Festival Memories
I love a parade. I especially love our homegrown, full of fire trucks and pageant queens parades. Add a festival into the mix and the Stites family is all on board. In almost 26 years of living here, I have missed only one parade. In 1999, I decided it was too hot for my pregnant self to sit outside that long and I enjoyed the parade on television, from the comfort of my air conditioning. I have never skipped a festival — the food, music, and vendors just lure me in. This year would have been the first year that Jeffrey could have spent a lot of time with us, enjoying all the festival fun. At his previous job, it was his busiest time of year, and we only got to take him around at night or on weekends. This year, he could legitimately have called going to the festival work, and we would have had a great time. But there’s always next year, right?
Since we’re not having the live festival this year, I thought I’d share some of my memories from previous years.
I was fortunate enough to work as a reporter at The State Port Pilot, and it was a lot of fun during the festival. Well, maybe not that year there was accordion music wafting up from the stage by the river while I was trying to write. Otherwise, lots of us enjoyed it. We used to take turns “checking on the festival.” It was the biggest story in town, literally happening all around us, so of course we had to go see what was going on. And if checking on things included bringing back a funnel cake for your cubicle mates, that was just an added bonus. A few years, all of us Pilot kid reporters/section editors descended upon the Friends of the Library Book Sale. We went on the first day, which I think was supposed to be for members. I am not sure that any of us were actually members, but no one seemed to mind. We were newspaper people — of course we wanted to buy books.
When our son John was a toddler, Jeff and I were still active in the Jaycees. During the festival, we got to do a variety of Important Festival Duties. Mostly, we were volun-told to help out at the parade and do whatever the Chamber needed us to do, which was fine with us. One year, that meant Audra Rickman and I were stationed at the end of the parade. We were supposed to keep people marching and the floats rolling until they got past the nursing home, so the patients could see them. By the time the parade got to that point, however, it kind of fell apart and no one was listening to us. We ended up recruiting a Southport police officer everyone knew, and then things went much more smoothly. Another year, I was charged with lining up the dignitaries. I helped them attach signs to convertibles and then they wandered off to enjoy the festival before the parade stepped off. I was left to wander among the shade trees and enjoy the spectacle happening in the next block. Adrian Iapalucci was supposed to be lining up the Shriners. You know, the guys with all the cute little cars they drive in formation? Adrian had a clipboard and a list, and tried valiantly to sort the Shriners into their appropriate spots. But they were having none of it. Finally, one of the more experienced Shriners told an exasperated Adrian that they had been lining up for that parade since before he was born and that they knew where and when to go. And they did. Left to their own devices, they fell in just when they were supposed to. We also had a hot dog stand for the Jaycees a couple of years, I think. One year, we borrowed a dunking tank. The booth was very popular and it was a great fundraising year. For some reason, our spot was right in front of the jewelry store on the corner of Howe and Moore Streets. Whenever a ball went wide of the target and hit the store’s brick facade, it set the alarm off. After he had to reset the alarm several times, the store owner finally turned the alarm off, at least while we were there. He ended up just asking us to not break anything and left us alone. I was a little nervous when a Scandinavian baseball player who could throw at least a 70-mph fastball came by. He stood in the middle of the road, though, still hit the target, and the windows were safe! Whew!
John, meanwhile, was also enjoying the parade. His grandparents were usually in town, and they took John to the parade while I helped out. Once John joined scouts, he began riding in the parade, and then I watched from the sidelines. When he was in high school, he was a South Brunswick High School Marching Cougar, and I got a little shiver up my spine when he marched by playing patriotic music.
I never stayed in the same spot for parade watching, so I have seen it with a variety of friends and family members and in different locations. One of my favorite spots was the lawn of St. Phillip’s Episcopal Church on Moore Street. I sat with my friend Elie Erickson. Her Dad, Jonathan Richmond, was in the men’s club, and they sold hot dogs. We put our chairs under the shade of one of those huge oaks, no longer needing to sit right up front and wave to our children. We were next to the coolers the men stored soft drinks in. They changed out who was working where as volunteers came and went, but I kept my spot. Before too long, I learned which cooler had the colas and which had waters, etc., and I helped out by directing the newbies to the right cooler. It was just the most relaxing time. It was a bit like being on a movie set — all the right colors and sounds, all the people in the parade or watching it — it’s no wonder Southport’s picturesque downtown has served as the backdrop for movie parades more than once.
Last year, I wasn’t sure I wanted to go to the parade, or even the festival. I wasn’t sure I wanted to fight the heat or the crowds. John talked me into it, and I am so glad he did. He even played the guilt card, saying it was the last time he knew for sure that he would be home for the 4th. How could I refuse? We had a great time. That young man of ours — he has a good heart. And he has had to put up with a lot over the years. I’ve been writing about that kid and sharing stories about him since he was a 4-year-old about to start Kindergarten, and he’ll be 21 this year. I know he’s disappointed that we won’t get to shop in the park (well, maybe he won’t miss that so much), eat festival food and cheer on the marching band. But this mama is glad he’s coming home anyway. My festival experience has changed over the years, and that’s okay. That’s what life is, a series of transitions. I know we’ll still enjoy our time together around the 4th this year, talking and laughing about the fun we’ve had in years past, and making new memories we’ll cherish in the years to come
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