by Chairman Joe McDonnell My father had been an altar boy and he wanted me to follow in his footsteps. Whenever a new class would be forming, he'd strongly suggest that I sign up. But I would always forestall him by saying I had to study. By the time report cards came out and he had evidence I was not studying, it was too late to join the altar boy class. Then one year, the church near the cottage where I summered offered a class. "You're going," my father said. The church was not all that close. I had to ride my bike about twenty minutes and climb a steep hill to where the church sat. It was blessedly cool inside. There were ten of us future acolytes and Father Don would lead us in our lessons. This was back in the days of the Latin mass and having to memorize the many responses to the priest seemed daunting. I just now looked up the Latin mass online. The priest starts of by blessing himself, then says " Introibo ad altare Dei ." which means "I wil
A 'reduced dialect version' excerpt from The Raven: Northwest Minnesota’s Original Art, History & Humor Journal (1994-2018) “Sven & Ula Do Ireland: 2003.” “Have you heard the story of Castlefreke?” Joe Lyons asked, his whole face a smile as he walked with Ula across the road to a new gate and high-overwire fence liberally posted with ‘No Trespassing’ signs. https://www.castles.nl/castle-freke “Yah, ‘twas in the airplane magazine, “Carra,” I found the story of Castlefreke,” answered Ula. “Well, this is it…” Joe said, pointing through the thin stand of saplings between us and an immense castle ruin atop a hill about 600 yards away. Sven walked the fence-line to find a good location between the trees where he could get a good shot with his new digital camera. He turned his camera to the sky first, so that the pre-focus mechanism would be set on infinite, otherwise, the camera would focus on the trees and the castle would be just a blur. Things