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)

Dear Class of 1997

Dear Class of 1997,

Can we eat nachos yet?

As I have the day off today, I am throwing random clothes into my suitcase for my long awaited trip.  (That is a lie. They're actually color-coded and rolled neatly to prevent wrinkles.)  This weekend I’ll be heading home to Minnesota for my 20^th reunion.  Only four more days! 

20 years!  How crazy is that?  What an accomplishment.  What a lifetime ago- that seems like it was just yesterday.  And when did we get... old?

I’m so beyond excited; however, I cannot help but see a few apprehensive posts and messages on Facebook in addition to the excitement.  Could it be true- that at our 38/39-year-old place in life, that we are still nervous to see the ones that saw us back when we had overall jeans and mullets?

Quick answer?  Yes.  Probably.  There is some stupid pressure that goes along with having been graduated for 20 years.  We should definitely have it all together by now, right?  We should be gently snuggled into our career field of choice, with a 401K growing ever so diligently.  We should have our debts paid off and a nice college fund saved up for each of our kids, right?  We should have our ‘forever’ home bought and at least a decade into the mortgage, right?  Student debts should all be paid off by now, degrees are all completed, and we’re living all happily ever with our significant other. Oh, and we’ve also managed to lose those 15 pounds we’ve been battling since college, or post-babies, or whatever, right?

Oh crap.  But what if we don’t?

What if we’re still trying to figure out what we want to be?  Or paying off debts, or trying to lose the weight?  Hell, I’m still fighting with pimples- and wrinkles!  What kind of an evil is that about?

 And now, we are 4 days away.  I’m thinking I’m probably not going to lose the weight or the wrinkles.  But I was able to color some of the gray out of my hair.  Because I’m sure everyone will care- because I know I’m going to be analyzing everyone else’s gray hair.  Or… not at all. 

The reality is, I’m so beyond excited to see the friends and classmates that I grew up with for 13+ years.  I cannot wait to hear their stories and what their secrets are to surviving this life.  I cannot wait to laugh at old stories, and reminisce.  I cannot wait to share a beer and sincerely just see everyone for who they really are, because there is something so unique and special about the bond that you form as kids.  There is an understanding- an unspoken knowledge of the many things that we all went through to become the adults that we have become.  They know.  They were there.

And so, four days away from my reunion, as I’m packing my suitcase, I think I’m going to enjoy a plate of nachos and a beer.  Maybe I’ll even wait until after noon.  Maybe.

And the Story Continues Here...

As my memoir has officially been released in paper/hardcover and e-books, I will wrap up this blog with a link to the book behind the blog as well as pictures from the release party.  I cannot thank everyone enough for all of the great support.  Get your copy of the story here: 

 http://amzn.com/1943226083

     I grew up in Deer River, MN - a one-stoplight town of 903 people. Two weeks after I graduated high school way back in the old days (1997) when everything was in black and white, I enlisted in the Navy in a combat aircrew position that had just been opened up to women. At first we were mistaken by tiny hairless men. Quite a few people told me I was crazy and I would be back home before I knew it. Some of the old WWII veterans patted my shoulder, and nodded, wishing me luck. My dad, fearing my safety, begged me not to go. Honestly, I had no idea what I was getting myself into - which probably was best that way. I just knew I didn’t want to fail.

     Spoiler alert - I didn’t go off and become a war hero. I didn’t save the world. I didn’t win the Noble Peace Prize or even receive the perfect attendance award (I was runner-up); however, I did serve my country, met some lifelong friends, flew over 1300 hours in a war-fighting machine, kicked some submarine ass, and learned a few lessons (the hard way). This book is a compilation of short stories and those lessons learned.

     If you are looking for Steinbeck or Dickens, you probably should put this book back on the shelf and keep looking. However, if you are looking for random entertaining stories that begin with conjunctions, contain cheesy metaphors, and improper sentence structure- well this, my friend, may be the book for you. You may laugh. You may cry. You may want to dance on a barstool next time the opportunity arises. I’m not a writer, I’m a story teller. And this is my story.

I will continue keep my site updated at www.juliamaki.com and will be available to answer questions/comments to the best of my abilities here:  capturingthestory@gmail.com

I hope it inspires, informs, and entertains you.  Always remember- there isn't anything you cannot do!  Dreams come true every day.  Who's not to say today is YOUR day?!

I have the most amazing friends!

My Mom

With Anna, my BFF

The VP-8 guys

My old SS-1 "Rugged"

With friend and fellow military blogger, Dog Tags And Heels

And don't forget- I have books for the little readers out there. 

No, not this book.

These ones:

All my best. ~J.

Halloween Up North

 

With Halloween right around the corner and my kids making plans for their costumes, I cannot help but think how differently they are growing up in Maryland compared to how I did back in Northern Minnesota - even with the little things, that one doesn’t think about everyday - like trick-or-treating.

