Harrisville, Michigan. It could, in fact, be the smallest town (or village) in the great mitten state. But, what it lacks in size, it makes up for in heart.
This was the place my family used to go every Labor Day weekend. We’d pack up our pop-up camper, our smore ingredients, hot dogs, beach towels, chairs and dog, Buster, and head off from Maybury for the four-day weekend.
My allergies were always terrible. But, for whatever reason, I never seemed to care. Every year was always the same. It was a whole different world.
Labor Day weekend in Harrisville was commonly referred to as “Harmony Weekend.” Barbershoppers and Sweet Adelines (don’t worry, most people don’t know what these are…), along with their families, flocked by the hundreds to the state park just to be a part of one of the best weekends of the year.
People would sing like it was their job. In the morning. In the afternoon. In the evening. In the middle of the night. My dad’s quartet (whichever one he was singing with at the time) was always there, singing, laughing and entertaining us until we nodded off.
It was absolutely wonderful (although to some I’m sure it sounds a little crazy!).
Personally, I haven’t thought about it or been in quite some time. Nearly 10 years I imagine. But, when my mom randomly called me last night to tell me they were on their way up for Labor Day weekend this year, I must say, I was a little jealous.
I know things probably would be different now, now that I’m a little older. But, a large part of me can’t wait for the day I return to the quiet beaches, the boisterous campground, the delectable ice cream parlor and the beautiful harbor.
Man, oh man. What a great place to be.
Happy Labor Day Weekend!