“Summer afternoon---summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language.”----Henry James
Summer. When we were kids, it was the Holy Grail at the conclusion of an endless quest, a long and arduous trek through sleet and snow and the horrors of arithmetic, a steady climb over cold and windy hills in temperatures impervious to earmuffs and woolen mittens. And just when we thought we got a glimpse of it, that Summer on a shining hill, that consummate mirage, a fast descent into the dungeons of Lent, a cruel and sugarless season where unsmiling clerics slapped fireplace residues on your forehead and the weekly Stations of the Cross sapped your strength. We carried on, nonetheless, because we saw the end, we knew The Prize was worth waiting for. And then, inevitably, “It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” Maude Lovelace couldn’t have said it better.
The final day of school was like a great surrender. The nuns transmogrified into kindlier beings, shucking their winter cloaks and smiling up a storm. It never occurred to us then that they might be as happy to get rid of us as we were them. We leaped from the front steps of school and raced down the streets like rabid ex-prisoners suddenly freed from the bowels of Alcatraz, only a trifle offput that we were forfeiting some of our schoolmates until Fall. It was Summer! Time for baseball, trips to Salisbury Beach, Fourth of July fireworks, romps with our friends, endless days of light and opportunity. We were in full accord with the dictum of the reliable Charles Bowden: “Summer is always the best of what might be.” Let the watermelon-eating begin!
When we were kids, automobiles were more a privilege than a necessity, long-distance transportation was spotty and reserved for important visits to distant relatives. For us, there was no personal world outside New England. We marveled that the Red Sox made extravagant trips to exotic spots like Cleveland and Detroit and wondered what it must be like in these foreign lands. Instead of gigantic concerts and festivals, our celebrations were limited to the occasional neighborhood block party, which we kids saw as The Greatest Show on Earth with its boisterous atmosphere and incomprehensible tables of free food. We were fascinated with free anything in those days and picked at the gratis goodies tentatively, certain that someone was about to rush over throw us out. Small local bands played and spiffy masters of ceremony bade girls and boys to dance to the music, a suggestion the remote cluster of terrified young males met with worried not-on-your-life expressions while the jaunty girls danced with each other. An end-to-the-day visit to Glennie’s drive-up (not in) ice-cream stand with a mind-numbing six windows was the delicious cap to a perfect day. They had, for God’s sake, twenty-eight flavors, and it was a matter of pride to eventually check out each of them before sensibly returning to the ever-dependable chocolate.
This Is Now
The simple life is gone, a product of what some misinformed individuals call “progress.” As jaded adults, we flap our fans and whine about the Summer heat, the awful humidity, the fleet of mosquitoes buzzing around our screened-in porches. There are few block parties now but there are far more vehicles and the modern roads give us access to festivals and celebrations unthought of in our youth. As the hawker cries, you can’t tell the players without a program so The Flying Pie herewith presents the current agenda. Bring us back a t-shirt.
Saturday, June 21: The RC & Moon Pie Festival in tiny Belt Buckle, Tennessee is coming up this weekend, so get the Chevy gassed up. Back in the Southern 1950s, Royal Crown Cola and Moon Pies were like love and marriage, you couldn’t have one without the other---especially with each going for a mere nickel. “Historic Belt Buckle,” as the locals like to call it, remembers those days with a big bash including the usual 5K and 10K runs, the wildly popular Moon Pie Parade, the coronation of a king and queen and the daffy latter-day contests involving balancing an RC can on one’s noggin while speed-walking and eating a Moon Pie. The delights culminate at the end of the day when the World’s Largest Moon Pie is served up to hungry visitors under our favorite banner ever---“LET THEM EAT PIE!” Who could ask for anything more?
Saturday, June 21: The Okie Noodling Tournament, always a big hit, arrives in Paul’s Valley, Oklahoma. For the few who didn’t know, Noodling is the art of catching fish---usually catfish---with one’s bare hands, which can lead to an ouch or two. Then again, Paul’s Valley is doling out $4000 in cash and prizes and no professional noodlers are allowed. If Noodling is not your thing, which is unimaginable in these parts, you can enter the Watermelon Crawl, the Noodle Eating Bout or the Kids Catfish-Eating Competition. They also have a big Cornhole Tournament. Don’t blush, cornhole isn’t what it used to be.
Tuesday, June 26-29th: Time for the Luling Watermelon Thump in wee Luling, Texas, with its attendant rodeo, car show and seed-spitting contest. Nothing says Summer like watermelon and the supply is endless in Luling, where they eat them, judge them and even auction them off. If all the watermelon starts to bore you, you can meander off to the big parade, sit down in the beer garden, check out the food booths or mosey over to the Gospel Jubilee. Say WHAT???
