North for the Fourth

Being as I live in a tourist town and we live on the edge of the arctic circle so that we see one week of summer a year, our chamber of commerce has always done up a big Fourth of July celebration. My hometown is Tomahawk, so this celebration has always been called the Pow Wow Days. I am surprised that the city is still able to get away with that. Shh, please don’t tattle on us.

 It seemed however like this was a much bigger thing when I was a kid. They even set up carnival rides on the west end of Main Street. One time I rode on the tilt-a-whirl so many times right in a row that I actually threw up when I finally got off of the spinning thing. Yea, there’s a memory I should have kept to myself.

There was also the year that a tornado struck north of town. I think it was around 1978. From the east end of Main Street, my friends and I watched green swirling clouds descend upon the city. About the time we decided we should seek cover, torrential rain started coming down. We raced for Hanke’s Super Market and asked to use the phone to let our parents know we were safe, because that’s the kind of responsible kids we were. The clerk, being equally responsible, said it wasn’t safe to use the phone in the storm, so we ran back out of the store and slogged our way to Brenda’s sister’s house two more blocks away. Yea, that was another smart move.

This year? Nothing so exciting. Here are a few views of our downtown, three hours before the big parade. Several people told me that most of these chairs were actually set up by six am (the parade is at one pm). And myself? Well before the parade started, I was home again, eating a brat and cheese curds that I had bought downtown. Like, I said, nothing exciting.  

Water and Fire

This past Sunday, my husband and I took a ride up north. I'll eventually sort out all of the pictures I took, but  in light of current events, I thought I could get all inspired by this picture.

Driving through the little town of Glidden, population 507, we noticed that the Chippewa River which flows right through town, had overrun its banks. Someone had stuck this measuring stick in the middle of the city park to monitor the depth of the water. Sorry that I couldn't get a reading on that stick.

Glidden sits just over 100 miles southeast of Duluth, which you may have heard had flooded on June 20. No doubt, some of the flood waters had made their way down the Chippewa River to this little berg.

Much further south, the northern half of Florida has seen flooding from Tropical Storm Debby. So much water, everywhere, or so it would seem.

On the flip side there are the devastating wildfires in Colorado. Having lived in Douglas County, Colorado, back in the mid-80's, I visited Garden of the Gods, the Air Force Academy, Manitou Springs, and many other places being threatened by fire. Looking at some of the horrendous pictures on the internet, I can feel the heat and smell the smoke.

Seems like there should be a way to even out these extremes. But pretty much all we can do is fight back the best we can, and turn the rest over to God.