indiana territory

A LOT OF FESTIVALS

I was looking at the morning paper and saw just how many festivals are going on this weekend alone, including Avilla Freedom Days. I don't remember there being that much of this sort of thing 20 years ago, but perhaps I simply was not paying attention.

Having parents who lived near Shipshewana while I was in Chicago and Cincinnati kept me up-to-date on what was going on there, but I didn't realize more and more small towns were getting together a food fest, parade, rides, etc.

I remember when we were in Cincinnati, our suburb of West Chester had a parade that went down the historic road that evolved from a Indian trail. Liberty Township had a Fourth of July parade and festival with tubs filled with ice and soda pop. The little enclave of Gano, where Mr. Scripps used to live before he went to California, had a get together that I think was centered at the Presbyterian Church in town. There was one way in and out of this village by car and it was via the railroad underpass.

I remember I found Gano by hiking down the creek that ran at the side of our property - this would have been in my examining Ohio Valley River geology and fossil rocks period - and coming upon an abandoned railway trestle. I followed it and wound up in what appeared to be a town from the past. I admit to having a Twilight Zone moment, and I think I decided I had explored enough for the day.

Of course, my favorite town doings was Something Days in Mason. It seems odd that I can't remember the name because that is where the editor thought I might wind up in trouble. I wrote sort of a tongue-in-cheek piece about the pressed chicken sandwiches at The Grange. She thought the ladies would be upset, but they chased her down and told her they had sold out of all their pressed chicken in record time.

I do remember those pressed chicken sandwiches, however. They were pretty dry and did tend to stick to the inside of my cheeks.

I am rambling here, so I will sign off . . . after I wonder about one more thing. I see signs about some fundraisers that say, "From 10 am to 2 pm or until porkburgers are gone." Now, I guess they mean if they sell out of the porkburgers, they will close before two, but I sometimes think of them staying there for days . . . until that last darn porkburger is sold.

"Hey, Frank, let's call old Bud . . . maybe, he'll come over and buy it."

"Nah, Earl, he had that spell with his stomach last March and the doctor won't let him eat anything spicier than Melba toast."

"Is that so? Boy, I'll bet he's fit to be tied. Say, maybe he'd buy it and give it to his dog?"

"Well, that's a thought"

"So, Frank, you gonna call him?"

"Well, I might. There's Lou, though, he won that porkburger eating contest down at St Howard's Church. He'd probably be able to put this last one away. Whatya think, Earl?"

"Maybe."

"Yep, maybe."

"Uh, Frank."

"Yep?"

"You know it's been two days since the ice melted in the cooler . . . Think it's still all right?"

"Come to think of it we could just throw it to the squirrels and tell everyone it was a donation to some homeless folk."

"Well, Frank, I think those squirrels have a home right there in that tree...."

"Don't fight me on this, Earl . . . "

posted by Jody @ 10:36 PM