The coming holiday week will bring a mixture of weather befitting a northern summer. Temperatures will remain near, or slightly below, the seasonal average. The Third and Fourth promise overcast skies, with a light rain likely on Independence Day itself. That should keep the dust down for the ball games. By next Thursday, however, expect stronger thunderstorms capable of bringing more than an inch of rain to the village, with heavier downpours in scattered parts of the county.
Naturally, the chief subject of conversation about town is the Fourth of July celebration. You may have noticed our ball club practicing on the harbor diamond. While I contribute more enthusiasm than skill, I believe we stand a fair chance of acquitting ourselves well against Tofte on Saturday and again on Sunday. Monday brings a contest with the Forest Rangers. Between the games there will be canoe races in the harbor, dancing at both The Wigwam and Happy Hour Hall, and, if rumor is to be trusted, Mrs. Schoen's famous hot chicken sandwiches served along Highway 1. If the weather should fail us, I have every confidence the dancing will continue regardless.
Elsewhere in the village, Mrs. Titus has opened a tea room across from the Arrowhead Hotel. Miss Fjell reports that the grand opening was a fine success and that conversation lingered well into the night and long after the teacups had emptied. Less happily, Andrew Larson lost his farmhouse to fire this week, though neighbors were relieved to learn that his wheelbarrow and harrow were saved. For the anglers, fifty-five cans of walleyed pike fry from the French River Hatchery have been planted in several area lakes, providing hope for many future suppers.
I have spent more time thinking about baseball than the weather this week, which is an occupational hazard I shall endeavor to correct. A ball club is rather like a town. Some swing harder than others, some run faster, and a few are forever chasing balls into the brush. Yet the game is played because everyone takes the field together.
Emerson once wrote, "But it is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them..." I believe he understood something about small communities. A fellow needn't play a perfect game to belong. It is enough that he shows up when the lineup is called.
Editors Note: The opening image from crayon, ~1846, by Hildreth or Johnston according to the Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson With Annotations Volume 5. The Emerson quote is found within that collection.