“Where the coffee’s hot, the lakes are cold, and all the children are above average.” — Serving the Chain since 1897.
The Smoke
Haze from the fires burning up north arrived Sunday evening and stayed. An air-quality advisory runs through Wednesday, the elders have been moved indoors with varying degrees of consent, and the sunsets are spectacular in a way no one feels entirely right about.
The smoke came down Sunday evening on a north wind, the way company arrives from that direction generally: unannounced, all at once, and planning to stay a few days. By Monday morning the far shore of Big Pelican was a rumor, the sun rose the color of a canning tomato, and the state pollution people had posted an air-quality advisory for the north country through Wednesday morning — orange for everyone, red for stretches, with the standard advice to take it easy, stay indoors where possible, and move what can be moved.
Misquah has spent the week moving what can be moved. Band camp has gone into the gym (story elsewhere in this edition). Monday’s Legion game was called after seven (likewise). The library propped its door shut instead of open, which the building found confusing. And Harold Aas, 81, was relocated from his bench at the fish-cleaning station to the Daybreak’s window table by a coalition of parties he described as “organized against me.” He is taking it under protest and cream, and reports that the fish being cleaned without his supervision are “smaller, probably.”
The fires themselves are a long way off — up in the border country and beyond it — and this newspaper wants to be plain that Misquah’s inconvenience is the smallest possible share of them. Fire chief Gary Sundberg, asked what the department was doing, said “watching the wind, same as everybody,” and noted that two of his crew have people up north they are calling every night. A county burn ban is in effect and printed in the Public Notices, where it is worded more formally than Sundberg’s version, which is: “don’t.”
In Brief · Elsewhere in No. 30
Second Avenue. Batches two and three pronounced “closer,” then “close.” The canvas stays on; the steam was bread. →
County fair. Entries close Saturday at noon. Noon, per Verna Tho, means noon — the pie and the story can both wait for next year. →
The season. The sweet corn is in — nine days behind 1976, which remains safe, and right on time, which is what matters. →
Municipal affairs. The good oak chair has been requisitioned by the fire hall six weeks early, citing “elevated operational tempo.” City hall has responded through Donna. →
The library. Forty-one readers, one room, three days. The building held, the beanbags rotated on a system, and the new ladder rung is in ink. →
Loon Ridge. The men’s league played nine instead of eighteen. Scores improved. No one is investigating. →
“A gate is infrastructure, not correspondence.”
— M. Aakre, on the letters page, minding the scale
The Smoke
Haze from the fires burning up north arrived Sunday evening and stayed. An air-quality advisory runs through Wednesday, the elders have been moved indoors with varying degrees of consent, and the sunsets are spectacular in a way no one feels entirely right about.
Read the full story →
The Hagen Pasture
The special meeting the board promised at the July hearing has a date, a room, and — per Chairman Ross Vig — “no intention of needing extra chairs twice.” Written comment is open through August 18.
Read the full story →The Old Co-op Creamery
The Holts pronounce batch two “closer” and batch three “close,” the covered sign enters its third week of not being looked at, and the fire chief makes a brief, bread-scented inspection.
Read the full story →County Fair
Two dollars, open class, no exceptions after twelve o’clock — “not even the good kind,” says fair board chair Verna Tho. The 4-H barn is at record enrollment and the pickle categories are, as usual, underestimated.
Read the full story →The Season
The stands are open on the county roads, the honor boxes are out, and the first ears came through the haze tasting, by universal report, like they always do. The Paulson stand opened Saturday morning; the reason it almost didn’t is on the Obituaries page.
Read the full story →Municipal Affairs
The chair that summers at city hall and winters at the fire hall has been requisitioned six weeks early. City hall has responded through channels, the channels being Donna.
Read the full story →The Fishing Report
Tim Brevik on a week when the lake disappeared from the middle out, the walleye carried on underneath it, and the evening bite moved to what several anglers described as a different planet.
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The Loons of Big Pelican
Thursday morning, in the haze, after a summer of practice and a runway measured in astonishment: the brave one got up, stayed up, turned once, and landed like a dropped duffel. The log has been updated.
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Post 162 Legion Baseball
The first game in anyone’s memory shortened for air quality ends as an official win, Lindholm goes the distance such as it was, and the one working light tower spends the evening wearing a halo.
Read the full story →Loon Ridge Men’s League
The Tuesday league shortened its round on the advisory’s advice, and the back nine — which is where several members traditionally encounter difficulty — went unplayed. Head pro Greg Mattson is being diplomatic.
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Our View
The smoke is not ours, the fires are not near, and the week was still hard on lungs, plans, and nerves. Some things a town can do about weather it did not order.
Read the full story →Letters to the Editor
M. Aakre of Loon Lake responds to recent correspondence concerning the width of a certain gate.
Read the full story →Letters to the Editor
A reader objects, briefly, to the week’s aesthetics.
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The Klatch · From Eunice
Eunice on a week of closed windows and open ovens: the anonymous squash converts to loaves, the loaves begin their own migration, and the Sorensens’ Saturday approaches with the whole town pretending it hasn’t bought a card yet.
Read the full story →Also on the Klatch page this week: The Recipe Box · Stars Over the Chain
Schools · Band Camp
The smoke relocated the last mornings indoors, the green-and-gold acoustics added what Director Moe calls “free reverb,” and the lawn concert is confirmed for Thursday, August 13, at 7 p.m., air permitting.
Read the full story →The Library
With the outdoors canceled, the record summer-reading class arrived all at once and stayed. Megan Tollefson kept the desk, the beanbags rotated on a system, and the animal-sticker ladder gained a rung in ink.
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Obituary
He built the stand on County 12 in 1966, priced a dozen at whatever was fair rounded down, and trusted the honor box because, he said, he knew where everybody lived. He died Tuesday. The stand opened Saturday, on time, because the corn was ready.
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