Floyd Petersen, 2005
Though it happened in 1960, I remember it like it was yesterday. The late fall Sunday in rural Wisconsin was cold and blustery. The old farmer a mile down the road had died and today was the auction. As a kid, I loved to hear the auctioneer, so I walked down the road and listened to a lifetime collection of possessions being sold to the highest bidder. After an hour I tired of the sale and headed home. Standing at the end of the drive were two figures hunched in their overcoats and rubbing their ears to ward off the biting cold. They were handing out some papers and talking to anyone who would listen. I asked them who they were. Robert said one; Ted said the other. They were campaigning for their brother John, they said. He was running on the Democratic ticket for president, the paper they handed me, said.
My dad was Protestant and Republican. They were Democrat and Catholic, so I didn't shake their hand.
Though it happened in 1960, I remember it like it was yesterday. The late fall Sunday in rural Wisconsin was cold and blustery. The old farmer a mile down the road had died and today was the auction. As a kid, I loved to hear the auctioneer, so I walked down the road and listened to a lifetime collection of possessions being sold to the highest bidder. After an hour I tired of the sale and headed home. Standing at the end of the drive were two figures hunched in their overcoats and rubbing their ears to ward off the biting cold. They were handing out some papers and talking to anyone who would listen. I asked them who they were. Robert said one; Ted said the other. They were campaigning for their brother John, they said. He was running on the Democratic ticket for president, the paper they handed me, said.
My dad was Protestant and Republican. They were Democrat and Catholic, so I didn't shake their hand.
Floyd Petersen. 2005
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