A boat parade that “never happened” taught me what Alpena is really about
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I’m going to warn you right away: this may seem a little sappy.
I don’t apologize for that. I’m an emotional person, and I’ve come to view that as one of my strengths. My emotions are closely tied to my passions, and over the last four years, one of those passions has become Alpena. Oddly enough, that realization came because of a canceled boat parade.
But before I explain, a little context.
My husband, Kevin, and I moved to the Alpena area in 2022. We didn’t know a single person. In fact, I had never even visited the area before deciding to move here. I was working remotely at the time, which meant there were no built-in opportunities to meet people through work. Starting over in a new place can be intimidating. Making friends as an adult is hard. Building a sense of belonging is hard.
Despite all of that, we were excited. We saw promise in this community and looked forward to putting down roots in a town that felt welcoming, beautiful, and full of potential.
Fast forward four years, and I can honestly say I have never felt more at home than I did after a boat parade that "never happened."
This month marks my one-year anniversary as President and CEO of the Alpena Area Chamber of Commerce. What a year it has been.
The Chamber world was new to me. Alpena was still relatively new to me. During my first year, I spent a great deal of time listening and learning. The Chamber exists to support and represent the business community, and when I first stepped into the role, I wasn’t entirely sure what that voice should sound like. Over the last twelve months, I’ve met countless business owners, nonprofit leaders, community advocates, and residents who care deeply about this place. I’ve learned that Alpena is a community that values tradition but is also eager to embrace new ideas. It takes pride in its history while continually looking toward the future.
Being entrusted with helping tell that story is both an honor and a privilege.
Now, back to the boat parade.
Saturday, August 22, was supposed to be the inaugural Thunder Bay Maritime Festival Venetian Night Lighted Boat Parade. I was excited not only because it was a fun community event, but because it was one of the first major Chamber initiatives that I had the opportunity to help lead from start to finish.
I will also admit something: I am not much of a “boat person.” Despite being married to a harbor master, my boating expertise is limited. If you ask me about engines, navigation equipment, or boat maintenance, I will happily direct you to someone far more qualified.
What I do know is that people were excited.
As the week went on, I checked the weather forecast obsessively. The day of the parade was no different. Throughout the afternoon, the forecast kept suggesting things would clear up by event time. We were in constant communication with the Thunder Bay Maritime Festival team. Forecasts looked encouraging. Experienced weather professionals felt optimistic.
Then they didn’t.
Around 6:45 p.m., just before the event, the storm rolled in. Thunder. Lightning. Heavy rain. Stronger winds. Forecasts shifted dramatically.
Earlier that evening, boat captains had gathered for a mandatory safety meeting where we reviewed procedures, expectations, and emergency protocols. As conditions deteriorated, the festival team and captains came to the same conclusion: canceling the parade was the right decision.
I like to think I’m fairly good at solving problems, but Mother Nature has a way of reminding us who is really in charge.
Safety had to come first.
Once the decision was made, we spread the word as quickly as possible on social media. Later, as several of us made our way to Water Street Commons, we saw families standing in the rain under umbrellas, children waiting along the riverfront, and community members hoping the weather might somehow change.
My heart sank.
This was an event that many people had looked forward to, and I felt the disappointment right alongside them.
Then something happened that I didn’t expect.
The rain eased. The clouds began to part. And for a brief moment, watching the weather improve after we had canceled almost made things worse. It felt like the universe was teasing us.
But then something truly magical happened.
Five of the participating boaters, who had invested countless hours decorating and lighting their vessels, decided on their own to give the people who had stayed a little bit of the experience they came for.
No one asked them to.
No one expected them to.
They simply fired up their engines, illuminated their boats, and cruised back and forth along the Thunder Bay River.
And it was beautiful.
Not because it was a perfect parade. It wasn’t.
Not because everything went according to plan. It certainly didn’t.
It was beautiful because it revealed something deeper about this community.
It showed the dedication of the boaters who wanted to share their hard work despite the circumstances. It showed the resilience of organizers who adapted when things didn’t go as planned. It showed the enthusiasm of families who waited patiently in uncertain weather. Most importantly, it showed the spirit of Alpena.
A community isn’t defined when everything goes right. It’s revealed when things go wrong.
That evening, watching illuminated boats glide across the river while people cheered from shore, I realized something important: Alpena is no longer simply where I live.
It’s home.