Chicken coop, Coupeville, Island County, WA. Photo by Anne E. Kidd. Library of Congress
Today I was reminded of a man I wrote about here some years back. He’s gone now, and one of his relatives came to the library today to donate several cartons of books from his personal collection.
I think it’s all right to give his full name now. It was Marvin Rodvik, and he lived in Franklin, Minnesota. I met him a couple times in my life. The last time he gave us another gift of books. He also told me a story, which I passed along in this blog. I’ll tell it again now, because it is, in my opinion, one of the best stories I ever heard for the Christmas season.
Marvin was a pastor’s kid. The story happened when he was a teenager, probably (by my calculations) around the time of World War II.
An entertainment event of some kind (he didn’t say what) was planned in their small town. Marvin announced at supper that he was going.
“You’re not going,” said his father. They belonged to a strict church, a congregation of the forerunner to my own church body.
“Yes I am,” said Marvin. “You can’t stop me.”
His father paused a moment. Then he said, “You’re right. I can’t stop you. But know this. If you go to that event, you’ll be locked out of this house when you come home tonight. You’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep.”
Continue reading “You’ll have to find somewhere else to sleep” →
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