Chapter Eight Adler Oakes
It's been a while since I've addressed the town, but it never feels any more natural.
The mic squeals once when I pull it off the stand.
Somebody in the back hollers something helpful about that.
I wait it out, and the arena settles. There are maybe four hundred faces looking up at me in the flat morning light including all my brothers and my sister Jules.
So I figure now's as good a time as any to get started.
"I want to thank you all for coming out to our annual Lumberjack Days." My voice comes back at me off the far bleachers, a half beat behind. "It's an important one."
I let that sit.
"My father-in-law and mentor to so many of us, Carl Hunting, imagined what Lumberjack Lagoon could be.
He stood about where I'm standing and told a room of maybe forty people that this town was going to be something.
" I have to clear my throat. "I don't think even he knew his vision would come this far. When I look around I’m damn proud.
It's a legacy of love, community, and tradition.
And the funds we raise over the next three days are going to make sure we stay safe in the town he built. "
The crowd goes up. I take the moment and glance over at my wife.
She’s already teary eyed. Down front there's a boy on his father's shoulders with a paper flag.
Past him, the pit crew's already got smoke going.
Off to the left, Jules has the donation buckets stacked and a folding table staffed and ready to collect.
"This is my chance to say thank you to the best damn people in this country," I say, and I get the laugh I wanted.
"I see you. All of you. Some of the very best among us, our heroes, our volunteers, our lumberjacks.
" I raise a hand toward the judging platform.
"And of course, this year’s Lumberjack Lovers Thoran and Vivien.
If you see them, say hello. And not just because they're judging the contests. "
Another laugh, bigger. My brother Asher wolf-whistles.
"With that," I say, "let the games begin."
And in an instant, the whole place lets go.
I glance over. Thoran's got his hand at the small of Vivien’s back. He isn't looking at me or the crowd or anything else in this arena. Her boy is squeezed in beside them with a program rolled up in his fist.
Whatever other talents Jules has come second, the woman can pick a couple.
The energy coming off this crowd is a live thing. You can feel it up through the boards.
The log roll starts churning down at the water end. Two men windmill their arms while the pond throws light. The axes start up on the north side and that flat chock rolling across the lot every few seconds.
There are kids everywhere. Smoke, sawdust and the fry oil billow in the food tent.
I stand up there another minute and watch the money come out of pockets.
Twenties folded into buckets, kids feeding dollars in one at a time, Asher running a card reader off a cooler lid.
All those dollars going right back into this town.
Carl would have hated the speech. But he'd have loved this part.