The Russo-Germans know the holiday simply as "the July," and in a good year it is an occasion for new clothes for the entire family, commonly designated "July dresses" and "July suits."
Conviviality often joins with practical necessity to provide social occasions for North Dakotans. Butchering, sausage making, soap making, quilting, threshing, burials, illness, all furnish opportunity for friends to meet and visit while performing some deed of necessity or kindness. The farmer who is ill during sowing time will often have his crop put in by his neighbors, and he may be called on in the fall to help harvest for the recently bereaved widow of one of his friends. The neighbor who has lost his home by fire or has had some other misfortune will probably be given a "make-glad" party, at which he will receive gifts in kind and perhaps in money. After harvest, when there is straw to be burned, the young people of the locality will hold strawstack parties, roasting wieners and marshmallows as the burning stacks light the autumn night with their red gleam.
Sometimes, with the coming of dusk on winter evenings, bobsleighs slide away from darkened country homes, filled with all the members of the family, from grandparents down to babies. Often the sleigh will pick up additional passengers at a nearby homestead, and sometimes it becomes so crowded that there is scarcely room for the boxes of sandwiches, carefully wrapped cakes, and jars of pickles among the shuffling feet and heated rocks and bricks in the bottom of the sleigh. The singing creak of the sleigh runners accompanies songs that boom out on the night air. Presently a number of sleighs reach an appointed home, but they do not pause long. Across the fields the light of a farmhouse window offers a prelude to their welcome. They become studiously quiet until they reach the door, then burst in with shouts of "Surprise!" There follows a confusion of greetings and commands:
"Get a lantern."
"Put your horses in the east stall. John, show Henry where to put his horses, and—hey, John, turn Jip and Molly out to make room for Millers' team."
"Bring in them sandwiches I brought, Helen."
"Oh, heavens, you knew all about it—you're all dressed up and ready for us. With the country line it ain't possible to surprise anyone."
(Even where there is no country telephone line, it is considered something of a feat to catch the unsuspecting host or hostess napping. Yet all North Dakotans like surprise parties, and have them on birthdays, wedding anniversaries, and every other plausible occasion.)
The farmhouse is converted into a dual-purpose hall. The accordion is placed near the stove to "thaw out," wraps are deposited in corners, on chairs, and on beds, except the one reserved for the babies. Tables, the drophead sewing machine, and everything else that will serve the purpose are arranged for card playing. One room is cleared for dancing. After the first spurt of conversation lags, the musician takes his instrument on his knee, the floor is sprinkled with corn meal or grated paraffin, and soon the house is shaking from studding to rafter. Someone suggests a quadrille, or square dance, and the room resounds with the calls:
"First two gents cross over
And leave your lady stand,
Side two gents cross over,
And take her by the hand.
Salute your corner lady,
Salute your partners all,
Swing the corner lady,
And promenade round the hall."