The Aitkin Fish House Parade

I grew up in a small town called Aitkin. I could go into the history of the place: The man named Aitkin that ran the Company fur trading post, the fact that the area was originally a huge glacier lake that over time created hundreds of smaller lakes which makes this area a haven for fishing, summer tourists, etc..

About 7 miles south of Aitkin in an area once called Hickory Hill, my great grandfather, supposedly using his civil war pay off, came out from Somerset Wisconsin and bought this land. My grandfather and two other brothers had farms here. In the winter they could stand out side and shout at each other, the clear air carrying the sound. In spring, one would shout the french version of "the sap is running" and everyone would scurry out into the woods to "pick" sap.

I remember having huge outdoor picnics at my grandfather's sugar bush, to celebrate the end of the maple syrup season. Each of us would have our own miniature canoe paddle to dip into the boiling kettle, and then lick it off once the sticky syrup would cool. There would always be several types of dill pickles to eat to cut the sweet once you got sick of it. Then you could start all over. This final batch would be boiled down to make maple sugar candy. We still do this although the method of boiling the sap down has become more commercial and not many have time to spend doing this. It definitely is time consuming and not something you can just do on weekends. My cousin sells his syrup in grocery stores. It is good, but I miss that smoky taste of the old open kettle boiled syrup. And to eat the stuff you buy at the grocery store is like eating soy meat to me.

So, what do you do in the beginning of winter here, when there is no snow on the ground to snowmobile (which I actually hate because I think it tears up the country side too much), and the lakes aren't frozen so you can't ice fish? You have a fish house parade.

The Aitkin Fish House Parade is the Friday after Thanksgiving. Everyone for miles around flocks to town for the festivities. ( those of us who are more like summer people come up for the day). There are Chili cook offs at the American Legion, music, specials at most of the stores, in short there is something for everyone to enjoy.
The winter fashionistas are on parade too, with their sorrel boots, fur bomber hats, thick gloves, and winter coveralls.

I will warn you that this is not Macy's Holiday Parade. This is just down home clean fun. Even when they threw out the Mardi Gras beads, no one flashed. Could be because it was pretty cold and this is a churchy sort of town. This parade has been televised all over the globe at one time or another. So in this part of the world, it is famous.

Here are some pictures:







Once the festivities have ended, we wander until 5 p.m. because the local bank is serving free stew at the Legion. While we wait, we visit our family plot at the cemetery. There are two here, one across from the other. One is Catholic, and the other is all the other Christian religions. Silly, but that is how they did things in those days. Our family originally had it's private cemetery, complete with day old infants. When a new priest came into town, he balked at having to travel all over the county for funerals, so insisted all existing graves were moved into town. Our section is old as you can see by the photos below.





I go sometimes in early in the morning when everyone else is asleep. My grandparents: Henri and Florida are buried here, as is my father and some cousins. I sneak a bottle of my husband's beer, I try to keep the plaques tidy and cleared, and then I split that beer between my father and grandfather. Crazy? Well it gives me some comfort and some connection to these two that have gone before me. I have a rich French Canadian history that was nurtured by my grandparents and I hope to pass some of that on to my children.

Back to the Legion for stew. I snuck an extra piece of cake. It was delicious.
The long drive home (2 hours) gives me time to reflect, morn a little, and laugh at the day.
I can not wait till spring comes so that I can return to my little cabin on the prairie