Still Serving

By Jake Lillehaug, September 20, 2026

Sunday morning started quietly on Big Mantrap Lake.

The sun was beginning to rise above the trees as we climbed into the boat for one last trip around the lake. The first signs of fall were already showing along the shoreline, with patches of bright red and orange leaves catching the morning light.

Somewhere across the water, a loon called.

Then another answered.

There are few sounds quite like the haunting call of a loon echoing across a quiet northern Minnesota lake. We had heard them throughout the weekend, especially around sunrise and sunset, their calls carrying across the water as the changing leaves seemed to glow in the fading light.

It was cool, mostly overcast, and certainly wasn’t shaping up to be the best fishing of the weekend.

But the fishing wasn’t really the point anymore.

For decades, my dad has made the trip north to chase muskies. The destination changed a few times before eventually settling on Big Mantrap Lake near Nevis. For roughly 25 years, it has become a familiar place, with many of those years spent staying at Fremont’s Point Resort. Traditionally, it was dad and my uncles. Two or three boats would head onto the lake, communicating with walkie-talkies while everyone searched for fish.

I tagged along a few times when I was young. After leaving the military, I started making the trip more regularly. As time passed and schedules changed, some years it became just dad and me.

This year, we changed things again.

We brought the family.

Suddenly there were kids riding in the boat, meals with a larger group and the usual evenings drinking coffee and playing cribbage. We even brought the dog.

We probably didn’t fish as hard as we once did, and we certainly didn’t catch as many fish. But watching my kids experience a place that has meant something to our family for decades made me realize something about traditions.

Keeping a tradition alive doesn’t necessarily mean keeping it the same.

I think that’s true of communities, too.

Our churches, fire departments, civic organizations, festivals and community events all have traditions worth preserving. But eventually, every tradition needs someone new to carry it forward.

That requires an invitation.

Let the young firefighter try something. Bring your kids to the community event. Invite the new member to help. Teach someone how things have traditionally been done, but give them enough room to add something of their own.

They may not do it exactly like you did.

That’s okay.

Someday my kids may make their own trip to Big Mantrap Lake. Maybe they’ll chase muskies. Maybe they’ll spend more time playing cards than fishing. Maybe they’ll bring their own children along.

Perhaps they’ll even hear that same haunting call of a loon echoing across the lake as the sun comes up.

The details aren’t what matter most.

  Traditions don’t survive because they never change.

They survive because someone cared enough to pass them on.