Oooohhh yeah

Living in Atwood ("the Adorable", proclaims the stickered lettering added to the road sign attempting to alert those driving through that Atwood is more than a cluster of houses and a church on the side of a highway) has its ups and downs. For example, not many people can say they live here. So few people can claim residence, in fact, that the powers that be removed our town from the map a few years ago (presumably so others don't get jealous.) We can also claim the miniature roadside chapel, Friske's Farm Market and Rex Beach - author of one of the best selling novels of 1906 and silver medal- winning Olympic water polo player.

We named a road after him.

But a benefit of living in Atwood that I only recently discovered is its convenient location when it comes to attending the many, many festivals of Northern Michigan. This may not sound like that big of a deal, but let me assure you, it is. Every town - no matter how small - annually gets together to celebrate... something, and it's a huge part of summer.

Love bass? Try the Mancelona Bass Festival! Cherries? The National Cherry Festival in Traverse City. Are lilacs your thing? Mackinac Island has you covered. We've got the Boyne Falls Polish Festival, Alpenfest in Gaylord and Charlevoix's Venetian Festival. If you've got the itch to partake in all things patriotic the Freedom Festival in East Jordan will be right up your alley.

Oh, and my personal favorite: Morel Mushroom Festival in Boyne city. Those ugly, hard-to-find delicacies completely deserve their own weekend.

Even Atwood gets in on the action, although we team up with the slightly larger Ellsworth (complete with Post Office and three - count 'em, three - churches.) I usually avoid the Pig Roast weekend. Although my family tells me that there are plenty of games, parades and concessions to keep me busy, I'm too afraid I'll run into that huge, roasting pig. Yes, I'll admit it: I'm afraid of dead livestock. I'm positive they're going to suddenly come back to life and attack the cruel humans who revel in cooking them. Although as a vegetarian I'm probably exempt, better safe than sorry.

What is it about Northern Michigan that breeds so many three day homages to the obscure? I have a few theories:

1. We have nothing else to do. I mean, the lakes are great, but after a while even the sailboat starts feeling a little old. Festivals are a convenient excuse to bum around town, challenge your companions to contests of who will run into the most people they know (maybe that's just me), and show off your superior knowledge of the area to the many tourists sporting their "Up North" sweatshirts and the occasional fanny pack.

2. It allows us to take full advantage of those tourists. Once you've got them all decked out in T-shirts and full of Northern Michigan produce, you have to give them another way to keep occupied and avenue to spend their money. Carnival rides and lemonade stands work wonderfully.

3. We love fireworks. I actually find this reason the most compelling, based on the sheer number of fireworks displays that take place during the summer months. Every town has their own 4th of July display, but I guess that's not enough. I've discovered that you could go watch a show almost every weekend during the summer.

Last night Anna, Jenice and I met up with our friend Stacy to head to Harbor Days in Elk Rapids (voted #2 Festival by listeners of WTCM.) After buying our ice cream and meandering through the elephant ear stands and the Tilt-a-whirls, we found a spot on the harbor to watch the fireworks. As the sun set behind the sailboats, more and more happy little families with their matching t-shirts, khakis, blankets and cotton candy joined us. Oh tourist bliss.

It was all peaceful and good until a group of 50-something locals sat behind us, bringing a cooler and the too-loud voices that result from a night of drinking. At first I was annoyed by the man sitting a little too close to me, but as the fireworks began my irritation turned into amusement. With every firework came an exclamation; typically "Ooooh yeah" was uttered (with identical intonation each time), followed by either "That's a thumper" for big booming explosions, "Fire in the hole" for those that exploded lower in the sky, or "where are the 'shrooms?" for lingering, floating lights. He kept this up for the entire 30 minutes of the display.

I don't think the perfect little families were so thrilled about his regular and loud exclamations (I saw the mother next to me covering her little boy's ears on occasion) but Anna and I were reduced to giggles. I mean, what are festivals for if not public drunkenness? Yay Harbor Days.

Now THAT'S a thumper.


Disclaimer: Anna thinks I'm being too hard on my area. Northern Michigan, I love you. Don't be offended. I'd throw you a festival, but...