Parade and County Fair

     For a small town these were quite the events. People came from other towns, even friends and family from cities. It was pure small-town Americana and the highlight of the summer for kids in the 1950s.

The Parade

     Towns still have parades, but they don't seem as elaborate. Or, am I just remembering them through a kid's eyes? No, I don't think so.

     The main difference between then and now were the floats. They were elaborate examples of excess and waste (through my adult eyes), but I don't think anyone—least of all us kids—thought of them in such terms then. They were beautiful and somewhat magical. People on them threw candy to kids. Girls were dressed in formals and long gloves (how hot those must have been!), others in costumes befitting the float's theme.

     The excess was the result of the design and size. Most were built on a big flatbed truck or long, flat trailer, the kind used to haul huge equipment. Chicken wire was molded into a form (rural scene, waterfall, covered wagon, church, etc.) then stuffed with gazillions of colored paper napkins – all told, the town must have gone through truckloads of them. Hidden in large spaces, such as equipment shops, barns (near town, they couldn't be driven too far or too fast or all the napkins would blow out) or Quonset huts, it took a week or more to build each one. Part of the fun was keeping them hidden while the members of the given organization built them. Then, they'd be revealed the morning of the parade to oohs and aahs. What a nightmare if it rained or a wind storm arose, but I don't remember that ever happening. Prizes were awarded and the floats stayed on display for a while after the parade, then they were disassembled and big loads of napkins would be hauled to the dump (it wasn't called a landfill back then and recycling wasn't a word or concept yet). I doubt much of the chicken wire was reusable after being stretched and shaped either. It was rendered frustratingly unwieldy, but kids had no clue.   

My brother's Boy Scout troop (Note small float behind them)

 

Floats weren't the only things in the parade. The high school marching band (which often won top prizes in state competitions), Boy Scouts and American Legion drum and bugle corps marched. There were lots of horseback riders, and some kids decorated their dogs or brought pets in wagons. 

Nieces and nephew ready for parade in 1980s

      Others decorated their bikes, trikes or wagons and took part too, usually dressed in a costume. There was always a Grand Marshall and other dignitaries, often politicians, carried in the backs of convertibles. Not many people owned convertibles so they must have been on loan from the car dealers. 

     One wonders where all the creative ideas for floats and kids' costumes came from in that era before the internet, Google, Pinterest and all the electronic idea-sharing sources and photos. There were plenty, though, and it was great fun to see it all in one big festival of our own making.

  

There were so many in the parade it's amazing there were people left to watch it in this town of about 2,000 inhabitants.






  

 
The Fair

      You could find the fair with your eyes closed, just by the unique aroma: a combination of greasy hamburgers, cotton candy, manure and dill. And dust. Afternoon winds would always stir dust into the mix.

Every kid with a dollar in his pocket was in for a day of adventure, pop bottle in hand. Carnival rides and the 4-H barn kept most kids entertained until the rodeo started. As at events today, service organizations made money by selling food at booths - the ones where you could get a hamburger or chili to counteract all the sweet junk food.

My Dad & baby sis at the fair

      Adults and kids in Scouts, or who those had 4-H projects that didn't involve animals, had entries displayed in the Home Ec building, whence emanated the aroma of dill, displayed alone or in a floral arrangement. Ribbons were awarded – purple for grand prize, blue, red or white. No one could see the last-minute panic behind them to finish on time, short tempers of frustrated parents whose procrastinating kids were up late finishing their projects. Many a tear was shed. The swiftness with which that was all forgotten was determined by the color of the ribbon (if one appeared) sitting beside it at the fair in the following days. Promises and determination to start earlier next year were as fleeting as New Year's resolutions.

      The more disciplined adults entered beautiful needlework, picture-perfect loaves of bread, little jars of pastel jellies or large ones of colorful fruits or vegetables. Those were the most fascinating to me. How did they do that? And, equally impressive, they grew whatever was in the jar! About all I knew about canning at that point was learning from 4-H or home ec lectures that it would be very dangerous if you did it wrong. People could die from botulism. That made it all the more mysterious and impressive. Little did I know that I'd be doing lots of canning in the future.

      Who knew that decades later I'd be canning lots of home-grown produce every summer, but growing it too. I've never entered anything in the fair since I was a kid, but the thought does stroll across my mind almost every summer...