.”
“Today’s gonna be your lucky day,” said the Larkin kid, as he repositioned his bike to continue on his route.
“How do ya know?”
“’Cause. My grandma says ‘three’s the charm.’”
“Three’s the charm? You mean magic?”
“Somethin’ like magic.” He mounted his Schwinn and rode away.
Jenny repeated her new routine, except this time she looked at the front page a bit longer, reading the headline, “SOVIET WARSHIPS ARRIVE AT SUEZ CANAL” and looking at the grainy photo of battleships.
A few minutes later, what sprang from the Classifieds was the ad she’d been searching for: “COLLIE – gentle loving 1-1/2 yr. old male needs good home $35 521-4145.” Jenny leaped to her feet. The paper crinkled as she stepped onto the middle of it—her first step on her way the race to tell Mother. Just as suddenly, she stopped, knelt down to close the paper and tidy it up. After putting it back on the front steps, she re-entered the house and at the top of her lungs, yelled the news to Mother, wherever she was.* * *
With Jenny standing beside her, Mother sat at the phone desk just outside the den, with the Classifieds open to the page with the collie ad lying on the desk. You could blame Mother for a lot of quirks, but inaction was never among them. Mother picked up the receiver, and after dialing the number, she pulled the receiver far enough from her ear to allow Jenny to hear the rapid click of the phone ringing on the other end.
“Hello? Berg residence,” Jenny heard a woman answer.
Mother pulled the receiver back, close to her ear. “Hello. This is Mrs. Nilsson. I’m calling about a collie that’s for sale.” Jenny’s cheek was nearly touching Mother’s. The receiver came back out an inch from Mother’s ear.
“Yes. It’s my son’s dog. Let me get him . . .” She said. “D-a-a-ve!” Mother and Jenny heard the woman call out with her phone away from her face. “Someone calling about the dog.”
. . . “Hello?” The young man’s voice came through loud and clear.
Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.
© 2023 by Eric Nilsson
