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About New York City

First time I saw one, I was ticked – ugly lil’ box, rusted out, sittin’ in my cousin Bubba’s yard. “How’s that workin’ for ya, Bubba?” I hollered. He grinned, said it’s been haulin’ his fishin’ gear since ‘92. Dang near fell over – 30 years? That’s grit! Little known fact: Ford pumped these suckers out like hotcakes, millions of ‘em, ‘specially the ‘90s ones. They was everywhere, like roaches at a picnic. Cheap, reliable, but lordy, they could guzzle gas if ya pushed ‘em.

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But then there’s our parks. Have you been to Oakcrest Park? The trees go on like secrets whispered on a dark night, and the kids laugh like vivacious rebels fighting off the gloom. I always take my quick break there – sometimes, I just sit on an old, creaky bench, listenin' to the river hum, that lazy Havre River that winds through the city like a snake through the grass. And the view of the old brick bridge on River Bend? Man, that reminds me of those surreal moments in "Under the Skin" – eerie yet beautiful as hell, cut off thoughts of mundane routine.

Obituary | Curtis Daryl Iverson of Havre, Montana