Fireworks in Fredenberg
Dr. Bob McVean, a friend and my chiropractor, said something last night that will stay with me. We were at his folks’ place on Island Lake for a post-4th of July picnic and bonfire the day after Independence Day. We were sitting around, enjoying balmy weather, watching clouds begin to gather for a summer cloud burst, shooting the breeze, when Dr. Bob interjected a thoughtful note into our conversation.
“Isn’t it a great thing to belong to families who enjoy each others’ company?”
I had no retort. I didn’t even nod my head. Bob’s comment, a simple, one sentence acknowledgement of the gathering at his parents’ place was as profound, maybe more so, than anything I’d ever chronicled in a book or a blog. And it formed the perfect introduction to this piece, a reflection on how I spent the 4th of July this year.
For over two decades, my family has gathered at my wife’s brother Greg’s cabin on Island Lake for Privette family 4th of July. Not this year. Greg’s back has been giving him grief, and, as anyone who has ever invited family to a large gathering, be it a 50th wedding celebration, Christmas or Easter or Thanksgiving dinner, or simply for a Saturday picnic knows, trying to get your place ready for company takes physical effort. Having a bad back isn’t conducive to getting everything around the place just right for guests. Rene’ and I learned that there’d be no gathering at Greg and Sue’s cabin a couple of weeks before the 4th. We knew Dylan, our second eldest, and his girlfriend Michelle would be in town and so, my wife wove together an alternative to our traditional Independence Day. We invited all three emancipated sons, their significant others, and our singular grandchild, AJ, to picnic on the 4th at the Munger farm. We opened the invitation up to Rene’s sister, Colleen Schostag, her husband Al, and their two kids, as well as my folks and their partners. Sadly, this is the first 4th of July that both of Rene’s parents aren’t around to enjoy. Don and Merc Privette used to wait all year for the party at Greg and Sue’s. It was the one time during the year besides Christmas they got to see all their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren gathered together. They weren’t here in body to enjoy the sun filled day spent along the banks of the river. But their spirits were certainly with us. And my dad couldn’t make it either: he’s recovering from carpal tunnel surgery and wasn’t in the mood for celebrating.
Claire Schostag on the trampoline
The 4th. Even with the weight of getting ready for the day on Rene’ and my shoulders, by the time folks started arriving, we were relaxed and ready to enjoy company. That’s not always the case, as Dr. Bob so aptly observed. Often times, efforts at celebratory perfection leaves the hosts of family gatherings tired and ill tempered, which in turn leads to discord. Didn’t happen this year. There wasn’t a tense moment or a quick, thoughtless response throughout the day that I could discern. And the weather. Ah, yes. The weather. The skies were clear and open to the blue vault of heaven (maybe so Don and Merc could see what was going on?) with just enough south breeze off the Big Lake, to keep the bugs at bay and keep the swelter off our backs. At the height of the day, Alex Schostag, his sister Claire, our youngest son Jack, and I tumbled down wooden stairs into the cold and welcoming grasp of the Cloquet. Later, all four Munger boys and the two Schostag kids engaged in an impromptu soccer match on the back lawn. Footballs were tossed. AJ enjoyed his new swing. The adults reminisced.
AJ Munger, Rene’ Munger , Barb and Duane Tourville
AJ Munger and Claire Schostag
Chris Munger, Colleen Schostag, Dylan Munger
- Jack Munger, Lisa Munger, and Shelly Helgeson
And of course, there was food. My mom, Barb Tourville, brought a mountain of potato salad. Others brought corn, cold salads, deserts, beans, and assorted side dishes. Rene’ slaved over a hot grill cooking brats and ‘dogs and burgers. There were coolers filled with soda and a variety of adult beverages. And there was conversation. Intelligent, respectful, polite (I’m not kidding!) discussions about politics, fracking, and family. Being a collection of Catholics, Lutherans, and Episcopalians, we didn’t talk religion. There wasn’t a hint of argument or upset. Not a hint. There also wasn’t much discussion of the reason we all had the day off: there was little recognition of the day our country declared that it was no longer a colony of a foreign power. Pretty important day to remember, if you’re an American. And yet, we all sort of took it for granted as we sipped cold Leinnies and chewed on our plates of vittles. Still, the importance of the day’s history was visible, I think, on the faces of everyone there. We all, down to little AJ, seemed to understand how damn lucky we are to live where we live: in a nation where we can love who we want without recrimination, work at the the job suited for our talents, and live where and how we choose. I’m not sure the collective herd of ten dogs that ran around the Munger farm this Independence Day thought much more than “Darn, what a great place to live”. But I’m sure that even little Kena, barely seven weeks old, the newest Munger dog, understood something special was happening.
Colleen and Alex Schostag
Al Schostag
Matt Munger
When the skies cleared of pyrotechnics and the night descended over the newly mown field around the house, the real celebration began. Thousands, perhaps millions, of lampyridae, fire flies, emerged from their hiding places. Soon, the field and the low sky were filled with blinking, winking, undulating flashes of green and yellow light. It’s as if God the artist had chosen to accent our farm with the tip of a luminescent paint brush putting Her emphasis on the importance of family being the foundation of this great land we call home.
Dawn, the day after.
Peace.
Mark