For starters, growing up in the country, our closest neighbor was ¼ mile away, so it was necessary for my dad to drive us kids to each house.  This meant that our costumes had to fit neatly in the car and allow room for a seatbelt.  No big boxes or huge accessories for our costumes.  Goodbye to my dreams of being a robot or a Ghostbuster with an oversized proton pack.

Next, and most obvious, was the weather.  One could usually put money on it that no matter what, it would be frigid, freezing, or even blizzard-like conditions.  Thankfully, this was just a typical day in Minnesota, and we continued to trick-or-treat in those conditions like during “The Great Blizzard of 1991.”  However, this also meant that our costumes had to be loose enough that we could fit long underwear underneath of them.  Trust me, long underwear looks ridiculous under a Princess Jasmine costume - as Jasmine was the princess of the hour back then.  Instead, I went as a mime that year.  Accordingly, gloves and a hat were already a part of my costume accessories.

Another fact was that as kids, we didn’t know that people really checked their candy for razor blades and rat poison - as my parents knew everyone from which we begged for candy.  As kids, we grew to know them by what they handed out every year.  There was the lady that handed out the apples, as well as which house gave out Red Hots - a favorite of mine.  Then there was the house that gave out full-size candy bars; most of the time they only had a few trick-or-treaters, so it was quite affordable for them to do so.  And if my two sisters and I did not show up at their house, they would lose half of their visitors.  It was almost expected that we would be there.

Naturally since we knew everyone, (they were usually the older people from our church) trick-or-treating usually took even longer as most of the time we were required to pose for a picture in our Halloween costumes.  It was like we had 20 sets of grandparents.

At the time I remember watching kids on TV shows walking around neighborhoods and getting tons of candy.  I was jealous of their fancy Jasmine costumes made of thin shiny silk.  They just walked door to door in warm weather as they accumulated huge bags of candy.  As I grew older, I begged my dad to at least let me go into ‘town’ with my friends and go door-to-door.  He refused and insisted instead that I continue to ‘help’ with my little sisters until well beyond a trick-or-treating age.  I, of course, thought he was the cruelest parent ever.

Then one day I grew up and moved away.  As I look back at my Halloween memories, I realize they are much like Christmas or other holiday memories.  As a child, you just don’t see the whole picture; you are too focused on the instant gratification - and what is going on in your world.  Now I realize why my dad would drive us way out into the sticks to the ‘apple lady’s’ house.  I see why we had to stand and politely listen to those “old people’s stories” as they told about the costumes or traditions they followed when they were children.  Our visits may have been the only time these elderly people had many visitors at all.

Looking back, I realize how simple it really is to make someone’s day.  I suppose it was the secret that my dad had learned years ago.

Crime and Punishment in the 21st Century

(CC's actual paper)



My youngest daughter came home last night and declared she had to write ‘I will not write bad words on the bus window’ five times.  My stomach sunk as I took a deep breath, and asked her what she wrote- cringing at what I might hear.

“Poopy.”

“Poopy?  You wrote ‘poopy’ on the bus window?”  Relief instantly flooded through me and I actually held back a chuckle.  Okay.  I could handle poopy.  However I must not let on my relief.

“CC you know better than to write words like poopy.  I expect better out of you.” And l sent her to bed without dinner.  Just kidding.  I’m not THAT mean.  Instead I made her scrub out the garbage disposal until 2 a.m.

The thing is, I’m pretty sure I wrote much, much worse on the bus window.  I found myself trying to recall if I was just never caught, or my old Deer River bus driver, Dale, just didn’t really care too much if I wrote ‘poopy’ on the bus window.  He had better things to worry about.  Or maybe he was just a realist.

I recall the day I was in kindergarten and sitting in the first seat.  A gross, mean first-grade boy (kid terminology) was sitting next to me going on and on with his annoying self.  Finally my blood was boiling and I couldn’t take it any longer.  I wound up like they did in the movies and with full forced punched him in his face.  I remember being instantly shocked because it made a ‘smacking’ sound- just like it did in the movies.  Yes, that was my first thought.  Did anyone else hear how cool that sounded?  My second was, Holy poopy.  What did I just do?

“Julia!  What did you do that for!?!” Dale yelled at me from the driver seat.  I could see just his eyes in the mirror- staring at me, waiting for an answer.  Mr. Mean Boy just stood there in shock with his hand on his puffy cheek.

