Jack of Harts

My family came to the New World back in the 1800s. We settled in Northern Minnesota because it was close enough to the old country to feel like home. More lakes than you could shake a long boat at in the short green summers. And covered in ice and snow during the long cold winters. Other settlers thought it was too cold to live. My family thought it was just the right amount of comfort. We fell in love with the thick forests and postage stamp farms cleared out of the footprints of ancient giants like Paul Bunyan and his big blue ox. We stayed in those lands and made them our own. Our languages and voices filled the forests and ten thousand lakes, and our sounds became the life of a whole new world. We made Northern Minnesota our own.