Tolkkinen: In-person fundraisers still hold sway in this small Minnesota town

UNDERWOOD, MINN. - Underwood is one of Minnesota’s smallest towns, with a population of 356, in the center of lake and farm country not far from our farm in central Minnesota.

So passersby might have wondered what all the commotion was on Sunday afternoon as the streets at the center of town were packed with parked cars, and still more people arriving and hurrying toward the fire hall.

I know I wondered, driving through, and I stopped, rolled the window down, and asked a friendly looking couple what was going on.

“It’s the Ty It Together fundraiser,” they told me. Last May, a husband and father of two young red-headed boys with his own contracting business had been killed falling off a roof in Fergus Falls. His name was Ty Petersen, owner of Ty It Together.

The couple said they didn’t know the family well, but they wanted to do what they could to help.

Well, we didn’t have anywhere special we had to be, so I parked and hauled my son along with me. The fire hall was packed, as was the area outside. One of Ty’s brothers sat on a dunk tank, and Ty’s little boys were throwing balls at the trip lever to send him swimming. There were bounce houses, and a long line waiting for pork chops and hot dogs. Someone pointed out Ty’s widow, a young woman who works at the hospital.

Inside the fire hall, so many people had donated items for the silent auction that they filled three long rows of tables and then some. You could bid on Twins tickets, an African safari, hand-made quilts, 50 pounds of hamburger, toy tractors and gift baskets.

A teacher volunteered as the DJ. A crew of seven women, most of whom have children who attend school with Ty’s kids, had organized the event.

It had the feel of a loving carnival, everyone having fun and united in a common purpose: To help this young family get through this devastating period of their lives.

It was something infinitely stronger, more tender and loving than a GoFundMe.

Don’t get me wrong. Online fundraisers have their usefulness. They’re a quick way to donate to a cause, a couple clicks and that’s it, $50 or $100 on its way to someone whose house burned or barn burned or has some other need. You can even add a message, and read notes other people have left, and spread the word via social media in hopes of prompting others to donate. Donating online is a good thing, and easy, and it certainly helps the recipient. But it feels somehow sterile, simply a transaction, and the feeling of connection is fleeting.

The memory of the day the town turned out to support your family will not fade so quickly.

You can’t do something like that online.

In-person assistance is hard. The seven women who organized the fundraiser have kids and jobs and had never put together a fundraiser before. Ty’s family does have a GoFundMe site, but Jensen and Link said people wanted to do more for them.

And the community was in a mood to give. Lines inched around the auction tables as people scratched down their bids. Some just dropped off checks. I wonder how many of them realized that they weren’t only helping Ty’s family. They were helping the whole community.

“This is what happens in a tragedy,” I told my son. “People come together. They support each other. Suppose someday you’re married with kids and something happens to you. Wouldn’t you like the community to help them?”

He listened quietly. The flip side of that, I said, is that we need to be ready to help, as we are able, when someone else needs it.

So it’s understandable to go that route.

But also, so gratifying when people are willing to organize an event where you can see each other’s faces and feel each other’s hugs.