View From a Prairie Home

by Hege Hernfindahl, Columnist

After we got our cabin thirty years ago, it became a natural gathering spot for our family. And when our children all got married and moved away, they would always return around the Fourth, so it became our designated family reunion.

Our eight grandchildren, who were born in five years, have always been close. And they have always been together at the cabin on the Fourth. When they were little, the highlight of the day would be the water balloon fight. We would venture together into the lake, careful and always aware that all eight was accounted for at all times.

As they grew older, more secure in the water and able to swim, they spent all day in the water. From our neighbors we inherited a water trampoline which was used until it fell apart and then we got one of those lily pads where there were endless hours of water gun fights. There were kayaking and paddle boarding. We also went boating with the kids on inner tubes and after a while they were old enough to waterski.

On Lake Koronis there are three islands. One of the islands is a county park with trails and even a fast-food place on a boat, called Kafe Koronis, which docks there on summer weekends. When the kids were all teens, we would play a game called “capture the flag” (instigated by Erland) where we divide into teams, have an imaginary line in the middle of the island, and run and sneak around trying to find the homemade flag of the opposing team without being found out and brought to “jail.”

At night there are fireworks from “First Island” and some of us would go out in the boat to watch the fireworks while other would prefer to watch form the comfort of the cabin.

Even when Erland moved to Brussels to become the top trade diplomat for the U.S., he would take time from his busy schedule to come with his family for our Fourth of July celebration. It was around that time, two years ago now, that he was told that his cancer had metastasized and there was nothing they could do for him anymore at Mayo. Patrick had died two years previously, so our family gatherings had been subdued. And our Fourth in 2022 was somber. I don’t even remember what we did. But I do know we took pictures. Our tradition had been to take family pictures on the Fourth, but since Patrick’s death, we couldn’t bear taking family pictures without him. But now, we knew, although I steadfastly refused to believe it, that our time with Erland was limited, so we took many pictures, even silly ones, which had been a tradition since the grandchildren were small.

I honestly don’t remember what we did in ‘23, but I know I dreaded the Fourth this year. More than any holiday, this was a time where fun was instigated by Patrick and Erland. I didn’t even send anybody any texts asking them to come; I just thought whatever would happen, it would be a hard day to get through. Besides, it was supposed to be rainy.

But then came the miracles. They started to trickle in the day before, my dearest grandchildren (who now all drive and have their own cars) and by the Fourth, they were all there. My grandson, Aaron, helping me wash dishes after a meal where we had laughed and kidded each other and sung. He said,  “You didn’t have to worry, farmor, you have legions of grandchildren and we will always be there for you.” And then he kissed the top of my head.