I loved living in Brooklyn, but when Augie was born, Emily kept going on about Minnesota.

She's from there originally, and wanted Augie to have family around, a backyard, a sandbox uninhabited by rats.

That summer during a visit back home, Emily showed me all that Minnesota had to offer by taking

me to the State Fair.

At one point, Emily pointed out a large wobbly Hasidic man who appeared to be wearing a tractor

tire threaded through his belt loops.

You see? She said sweetly,

there are Jews in Minnesota.

The Minnesota offensive continued along.

Emily looked at photos of houses online with hedges to trim and fences to mend.

Having never owned a house, none of it made sense.

In Brooklyn we lived across the street from a Chinese takeout. A man named Albert

brought our garbage to the curb and once a month vacuumed the building hallway.

What could be better than that?

But then Emily fell in love with a house in Minnesota, a small enough place painted green.

In the photo I could see a garden hose out front.

I am not going to water the lawn I said I hate those guys guys guys who water their lawns she

asked you know what I mean I said wearing shorts waiving to passers-by like they're in a David Lynch film.

And then we put in an offer.

It was like a bad dream.

Surely I couldn't be leaving New York. Surely something would happen.

Something would keep us from going through with it.

...