The man smiles.  “Honest to Pete, it happens all the time.  Most think I look like that hatchet-guy from St. Paul.  Too bad I can’t look like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp instead of some crazed maniac.  Oh, there I got, blabbing on and on again.  Come on inside.”

“Thanks.  Yeah, I’m Kevin, Barb’s husband.”

“Henry Hutchinson.  From Fridley.  Your wife is in the bathroom.  Let’s go out back.  The first round of steaks is almost done.”