Elk Horn – Danmark På Prærien

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Velkommen to
flaeskesteg
rullepolse
skinke,
to a prairie’s past
pickled in a waft
of windmill sails, to
kringle and
dansk lagkage,
to Grandparents’ home
still on 173, to
Lutherans and
licorice, to
VikingHjem and
Andersen’s tales,
to cherry bombs
and blasted chicken heads,
to
prairie
grass
waves,
to
-sen
after
-sen
after
-sen
to Carlson, my mother
Aasta May, to
smørrebrød
aeblskiver
medisterpolse,
to Exodus and
Grandpa’s Elim
Children’s Home, to
flora Danica and
blue fluted,
to my one-time højskole,
to rock fights and
burning a farm down –
nearly – to
Grandma’s kyllingesteg,
to
Alma
Emery and
Glenn, to
Aasta Schack and Axel
and all of us,
to 98.7% English only [and
Danish declining],
to 76.7% who drove alone, to
Grandpa’s slow smooth safe drive
into town, to a
Blended Service of the Eucharist
and easy-to-follow
old-songs-sung-in-an-upbeat style,
to Snagajob at
Walnut
Atlantic
Kirkman
Avoca
Exira
Harlan
Shelby
all only
10-15 miles from Elk Horn
where there are no offers, to
empty bourbon bottles
in the barn, to
no school on Friday so
Spartan fans can cheer
girls’ basketball, to
Danes and
Lady Danes who
still drift across the years
in EHS
and lessons learned
in the colours
of change, to pickled
Red Cabbage and
Red Beets in jars,
to remembering
and now.

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