I grew up celebrating the 4th of July at the Tofte Park with a parade, a hoedown, food and family fun! And of course fireworks! The evening would end with us lying on old sleeping bags down on the rocky shore of Lake Superior watching the night sky light up with bold explosions of color.
I lit my first firecracker on the Fourth of July when I was about ten. I also had three firecrackers go off in my hand on the very same day… I was sure I had blown off a couple of fingers so I guess I was lucky to survive with severe burns. I guess my stupidity is one of the reasons why firecrackers are now illegal in Minnesota. (However I found out cap guns are still legal. I might have to find one of those!)
Small town summer festivals are the most interesting. I have attended several throughout my life and they all have relatively the same quality of neighbors and friends from near and far getting together to enjoy a weekend of fun. One year our family went to Wrong Days In Wright where my aunt and uncle have a cabin.
Let me tell you nothing could be more wrong than my dad and uncle dressed in drag for a parade. Seeing my dad in a wig and red lipstick left me and my cousins rolling on the ground in laughter for hours! And who could erase the picture of Uncle Clayton wearing one of Aunt Gen’s dresses from their memory. I never took the guy seriously again.
One summer we went to Paul Bunyan Days and I was scared to death of that huge creepy statue calling my name. I looked at my brother Gary in awe as he headed right up to Paul Bunyan and sat on his foot. How could he be so brave? And how in the heck did Paul Bunyan know my name anyway? Parents should think, “The giant statue might give my kid nightmares” before handing over a slip of paper with her name on it! What next? A clown tiptoes into my room at midnight? No wait, that really was a nightmare.
Lazy Days in Ladysmith, Wisconsin was educational. I was not aware we had crossed the state line until the girl we were visiting took me around the neighborhood and introduced me as her “Minnesota Friend” like I was a rare oddity. (Little did she know when I turned 18 Wisconsin would be my go-to state for a yummy Tom Collins at the Superior Poodle Lounge.) She and I spent hours at the Lazy Days sidewalk sales, stuffing raffle boxes with our names trying to win anything. We didn’t care if it was golf pants or perennials; we just wanted to win something.
Every summer ended with the four-day celebration of the Fisherman’s Picnic in Grand Marais. We knew then that school would be starting soon so this would be our last chance to “party” before the summer ended. It was also a chance to see our friends, walk around town and enjoy some great food. The smell of herring fish sandwiches permeates the air and I remember that being the food of choice when I was a kid. Now my family can choose from any number of ethnic foods like gyros and eggrolls or traditional festival cheese curds and mini doughnuts. I am so happy to share these traditions with my family but trust me I will never be in a parade dressed as either Paul Bunyan or a clown. My children do not need to see that. Happy Summer!
Summertime is always the
best of what might be.
Charles Bowden
Taste of Home columnist Sandy (Anderson) Holthaus lives on a farm in South Haven, MN with her husband, Michael, and their children Zoe, Jack and Ben. Her heart remains on the North Shore where she grew up with her parents, Art and LaVonne Anderson of Schroeder. She enjoys writing about her childhood and mixes memories with delicious helpings of home-style recipes.
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