“He was being mean to me,” I replied in a very tiny girl voice.  It was the truth.  He was being poopy and I just couldn’t handle it any longer.  So I stood up for myself.  I did something that I’m sure would be immediate school suspension for violence these days- the age in which a child is suspended for chewing a poptart into the shape of a gun.  (Sad, but true story:  http://www.nydailynews.com/news/national/boy-suspended-gun-shaped-pop-tart-lifetime-nra-membership-article-1.1359918) 

Back in 1984, Dale saw it for what it was: A victorious moment for a kindergarten girl who just learned that she didn’t have to stand there and take a bunch of poop from a first grade boy.  Violent?  Perhaps.  But a pretty fabulous lesson if you ask me.  Thank you Dale, for teaching me to always stand up to poop-head people.  A lesson that later followed me around in life as I earned the call-sign “Knuckles” in the military.  But that’s another story.

And Mr. Mean Pants never bothered me again. 

Now, if only I knew what to do about my poopy-mouthed little daughter...

What the #%&! is a terrapin?

My not-so-native-Marylander-moment.

“Now remember class, because of the snow days this year, we didn’t get as far into our science chapter about the terrapins as far as we had planned.  So today when we go on our field trip, we are really going to learn about the lifecycle of the terrapin and their impact on our local environment,” the young, hip third grade teacher declared as we all anxiously awaited to bus up for our field trip to the Flag Ponds Nature Park.

My son sat in the desk in front of me, randomly twisting some wire he randomly pulled out of his pocket.  He still was excited that I was chaperoning and I knew my days of doing so for him were numbered.  Soon I would no longer be ‘cool’ enough.  Funny boy.  It’s like he doesn’t realize how cool I really am.

Although I was quite cool, I was from Deer River.  And in Deer River, we did not have terrapins.  Honestly, I had no idea what the #%&! a terrapin was.  But I was going to find out today.  And so of course, I would not let on that I did not know.  Not even to Joey.

 

******

The scenery at the beach was beautiful- right out of a magazine.  The Chesapeake Bay was in all of its glory on that fine April morning.  The sun sparkled down upon the waves and the breeze blew a chilled freshness over the sand.  The shorelines were long and slender with a path of darkness stained by the outgoing tide. 

We (the chaperones) were all assigned a station.  Mr. Fred (a park volunteer) went through our instructions explicitly as we were to check the Bay’s salinity, measure the beach for areas conducive for laying eggs, and stream a net through the water for the fun of watching the children wear waders and fall down in the water.  (I’m sure that was the reason)  And of course, they loved it!  We all did.   What a glorious way to spend the morning- even if we had to discipline the 3^rd grade boys to leave the large chunks of driftwood on the ground.  Okay, I guess it was mostly just Joey I was disciplining (no surprise there). 

The children were learning about their native environment- how to respect it and take care of it.  And just as I had once learned about respectful logging, making maple syrup, canoes from birch trees, wolves, bears, and freshwater lakes, my children were learning about the Chesapeake Bay and its riches.  They were taught about the tradition of oyster drudging, preserving the beaches and pines, the crabs and…terrapins.  And yes, I still could not figure out what the #@$# a terrapin was.

The park volunteer began instructing the children- adding together the results of our day’s discoveries.   And that’s when she made the mistake that would cost her.  It wasn’t her fault.  Someone should have warned her.  She couldn’t have known what would happen when she used the ‘algorithm’ method of math.  But when she carried that number into the tens place- it was too late.  She damn near was stoned on the spot by those innocent looking kids.  All of the third graders did common core math now.  It was crazy math that changed everything about math as we knew it.  I knew then and there I wouldn’t be raising any more waves today by asking silly questions.

So I began my own logic:  deductive reasoning.

I knew Maryland had some amazing stingrays and skates that were really a neat part of the environment but then when they spoke of laying eggs on the beach, I determined that it could not, in fact, be a stingray.  Perhaps a crab?

Then they spoke about the Bycatch Reduction Device (BRD) on crab pots- how the crabs would swim into them, but the terrapins could swim out.  So nope, it was not a crab.

Eventually the buses came and went.  School ended and everyone went home.  Had dinner.  Kids did their homework.  It wasn’t until I was out sipping a beautiful well-earned glass of wine (it was just that kind of day) out on the porch, telling my dear friend about the day when it dawned on me.  I still didn’t know.

It was in that moment that I turned to her, looked her square in the eye, and asked with the utmost of importance, “Please, can you tell me what the #$%@ a terrapin is?!?”

“A turtle, Julia.  It’s a turtle.”

Vacation, what??

This one time- I went on a vacation.  

Being slightly obsessive like I am, I planned it to a 'T'.  I had made reservations a year in advance.  I packed and planned for weeks.  I made list, after neurotic list, of every possible item needed and tasks to be completed before we left.    I printed off games from the Internet for the kids for the 25-hour car ride. (one way, that is)  I put together little kits for them, and had stocked the truck with kid-friendly DVDs and juice boxes. (100% juice of course.  I know the "Good Mom Rules")   I created a playlist on my iPod for every day that we were there- for background music.  Ha- only kidding.  Mostly.

