Me? I’m OK, must have just had something in my eye, I’m fine now, I was just remembering back to what used to be.
Yes, I remember the first time I ever drove through the sleepy little town of Annandale, back in the spring of 2000. I was awestruck by the quaint charm of a frontier town, true in looks, with its Old West style storefronts, historic Victorian Inn and towering grain elevator, with a beautiful mural of the town’s history depicted on its side. It was a splendid place that looked as if time had forgot it, but the pride of the people had not. Standing on Oak Avenue, in the midst of the wooden storefronts, you could gaze down one end of the street to a serene view of the lake and back the other direction at that huge town mural. It was a town with a character and spirit all its own. A place that made me feel right at home, maybe it was some connection to my past roots or maybe it was the people, all I knew was, “I liked this place.”
The amazing thing about it was, I hadn’t even discovered the real treasure until I was on my way out of town. There, hidden on the south side of the highway, was a dirt road that beckoned me to walk through time and into the lives of our forefathers, a place that was our past, our history and our heritage, it was called Pioneer Park. As I walked down the boardwalk of the turn of the century Main Street, I paused to peer into the windows of each building; they were complete, authentic in detail and each with a story of its own to tell. I rounded the livery stable and headed back on the other side of the street, the hair on my neck stood up as I strolled past the morticians to the General Store, where I could almost hear the conversations of the people inside stocking up on provisions for the homestead. Walking on, I saw the depot, church, schoolhouse, log cabins, barn and all the other buildings. It was an amazing place, an entire village resurrected from days gone by, and it was right here on this very spot.
I know it’s hard to believe, but not that long ago that’s what used to be here, that is until the place lost its direction, its support and its reason to continue. Seems the small group of volunteers just couldn’t keep up with all the work, some moved down south, some had health problems and the few that were left just burned themselves out of energy. Plus, they lost their grant and never got another one; the townspeople got tired of always getting asked for money and the fact that it was located on the edge of town made it easy for it to be ignored and forgotten. After a few years of neglect the buildings started to rot, leaky roofs collapsed, vandals destroyed what was left because no one cared any more, so the town decided to raze the whole place in the name of progress and put this here. Funny though, it still bears part of its original name, Pioneer Trailer Park.
Odd how some big corporation, that’s not even from Minnesota, owns it now. I reckon that not too many people give a damn about our past any more, well except for me. It’s been nice talking to you, thanks for listening to an old fool who once had a dream. A dream about preserving the past and teaching our children about the folks that settled this land and worked it with their hands. I guess those dreams are just dust in the wind nowadays. Got to go, I think I must have some of that dust in my eye again.
Dan Abrahamson, Clear Lake, is an active volunteer at Minnesota Pioneer Park. Abrahamson was one of the escorts dressed in period clothing at the Miss Annandale Stlye Show and Luncheon held recently. This article first appeared in Minnesota Pioneer Park’s monthly newsletter.
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