Lake Leander

I don’t really recall how we got to Minnesota when I was in fourth or fifth grade. Did we fly into Minneapolis? I’m pretty sure we didn’t drive from California. Perhaps we flew into Duluth. In any case, the destination and goal was to visit Martie and Dave. I think they flew us out there.

My eldest sister, Martie, and her husband had made the decision to leave the Bay Area and move to the town where David grew up – Mountain Iron, Minnesota. There, Dave joined his father and brother in running the family business, “Vidmar Iron Works.”

I really had no concept of Minnesota at all - didn’t know what to expect. When we finally got to Martie and Dave’s, I remember the first impression of the warm and fun-loving extended family. I had never been a part of a large, close-knit family before. I had met Ben, Louise, and David’s brother, Bobby, at the wedding. They were nice and friendly there. But in their own element, out at the lake, they were the hub of a great social network.

The Vidmar’s little cabin didn’t look at all as I had expected. I thought perhaps a log cabin or an A-frame ski hut – like at home in the redwoods. No, I had forgotten who built this place: engineers who ran an Iron Works. The cabin was blue corrugated metal on the outside – with greater emphasis on function than form. On the inside, it was peaceful and cozy. More like a small house than a cabin.

Everything was vintage 1950’s. Louise kept the kitchen and everything in it polished. Embroidered dishtowels were crisp and white unlike the gray, stained ones we had back home. Sparkling Formica countertops and wood cabinets graced the kitchen, the first room one saw when entering the cabin. Then, onto the living room and porch and a view of the gorgeous Northwoods lake - Lake Leander.

Dave’s mother, Louise, was quiet and sweet – her eyes sparkled as she welcomed and invited us in. Ben was outgoing and exuberant – warm and friendly. Bobby, very, very tall and lanky, smiled and echoed their welcome. But once inside or out on the porch, the quiet did not last long. Uncles, aunts, and cousins arrived and made themselves at home, too - all of them included us in the fun. Silly jokes and animated conversation dominated the scene – “A little bit different than California -hey Karie?” asked Ben.

We played cards and took boat tours of the lake. We watched some crazy relatives do trick water-skiing – even barefoot skiiing. Over the week, David taught me how to ski. (No, this was not the summer I lost my swimsuit top while skiing...that would come years later, when it would be more humilating.) Uncle Joe let me be his partner at the favorite card game, “Smear.” We took on my mom and Ben – and they all let me think I was really good. (I believe, years later, I actually did catch on.) “We’ll outsmart them – hey, Karie?” Uncle Joe would say with a wink. Then we’d do everything short of outright cheating to get the bid.

On a Sunday afternoon, David and others pulled out accordions and played wonderful polkas. Uncle Joe’s wife, Auntie Ann, would work wonders in the kitchen with Louise. My sister, Martie, surprised us by fitting right in and playing hostess along with the best. We ate delicious food which was unlike anything I’d tasted before – I remember loving Polish sausage and potica, a wonderful Slovenian pastry that is sort of half baklava and half cinnamon bread, made from scratch. There were other delicacies, too – pasties (hearty, bland meat tarts) and blueberry desserts of all kinds. Ben took me blueberry picking – I had never seen so many wild blueberries or mosquitoes before in my life.

Then David arranged for a real once-in-a-lifetime fishing trip for our family. Mom and Dad and I went with Martie, Dave, and a friend of Dave’s in a boat with an outboard motor way up into the boundary waters. I believe this was before so much of the area became non-motorized as the BWCA. I had no idea one could travel so far on water that was neither an ocean nor a river. The network of enormous, beautiful lakes was awe-inspiring. I was not too interested in the fishing, but the adventure of the trip is something I’ll never forget.

Huge crystal blue lakes, some with densely wooded shorelines, some with gorgeous rocky outcrops and ancient Native glyphs. I loved the portages with their hiking paths across little islands. We’d watch our big heavy boat as it was towed on a conveyor-like track from one side of the island to the other. It reminded me a bit of a Disneyland ride. But the wildlife here was real – deer, moose, and birds of all kinds.

Then we got to Lac La Croix and the wonderful resort. David kept telling my Dad that we would really be “roughing it” on this trip. Instead, though, we found that the fly-in, boat-in resort had every amenity. We bought Canadian goods in the gift shop and ate delicious meals in the restaurant. My dad and I bought matching berets and hooded sweat shirts.

The next day, our fishing guide took us out to the best fishing holes in the area and we caught our fill of walleye and northern pike. Other people baited my hook and removed the fish, but I caught a 21-inch northern and was shocked. I have never had as good a fish lunch as we had over a fire that day, prepared by our guide. Fresh walleye, lightly breaded, pan fried, and little white potatoes that had come out of a can, I remember it vividly. Mmmmmmm...tasty.

I had no qualms about eating the fish but at the end of the long day, my dad wanted a picture of me holding the stringer of fish. He was bursting with pride. Due to my recently-acquired, delicate sense of care for all creatures, I begged not to hold the cruel instrument of the fish’s destruction. He insisted. I think I still have the photo of me in my Canadian beret, holding the stringer and crying hysterically.

But I got over it. At the end of the trip, my only negative impression was from the hundreds of black fly bites I received all along my scalp and hairline. I scratched myself raw.

Back at Lake Leander, we had another night and then would return to California. I had had the time of my life. Waterskiing, polkas, card games, Polish sausage, potica, and unparalleled hospitality from beginning to end. It left a real impression. And more warm and caring adults than I had ever met in one place at one time. “You’ll come back and see us again – hey, Karie?”

You bet I did. Later, there would be nephews and more cousins than I could keep track of. There would be a new generation of cabin stewards and a lot more waterskiing, followed by the Sauna. We’d play cribbage and Smear until we couldn’t see straight. But the hospitality and the friendly welcome were and are still the same. I’m still going back to Lake Leander...I rarely miss a summer.