Hendrum

I grew up in a small town that has no interstate exit, so it’s a rare day I meet someone who knows where it is. In college, I began to tell newly made friends “It’s like a chicken with a percussion instrument,” because apparently “Hendrum” was hard to wrap their heads around.

Today, there are 309 people, according to the sign, though when I lived there we sat at around 365. Both my parents were born in this town. My paternal grandmother, too (I think). My mother’s parents moved to Hendrum around 1940, where he was the only Swede for miles around. He sometimes read out loud to himself from his Swedish Bible just to hear his native language.

It was, by and large, a good place to grow up, and I’m still stunned that V’s elementary school has more students than my entire home town has people.

Hendrum is a big part of who I am, who I was, and who I will be. And that’s all I have to say about that.

Advertisements

About Jennifer

Writer teacher mama sister friend sewist poet trying to stay warm in Minnesota's northwest.
This entry was posted in Hendrum. Bookmark the permalink.

Your thoughts?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s