The author, center, with brother and sister on the left, and cousins on the right, circa 1970, Headwaters of the Mississippi.
During summers at my grandparents’ resort in north-central Minnesota, one of my favorite things to do was visit Itasca, the Headwaters of the Mississippi, for the simple thrill of walking across the narrow stream, bare feet on slippery rocks, at the place where the river begins. I’m still amazed this is the same river as the one back home in St. Paul, flowing north from its source and meandering a bit, like a summer tourist in no particular hurry, gaining energy and strength for whatever lies ahead. Read More