The Ballad of Coach Tim Walz

I was walking through an icy Moscow park about a year after the dissolution of the Soviet Union with a guy who went to high school with Bob Dylan in Hibbing, Minnesota. Three Russian soldiers menacingly approached us. Scared and feeling like I’d stepped into a Martin Cruz Smith novel, I feared a painful interrogation.

“Hi, I’m from Minnesota!” my friend called out cheerfully, with flat vowels that instantly neutralized any distrust. The three soldiers all smiled and offered us cigarettes.