An Incredible Place Called Nimrod

Every year around this time, family members gather in an incredibly amazing place called Nimrod, Minnesota. Some travel from Las Vegas, Nevada. Some travel from The Cities (that would be Minneapolis and St. Paul, of course). Some travel from Keewatin. Some don’t even have to travel!

Some gather to hunt the White-Tailed Deer.

Some gather to share a meal. Some gather to share a beverage. Some gather just for a chance to get some hugs and kisses.

Even though it’s technically about the hunt, we all know it’s really all about family.

This is the place where my father grew up — it’s always been a small town with a great heart and a reputation for rowdy residents. But as a child, I knew that Nimrod was where Grandma lived and as we rounded the corner of the highway that leads into town, we would strain to look ahead and try to be the first one to shout out, “First to see Nimrod!”

I laugh now to think that being the first one to see the city limits sign was a HUGE deal to us kids. Joy!

Nimrod and Grandma’s house (which is now Auntie’s house) is set along the Crow Wing River which is a peaceful, ever-flowing tributary to the Mighty Mississippi. As we played in the water and sat on the shore and canoed and built forts and camps and hollered in the Crow Wing River, memories were stacking up in our hearts and we didn’t even know it.

Several generations of Frames, Hames and Sternbergs have lived out their lives in Nimrod, and a river flows through us as much as it flows under the Nimrod bridge and past Grandma’s house. I guess Mother Goose is just in replay mode this morning…

Wishing I was here today…