November. Dark month. Cold month. The month when Duluth pulls its coat tight and endures.
The Fitzgerald anniversary. November 10. Paul can't wear the tie. Paul can't speak the words. Paul can't read the book. But the day is observed. I played the Lightfoot song on the speaker. I read the last chapter aloud — the final transmission, the search, the discovery, the bell that rings twenty-nine times. Paul listened with his eyes closed. The ventilator hissed. The monitor beeped. The song played.
"We are holding our own."
The last transmission. The captain's words. The words that Paul has been teaching for thirty-three years. We are holding our own. On a ship in a storm. In a house in Duluth. In a wheelchair with a feeding tube and a ventilator. We are holding our own.
Paul typed after the reading: "29 MEN. REMEMBERED." I said, "Yes. Every year." He typed: "REMEMBER ME LIKE THAT." I said, "Like what?" He typed: "WITH THE BELL. WITH THE NAMES. WITH THE STORY." I said, "I will remember you with everything, Paul. With the bell and the names and the story and the meatballs and the bread and the lake and every ship you ever identified and every lesson you ever taught."
He typed a smiley face. Then: "AND THE SOUP."
And the soup. Yes. And the soup.
I'm planning a smaller Christmas this year. Much smaller. Paul's energy is declining. His breathing is harder. The ventilation runs almost twenty-four hours now. But we'll have Christmas. We'll have the julbord, or a version of it. We'll have meatballs and candles and the advent star and the rice pudding with the almond.
Paul typed on Thursday: "MAKE THE JULBORD. SMALLER. BUT MAKE IT." I said, "I will." He typed: "THE ALMOND. DON'T FORGET THE ALMOND." I said, "I never forget the almond." He typed: "GOOD LUCK FOR WHOEVER FINDS IT." I said, "Who do you want to find it?" He typed, slowly: "YOU."
Me. He wants me to find the almond. He wants me to have the good luck. Because he knows — he knows, the way he's always known things, historically, factually, with the scholar's acceptance of what the evidence shows — that the luck is running out for him. And the luck he has left, he's giving to me.
The almond. The luck. For me. From Paul.
I baked bread. The weekly promise. The house smelled like rye and anise. The dark was outside. Paul was inside. The bread was in the oven.
We are holding our own.
The bread is the promise I keep every week — the one I can keep, when so many others feel uncertain. Paul can’t smell the anise and rye the way he used to, but I bake it anyway, because the house needs to smell like something alive and warm, and because it’s the one ritual that belongs entirely to us. These honey whole wheat pan rolls aren’t limpa, but they carry the same spirit: something soft and golden pulled from the oven while the dark presses against the windows, something that says we are still here. This is the bread I’ll make for the smaller Christmas — for the julbord Paul asked for, with the candles and the almond and every small thing still possible.
Honey Whole Wheat Pan Rolls
Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 2 hr 15 min (includes rise time) | Servings: 24 rolls
Ingredients
- 2 packages (1/4 oz each) active dry yeast
- 1 3/4 cups warm water (110°F–115°F), divided
- 1/4 cup honey, plus 1 tablespoon for brushing
- 3 tablespoons butter, softened, plus more for pan
- 1 1/2 teaspoons salt
- 2 cups whole wheat flour
- 2 1/2 to 3 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 egg, lightly beaten
- 1 tablespoon butter, melted (for finishing)
Instructions
- Proof the yeast. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in 1/2 cup warm water with 1 tablespoon honey. Let stand 5–10 minutes until foamy.
- Mix the dough. Add remaining 1 1/4 cups warm water, remaining honey, butter, salt, egg, and whole wheat flour to the yeast mixture. Beat until smooth. Gradually stir in enough all-purpose flour to form a soft, slightly sticky dough.
- Knead. Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead 8–10 minutes until smooth and elastic. Add flour as needed to prevent sticking.
- First rise. Place dough in a lightly greased bowl, turning once to coat. Cover with a clean towel and let rise in a warm place until doubled, about 1 hour.
- Shape the rolls. Punch dough down. Divide into 24 equal pieces and shape each into a smooth ball. Place in two greased 9x13-inch baking pans. Cover and let rise again until doubled, about 30 minutes.
- Bake. Preheat oven to 375°F. Bake rolls 18–22 minutes until golden brown on top and cooked through.
- Finish. Brush warm rolls with melted butter immediately after removing from oven. Serve warm.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 118 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 162mg
About the cook who shared this
Linda Johansson
Week 188 of Linda’s 30-year story
· Duluth, Minnesota
Linda is a sixty-three-year-old retired nurse from Duluth, Minnesota, living alone in the house where she raised her children and said goodbye to her husband. She lost Paul to ALS in 2020 after two years of watching the kindest man she'd ever known lose everything but his dignity. She cooks Scandinavian comfort food and Minnesota hotdish and the pot roast Paul loved, and she sets two places at the table out of habit because it makes her feel less alone. Every recipe she writes is a person she's loved.