Tuesday, July 3: Begins the annual UFO Festival in Roswell, New Mexico. You all know about this one, it’s a doozie with 20 guest speakers offering a series of lectures on the subject of the day, those tiny green men. Always anticipated is the spectacular costume contest, where you might see everybody from Spock to Chewbacca, and the fabulous UFO Festival Light Parade after dark. Don’t forget those educational events from NASA at the Goddard Planetarium where you can buy a lotto ticket for the Big Ride. Ticketholders will assemble outside the planetarium at midnight when an actual honest-to-god UFO swoops in, declares the winner and zips him off for a short visit to Rigel Kentaurus. Well, short by their standards.
Saturday, July 7: Nobody we know wants to miss the Underwater Music Festival on Florida’s world-famous Looe Key, even though the Rolling Stones had to beg off this year. We know what you’re thinking but it was wet at Woodstock, too, right, and look how we handled that. Mermaids will be available for free lap dances in the recesses of North America’s only living coral reef while the waterproof speakers pump out Ringo’s Octopus’ Garden and other nautical delights. By the way, did you know that sound travels 4.3 times faster under water? Popeye the Sailor Man will speak.
Friday, July 13-15: Did you miss the annual Running of the Bulls at Pamplona again? Us, too. No worries though, you can still make it to San Fermin in Nueva Orleans, which is almost as good. Or maybe even better. Instead of being chased through narrow streets by grouchy livestock, the NOLA version features speedy young ladies from roller derby leagues across the country, replete with horned helmets and plastic bats, looking to take out thousands of participating runners. Strap a pillow to your butt for added security.
Friday, August 3-5: You’ll be right at home when you visit Burlington, Vermont’s Festival of Fools, a laff-a-minnit celebration of silly stuff. It’s not often you get to see---all at the same time---hysterical performers like The Kif Kif Sisters, Just For Kicks and Alakazam, “The Human Knot.” Where else do you get three full days of acrobatic feats, circus acts and the exclusive art of busking, whatever that is? If you’ve ever been called a crazy fool, and we know you have, this is practically like homecoming for you.
Friday, August 10-11: The Tomato Art Fest, East Nashville, Tennessee. Ah, yes. This is the perfect opportunity for the millions of you out there who love to dress up as fruits and vegetables but are afraid to do it in Scranton. Last year, a whopping 60,000 turned out for the Bloody Mary Garden Party or to visit the exciting Art & Invention Gallery, which showcases over 300 tomato-inspired pieces of art. This year, the big Art Fest Parade is trying to break the world record for people dressed as carbohydrates, so pitch in and do your part. Free ketchup packets to one and all.
Saturday, September 15: Bugfest. If you never made it to the cast of Survivor, chances are your bug-eating days have been, alas, minimal. Good news---now you have another chance at Cafe Insecta during Raleigh, North Carolina’s one-of-a-kind Bugfest. Learn how to keep your own beehive. Attend a flea circus. Dress up like a giant ant from Them. It’s all good. Where else do you get to interact with prominent entomologists and learn about the fascinating world of bugs? The kids will love it. Okay, the boys will. You can even win a prize when you bring a mystery insect to the Stump the Experts Table. Oh, and don’t forget to turn those pockets inside out before doing the next batch of laundry.
Last and least, we can’t forget the Atlanta Fermentation Fest. It’s over now, and just as well. If you insist, you can attend the next one in late May of 2019. In case you’re wondering, and we certainly were, the AFT (motto: “It’s Fine Under The Brine.”) was created a couple of years ago “to grow awareness about fermentation and educate the community about the history and health benefits of traditional fermented foods.” So the kombucha mocktails will be flowing, the vegan cheeses will be plied on sourdough crackers and the cultured vegetables will be apparent. Fermentation professionals are encouraged to bring their own cultures for a culture-swap. Hmmn. Better keep an eye on these guys.
Vacation Time
Since you asked, Siobhan and Bill will be traveling west on the 12th of July, off to visit the exotic ports of Albuquerque, Santa Fe, Taos and Moab, the close neighbor of Arches and Canyonlands national parks. There will be balloon rides and boat trips and a vist to Ghost Ranch, the old stomping grounds of venerable artist Georgia O’Keeffe, a maverick if ever there was one. If any of our artist friends desire a small trinket from the O’Keeffe museum, send us a note at the address below and let us know where to ship it. And fear not, there will be three more Pies before then and a mere week of rerun. Summer starts today, so enjoy it. Take back your youth, do foolish things, but always carry your friendly neighborhood bail-bondsman’s card in your pocket. Be careful of odd sunburns on those nude beaches. And forget about the Moon Pies. They don’t taste as good as they used to.
That’s all, folks….
