Kevin Kling's Holiday Inn (21 page)

“All right, Grandma.” But Grandma was so too late on this one.

Another of Grandma’s rules was “No dogs in the house.”

“It can’t live outside, Grandma. It’s a wiener dog. It will die.”

She allowed this one exception. But one accident, and that was it. Outside.

It would have been, too. You didn’t mess with Grandma.

We all knew how Grandma felt about the dog. Yet all day that dog stuck by Grandma. Everywhere. I thought it was like the fish on
Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom,
the ones that live near the sharks as a means of survival. Then one day I was walking by the kitchen and I saw Grandma slipping the dog a piece of turkey. Very secretly. I thought I’d imagined it, so I told my brother, and he’d seen her slip something to the dog at dinner. Over the years the stories came out. Everyone in my family had witnessed Grandma secretly treating the dog.

Grandma gave out her love like she gave out that turkey. You had to pay attention or you’d miss it. But it was always there, never flagging, never in doubt. I never felt so safe as in that house.

I know the farm wasn’t the life she’d wanted. She wanted to live in town. Sit in that stinky beauty shop or in the car all day on Main Street.

Every Christmas we gathered in the living room and Grandma sat down at the piano. With her high shaking voice, she sang old songs from the 1920s and 1930s. Even as the years progressed and her arthritis became unbearable, once a year she played through the pain, her piano sounding horribly out of tune until she burst into song and then it somehow all made sense.

To me, she truly was grace.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to editor Ann Regan; working with her has been like an orange slice at mile twenty-two. To Pam McClanahan, director at Borealis Books, advisor, and wonderful editor of my first book. Thank you to my love and trusted first reader, Mary Ludington. To my mom, Dora; sister, Laura; brother, Steven; and the rest of the Kling/Dysart tree. To manager and godsend Mary McGeheran. To the folks at National Public Radio, especially Bob Boilen. To Tony Bol and Minnesota Public Radio. I’m grateful to the Seattle Repertory Theatre, the Guthrie Theater, the National Storytelling Festival, and to those who run the festivals, theaters, and gymnasiums where these stories lived before the page. To Steven Dietz, Ken Washington, David Esbjornson, Michael Sommers, Braden Abraham, Amy Poisson, Layne Kennedy, the Greilings, Mick Stephens, Tom Herberg, Mike Ericson, Aimee Bissonette, Greg Britton, Loren Niemi, Erin Sanders, Rob Simonds, Simone Perrin, Greg and Steve Myhr. To my teachers at Osseo and Gustavus Adolphus College.

And, finally, to my life-long mentor, the late Bill Holm.

Kevin Kling’s Holiday Inn
was designed and set in type by Percolator Graphic Design, Minneapolis. The type is Adobe Chaparral, designed by Carol Twombly. Printed by Maple Press, York, Pennsylvania.