A cousin of mine wrote beautiful poems. Many were lyrical legends of love, adventure, and a bit of history, all with the backdrop of our country’s woodlands and waterways. One in particular is a favorite of mine. You may have visited a lovely park in Minneapolis. On the banks of the Mississippi River, this park is named after a young Indian brave called Hiawatha. I have visited this park several times and have fallen in love with Minnehaha Falls, especially in springtime, when tributaries fill with the spring runoff, sending a cascade of white bubbling water over the falls. If you have been there, you no doubt know the story of the park and the waterfall’s namesake: Hiawatha and Minnehaha. If you haven’t had the pleasure of reading their story, please find it and relax beneath a big old shade tree and meet them. If you do visit this treasure, situated in the heart of our great land, be sure to walk along the path below the falls. There, standing among the trees, you will see Hiawatha, as he is about to carry his beloved across the stream.

About that cousin I spoke of? His name is Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of the most treasured poets in American literature. The name of his story is Song of Hiawatha.