
The Klatch
Memorial Day Program Moved Indoors, Then Back Out
A band, a breeze, and an unsettled sky produce the traditional shuffle.
Read the full story →
“Where the coffee’s hot, the lakes are cold, and all the children are above average.” — Serving the Chain since 1897.
Tuesday, May 26, 2026 · Memorial Day Week · Full weekly section page with current issue material, standing notices, and back-page items.

The Klatch
A band, a breeze, and an unsettled sky produce the traditional shuffle.
Read the full story →Eunice’s Notebook
Eunice says Memorial Day food should travel well: ham buns, potato salad kept cold, bars that do not crumble in the wind, and coffee in a pot large enough to suggest confidence.
This week’s note from the Daybreak: the waffle irons have recovered from Mother’s Day but remain under observation.
Rhubarb sauce over vanilla ice cream is acceptable breakfast if served after a cemetery program, according to three widows and no doctor.
Personals & Thanks
Living · Stars Over the Chain
As read by Sigrid Pelto, who has lived in Misquah her whole life — but for college, and the summer of 1995, when she and the girls did Europe on a rail pass and a woman in a Florence market took her hand and told her she had the gift. She reads from the end of her dock on Loon Lake.
Mercury’s still backward through the holiday, so things will get moved and misplaced and re-argued — that’s just the weather of it. But the Moon’s in a water sign, which opens people up, and that feels right for a remembering week. Be gentle with yourself, and with the ones who aren’t here. I find the lake helps.
The program got moved indoors, then out, then in again, and your week will go just the same. Mars says push, the backward Mercury says wait — so meet in the middle. Bring a folding chair and a little humor, and let the sky make up its mind for you.
They’re going to ask you onto the dock committee, and I’m begging you, gently — don’t. With Mercury backward it’ll take three meetings to undo one decision. You’ve got your peace. Keep it well away from the agenda.
Your planet’s still turned around, so the cooler’s contents will be disputed and your account of things won’t match the record. Don’t fight it. Some weeks the wise twin just shrugs and lets the misremembering run its course.
You’ll tend a grave or a garden this week, and with the Moon in your own element the two will feel like nearly the same thing. They are, in a way — both are how we keep the people we love. Keep them well, and if you cry in the daffodils, no one’s looking but me.
The track team placed and hollered about it the whole bus ride home, and you’d have hollered louder, don’t pretend otherwise. The Sun blesses your big noise. Just let the young ones have the volume this once — their win, your cheering.
That cooler turned up and you’ve already worked out whose it is. But with Mercury backward, saying so will only start a subcommittee. Tuck the truth away for now. Let the little mystery keep the town company a while; it’s harmless.
One light tower working, three dark, and they played the game anyhow — there’s a lesson in that for you. Balance was never about everything being lit up. It’s playing on in the half-dark, gracefully, which is the only way you’ve ever known how.
That cooler’s a mystery, and a mystery calls to you, especially with the backward planet sharpening your hunches. Let it lie. Not every splash needs a guilty party, and some of the deep things you read so well aren’t yours to bring up.
The open road’s calling, but there’s a trailer to haul and the morning’s already spoken for. The adventure will wait — it’s patient, which I know you are not. Get the chore done first; the highway clears for the ones who finish what they start.
Fourteen years now on the roof fund, and there you are again with your envelope. The roof remembers. So does the town, and so do I. Yours is the slow, quiet building that outlasts every ribbon-cutting — don’t think it goes unseen.
You’ll claim a buoy and pay the resort brochure no mind, same as the loons, same as you’ve always done. Good. The brochure was wrong about the both of you. A backward Mercury can’t muddle a sign that never read the directions to begin with.
It’s a heavy week for remembering, and with the Moon in water it’ll open you right up. Let it. The lake holds what we give it and hands back the light at dusk, every single evening, faithful as anything. Be out on the dock for that part. That’s the whole reason.