The annual Labor Day weekend in my hometown was very special. It served as the official end of summer. The day following the holiday, the hundreds of kids and young people who lived in our area would head off to school and another nine months of classroom drudgery.
But that weekend, starting on Friday evening, was one for celebration. It was an opportunity to get away from the house, to literally mingle with the crowds who attended the many events, and to share in the laughter and excitement.
In those days the two main streets of town – Sycamore and Maple – were closed off to vehicular traffic in the downtown area of the community. Although they were officially state highway routes, wooden barricades were emplaced, and the area roped off to pedestrian traffic only. (It wouldn’t be possible to get away with that now; the state highway folks would object strenuously).
All along the streets could be found various games of chance, booths with products for sale, great places to purchase snacks and treats. Kids and adults alike gathered around the ring-toss game, attempting to win one of the colorful wooden canes with the decorated heads by tossing a wooden ring over it. A huge wheel, with images of dice in various configurations generally stood on one of the street corners. The man running the game, as often as not was Wayne Henry, the local volunteer fire chief. He would entice folks to step up to the railing, and to place their bets on the various markings provided for that purpose. Coins and currency would be laid on the counter, Wayne would step to the wheel to give it a vigorous turn, and anticipation would be heavy in the air as the huge wheel went ‘round and ‘round. Eventually it would stop, and some lucky patron doubled or tripled his bet. Most however walked away, empty-handed to find some other avenue of entertainment.
There was a tent or sheltered area with tables and chairs, and a host of volunteers who scurried back and forth taking food orders from patrons. There were thick slices of luscious fresh-baked fruit pies, still warm with juices oozing out of the crusts. Apple, cherry, peach, berry, lemon, and even rhubarb pies were available for purchase. There were also inviting slices of cakes – chocolate, white, yellow, marbled, each with thick layers of icing and cream fillings. To top it all off, there were canisters of home-made ice cream – vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry – just waiting to be dipped and served. Nothing tasted better than a slab of white cake with rich, creamy icing, covered with hand-packed, homemade vanilla ice cream! Needless to say, the area was one of the favorite parts of the weekend’s festivities.
The Loveland cousins, Ronnie and Kelly, would bring their home-built go-carts to the festival. They would set up their concession on one of the pedestrian paths, and charge kids and adults alike for the privilege of driving their speedy, plywood constructed, gas powered cars up and down the street.
One of the old fire engines would be pulled out of the garage where it was stored, and put into service as a static exhibit for kids to climb upon and over while exploring all of its many features. Once several kids and assembled, the old truck would be fired up and driven up and down the street, the bell clanging or the siren wailing its warning to “get out of the way!”
The Firemen fast-pitch softball team would generally play a game or double-header at the local ball park. These young adult-to-middle-age men were known throughout the state for their skill and expertise on the ball diamond. Back in the day, fast-pitch softball was one of the many sporting events enjoyed by the public. North Lewisburg was happy to host the Firemen, state-level champions.
Friends, family, and neighbors would gather in small groups at various places around the Festival grounds. Conversations ran rampant about the events of the past summer, the highlights of vacation trips, sons and daughters going off to college, and plans for the coming holiday season. There was a lot of hand-shaking, back-slapping, laughter and loud talk. There was bragging, and questioning, lying, and just plain nonsense. But, it was a fun time to gather and to renew acquaintances after the summer’s work and activities.
The old festival, now known as the Fall Festival, is still an on-going annual event in North Lewisburg. Highways 559 and 245 are no longer shut off with traffic rerouted to side streets. The downtown area is no longer reserved for the many, many activities which once bustled there. Most events and activities today have been relocated to the community ball park. The old, familiar faces of the townsfolk which used to make up the crowds have been replaced with younger faces. So very many of the “old folks” are gone – the years have taken their toll. New people, who have no real idea of the fun and games which used to be so vital a part of this community, stroll by the park to “see what is happening” primarily just to get out of the house and away from the television for a few minutes.
If we had a magical time machine, it would be fun to hop aboard, and to set the dials for a trip back to 1958, 1959, or 1960. It would be fun to hear the machine go through its process and to eventually transport us back to that simpler time. It would be fun to walk the area around the intersection of Maple and Sycamore Streets, to see the familiar faces, to hear the familiar voices and sounds, to smell the pies, cakes, ice tea and firecrackers. It would be fun to hear the barkers calling our attention to the games of chance or the special exhibits. It would be fun to experience all of these wonderful things, and to be a kid once again.
