Member-only story
THIS HAPPENED TO ME
Brice Prairie, Home of the Buffalo
Where are you from?
I’m from bluffs and the river, where the buffalo roam, or stand in the road and make you late for school. From frog-jumping contests, cornfield hide-and-seek, and rope swings gone wrong. La Crosse County, a city named from American Indian sport, home of the world’s largest six-pack, and a shameful amount of young folk drownings. From “no, I don’t own a hat made of cheese,” “the Bears still suck,” and do you want a chaser with that?
I’m from a man, misunderstood, frequent, booming presence. His touch, his beard is coarse, his armor shadows his softness. From a farmer’s daughter, affectionate, making up for lost time, who regards everyone before herself, a family based on the Bible.
I’m from Mario Brothers and G.I. Joe, intermixed with Barbies. The baby, surrounded by brothers. From “you’re older, you should know better” and frequent spankings. From cousins, first friends, never missing the idea of “sister.” Dogs were my allies, along with guinea pigs, rabbits, salamanders, and hamsters.
I’m from indecisiveness and impulsiveness, habits learned. From “do what I say, not as I do” and “because I said so.” From piano, softball, basketball, and gymnastics — trying everything, yet perfecting nothing. From Harry Potter and a…
