The World's Largest Wild Rice Festival

Well the reunion came and went, and dare I say it was a blustering  success!  20 years of missed conversations with great people all packed into one night.  Anna and I traveled home together sans kids and husbands- something we have not done since our ten year reunion!  Who would have thought we could have the best girls weekend away in Deer River?? (This is us being mature and fun.)


Not only was it our 20^th reunion, Deer River, Minnesota also hosted it over one of the best weekends of the year:  The World’s Largest Wild Rice Festival.  What an amazing coincidence!

Yes, in Minnesota, we have festivals around our native foods!  As kids, we always looked forward to the festivities.  Surprisingly, it took me being gone for 20 years to realize what a unique privilege this little celebration was.  Where much of the year Northerners retreat to their summer cabins on the water, or hibernate during the long winter months in their warm log homes and fireplaces, this little gem of a weekend brings EVERYONE- old and young out of the woodworks.

While the Carnival rides go on for the littles Friday evening through Sunday afternoon, Bingo games sponsored by the Lions Club go on for the older folks that are feeling a little lucky.

Friday evening is kicked off by a Turtle Feed. No this is not a place where you buy food for your pet turtle.  Mr. Turtle is the main dish for this event!  (Hide your turtles, kids!)

Next, the Leech Lake Ojibwe Tribe hosts a Pow-Wow for all to celebrate and learn about their Native American culture through song, dance, and dress.  Everyone is invited to observe and even participate.

Later, the local Vets Club sponsors the Beer Garden all night- where the darkest beer you’ll find is an amber that you can still see through- which is a sin in some countries.  On the other side of the block you can find the street shut down and the dance going on both Friday and Saturday evening.  (This is Anna with her "I don't know what to do with two beers" face.)

If you’re up and at 'em early enough the next day, Saturday is kicked off by the Wild Rice Run (race) and a bike rodeo for the kids to have a chance to win a bike and enjoy some ice cream.  This is serious business for these little guys! 

Saturday is also the big day for the flea market and this isn’t just any flea market.  Here you can find some unique gifts, such as taxidermy...

 Shotguns or rifles for hunting...

And raffles that support the local high school trip to Washington DC with a chance to win a beautiful custom-designed bon fire pit.  Though I entered, I wasn't quite sure how to haul this baby home if I was lucky enough to win.

Sunday afternoon is the big parade, where you will find true hometown pride, as we salute the veterans marching with the flag.  Additionally, we pay tribute to the other hometown heroes- the volunteer fire fighters and EMT workers of Deer River and neighboring towns.

Local businesses, student clubs, and even a princess or two can be spotted riding in the floats and on top of cars. 

All will be throwing candy out into the crowds for eager little ones to come racing into the street and fill their bags- because you can still get away with this in a small town.

And this simple festival is all the town needs for an opportunity to catch up with old friends that haven't seen each other since spring thaw.  One can sit down, enjoy an indian taco with some wild rice soup and a Bud Lite.


The weekend was a whirlwind.  I left with a full belly, sleep deprived, and mentally restored.  In addition to catching up with friends, going home to Deer River reminds me to take the time to enjoy the little pleasures in life that I tend to overlook when I am rushing around to the next big thing.  And this is why I come home.

(photo credits to Anna Lise Photography)

Old Milwaukee and BB Guns

Excitement built up in my chest like a geyser eruption, planting a perma-grin on my face as I pulled up the driveway in my flashy chrisom red rental car.  The screen door burst open with a painful screech and I instantly recognized the genuine smile I had known all my life.  His eyes sparkled when he looked at me. 

Before my dad could even take a step forward, Hersh, the old brown Chesapeake retriever, dashed towards me in chunky leaps and bounds.  My muscles tensed and I braced myself against the car and tried to shield my yellow sundress against the inevitable.  Her tongue hung lazily out of her mouth and a trail of saliva slithered off slowly and flung free in the air as she ran.  She was dirty, smelled of swamp, and her heart was full as she nearly trampled me to the ground.

“Hersh!  Down!” My dad politely disciplined her, halfheartedly, attempting to cover his amusement.  I knew how his mind worked.  A little dirt was good for me.  It reminded me of who I was.

The heels from my strappy sandals sunk down into gravel of the driveway.  I knew it was a dumb idea to wear them up north, but I couldn’t resist.  They just matched too perfectly-  an irrelevant concept on the farm.  My dad would tell me the dogs and horses don’t care if you match or not as he wore his thin gray t-shirt that was about as weathered as his rosy cheekbones.

Dad worked from sunrise to sunset everyday.  We, his children all had a list of chores that had to be done every night when we got home from school before we were allowed to do anything else.  One of my daily chores was to carry in a wheelbarrow full of firewood every night to the basement.  It was always expected and dad wasn't any easier on his three girls than he would have if he had boys. As his age began to catch up with him, I speculated his bones were probably weaker than mine, yet he now insisted on carrying in my belongings.    For some reason, my dad now felt it was his duty to make things easier for me now that I was older.  I couldn’t help but think how backwards this seemed.

He rested my bags at the door and like a small child, he could not wait to show me all his new toys. 

First it was a loop around the house on the three-wheeler so I could check out how good she was running.  He pointed out some of the work that had been done on the dock after a storm had blown through and ripped a few pieces off.



Then we went out to the back deck where I was handed an Old Milwaukee in a can and some smoked fish as we talked about how he had net the fish under the ice the past winter.  I knew Dad would think I was being ridiculous if I asked for a glass to pour the beer in.  So I drank it out of the can- like I used to.  I wondered at what point did I become so girly?  Had I always been?



Finally the afternoon was topped off as my dad handed me the BB gun he kept around the corner- loaded and close enough to reach to ward off any varmints that got to close to the house.  We were taught from the age we began crawling to respect guns- and not to touch them unsupervised.  So it was not strange to me that he left them around the house in various corners.


Then, as the breeze brushed the fresh smell of the northern waters past my nose, I clenched the BB gun and tucked it neatly into my shoulder.  It was somewhere in that moment as I squinted my eye through the sight and shot off the deck at a pop can in the backyard, a wave of comfort swept over me.  I fired a shot, snapping the can into the air.  The loons called back from the lake, complaining of the gunshot noise.  I had forgotten how amazing it felt to shoot- even if it was a little BB gun.  I knew we'd get to the 'bigger stuff' later.  It was required.  I surveyed the scene, smiling, and taking it all in.

I knew I was home.