In a minute, we'll have the semifinals of the women's logrolling event, but first, for any out-of-state visitors here this afternoon, welcome to Minnesota, the North Star State, world renowned as the home of that greatest lumberjack of them all, Paul Bunyan, and of course his big blue ox, Babe. Paul and Babe couldn't make it here today, but on their behalf, we welcome you to our beautiful city of Bemidji and the Paul Bunyan Festival." Logan Baxter threaded his weary way along the front of the bleachers, tugged along by two small sets of hands decidedly sticky from cotton candy and candy apples. Eleven year old Liz and her twin brother, Alexander, steered Logan toward an empty space on the bleachers only yards away from the burling pool. "Why did he say that, Uncle Logan? Everybody knows Paul Bunyan and that stupid ox aren't real, don't they? My teacher says that's what called a myth," Liz pronounced, tossing a long chestnut braid over her shoulder and pursing her lips primly. The bearded figure of a six foot tall clown in a blue housedress, bosom suitably padded and stockings covering hairy calves, began to scale an upright pole set up beyond the pool.
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