I left instructions for my house-sitters.  I prepared in every way I possibly could. 

So when we arrived at our little old-fashion resort cabin in Deer River 2.5 days after leaving Maryland, I couldn’t have been more ecstatic to REALLY get the vacation started and indulge in some much needed RELAXATION time. 

As soon as we arrived, the kids threw on their swimming suits and were down to the beach in seconds.  They were completely entertained by the lake, sand, and catching bugs.  

We water-skied. (which is my secret super-power, by the way.)  It's true.  I can water-ski like a duck lands on water.  [insert better simile here]

We swam, we jet-skied, and we barbecued.  Life was good.

And then.. something happened.  Mother Nature had other plans. 

It was our second full day there.  We had just settled down to eat our dinner when the sky began to darken. 

Naturally, I grew excited for a good ol’ Minnesotan thunderstorm to bring on a lightening show and impress the kids with a few explosions of thunder.  Minnesota does thunderstorms.

What I failed to anticipate:  Straight-lined, tornado-like winds that whipped across the lake at a monstrous 80 mph.  It collided with the land like a brick wall, tearing up everything in its path.  I could not see the other side of the small lake.

Safe in our quaint but small, one-level cabin, we helplessly watched as boats were plucked up from the waters and swept over the dock.  The pontoon tie-downs were breaking free from the posts, causing the pontoons to float away into the depths of the lake.  The trees began to crack and fall with a bone-chilling crash.  It was none short of a nightmare. 

And then... as quickly as it arrived, it fled, leaving nothing but a light rainfall from the clouds.

We all rushed out to assess the situation.  Thankfully, everyone was okay.  So we set out to attempt the rescue of all the pontoons and boats that had torn away from the dock, and clear out all of the fallen trees that now blocked our path out. 

My dad could not get to his nearby house due to the downed trees and power lines.  He had to park half way home and walk in the rest of the way to the house.  He later discovered a tree on his house and his pontoon (that had been tied and anchored 3 times) was gone, taking along with it- the end of his dock.  By this point, nightfall had come and it was too dark to see a thing.

The entire city of Deer River and its surrounding areas were without electricity.  Trees rested upon houses and vehicles everywhere.  In every direction, trees were either uprooted or snapped right in half.  Some homes were a total loss.  In all of my years, I had never seen anything like it there.

The next day was spent with chainsaws and wheelbarrows as we removed, repaired, and recovered as much as possible.  By the end of the day- we had secured most of the immediate necessary repairs, though much work will continue over the rest of the summer.

By the next day we attempted to resume our ‘vacation’.  However now, we were really roughing it.  We did not have electricity, water, or air-conditioning.  Thankfully we had a lake.  Yes, a lake is a fabulous place to take a bath (in a swimsuit of course unless you sneak out at night).  We could haul up water from the lake to use to flush the toilet.  (Carefully watching for fish, of course, as nothing clogs a toilet more than a walleye...)  We lived like they did on Little House on the Prairie- except with beer.  Thank God for beer.   

We bought ice and attempted to save our refrigerated foods in coolers in addition to keeping the beer cold.  And when night came, we lay atop our covers scantily dressed in a starfish position and prayed for any type of wind or air movement to cool our severely sweltering bodies in the 90+ degrees.  Only, it didn’t.  Instead we were lulled to sleep with the constant buzzing of mosquitoes gnawing on our half-naked bodies.

Despite all of this…..

I must admit, my vacation helped me appreciate my ‘normal’ life in which I am spoiled by many of life’s luxuries.  Running water.  A flushing toilet.  Lights.  Air-conditioning.  Cold beer.

I had extra time to focus on and visit with my crazy family.  And yes, they truly are crazy.

On the night before we were to leave- lo and behold the lights suddenly came to life.  We screamed as if we had won a car on The Price is Right.  We celebrated by turning on every single light in the cabin and flushing the toilet repeatedly.  Then we realized that this was silly and wasteful, so we stopped.

The town slowly came to life again.  Everyone was a bit disheveled, but okay.  They have survived worse.  Things like this almost always brings neighbors together- helping each other out.  And that is what it did.  True story.  (as my sister- the crazy one- always likes to say.)  

Finally, I am happy to report that I was able to get my ‘Bowling Alley Pizza’ as they resumed making them on my last day there.  All is right now.  (It’s a Deer River thing.)

 Power lines across the road.

Cutting down the tree on the house.

One tree uprooted, the other had the top half blown off.

Our dock.  It used to be the shape of an 'L'.

Retrieving the end of the dock that is still attached to the pontoon.  Yay we found it!

The best pizza in the world.  Seriously.  If you ever are in Deer River- you MUST stop at the Blueberry Bowling Alley!  Tell them you'd like the "Maki Special".  

It's pure joy for your mouth.