https://memoirmag.com/nonfiction/ashes-of-american-flags-by-justin-florey/
Minneapolis
Treasures of the Mississippi
Wednesday morning I went fishing in the Mississippi River below the Ford dam. I parked my car at Wabun park and tromped in my waders along Minnehaha Creek to the familiar spot. Along the way I paused to drift my wooly bugger through some promising pools but came up empty. With it being late summer, … Continue reading Treasures of the Mississippi
The Bicycle Thief
Minneapolis, MN I’m delivering mail when a raven-haired woman on a bicycle emerges from behind an apartment building. She takes a quick glance behind, almost as if she is being pursued, and starts down the stairs. These are low, gradual stairs that I could go down easily with the wide tires of my mountain bike, … Continue reading The Bicycle Thief
Minneapolis Skyline
I was very happy when I first moved to Minneapolis seventeen years ago. I recall a sense of elation as I stared at the distant cluster of downtown skyscrapers while running around what was then called Lake Calhoun. I had discovered a place that felt like home, a new home without all the baggage from … Continue reading Minneapolis Skyline
Don’t Squeeze the Charmin
A squad car pulls up next to the apartment building I’m approaching. I nod to the two officers and they smile back. One of them seems familiar. It’s below zero out. “Well, I suppose you don’t mind letting us in.” It is the same cop. He’s a white guy with salt and pepper hair. There … Continue reading Don’t Squeeze the Charmin
The Man of the House
My youngest son and I have a joke we share. Before I leave for work, I tell him he is the man of the house while I am gone. This started last spring when his kindergarten class was quarantined and his older brother still got to go to school. Now I say he’s the man … Continue reading The Man of the House
Hoop Medicine
My youngest son splashes in the lake with his mother as I anxiously pan the beach for Miles. At last, I feel a momentary pang of love as I recognize him among the frolicking, half-clad children. He is bent over, digging a hole in the sand with a shovel. Wait. I take a step closer … Continue reading Hoop Medicine
Trash Fishing
We celebrated my 49th birthday by dining at Al’s Breakfast in the Dinkytown neighborhood of Minneapolis. My wife and kids feasted on pancakes while I enjoyed bacon and eggs with what might have been the most scrumptious wheat toast I’ve ever consumed. Amazingly, this hole-in-the-wall establishment has been in business since 1950. It has no … Continue reading Trash Fishing
Mercy
Like most people, I tend to be parsimonious with my mercy. Mostly because time is like blood to me. I only have so much. When you are a letter carrier, people try to befriend you. Often they have nowhere to go. They are prisoners of their maladies and handicaps. They pester you as if you … Continue reading Mercy
The Bridge, the Bird, the River—a Triangle of Perception
I paused on my bicycle ride across the Franklin Bridge because I spotted a small patch of white in the bare trees that I immediately recognized as a bald eagle. Far below in the Mississippi River, teams of scullers rowed downstream toward the Short Line Bridge and the Lake Street Bridge beyond that. The eagle, … Continue reading The Bridge, the Bird, the River—a Triangle of Perception
Crow City 