Lapeer Days
Everyone has a fond memory from childhood that can be triggered by the smallest thing. Sometimes it's a song, a phrase or the strongest of the triggers, smell. For me, there is nothing like the smells associated with a carnival like Lapeer Days that bring sweet memories of childhood flooding back to me.
While Josh and Don were attending the Cheeseburger Festival in Caseville, my brother Bruce and I decided to take in the sights, sounds...and smells of the Lapeer Days Festival that is held annually in downtown Lapeer, my hometown.
I'm generally not one to go to this festival. I've been there numerous times and every year it is always about the same, beer tent, a few live shows and the carnival rides. This year, however, I attended the event with a new perspective, as a reporter covering the event for The Blue Water Traveler. With camera in hand and a wide-eyed bit of innocence, Bruce and I walked the distance from my other brother JR's house where we had parked the car to mainstreet where the party was already going on.
Instantly the smells of elephant ears, popcorn, cotton candy, brats and other yummy thngs cooking on the grill overtook us. We were entering mainstreet downwind from all the vendors. The smells took me back to when I was about 5 years old when we lived in a little town called Piqua, OH. Every year on the Fourth of July weekend the town held a festival about a block from where we lived at Fountain Park. Fountain Park was where my sister Teresa and I hung out all of the time, but July 4th was the time that we anxiously awaited each year.
When the festival started, usually on a Friday, my sister and I would be gone the whole weekend, only coming home to eat supper and sleep. Even though we didn't have any money, we watched as other kids enjoyed the rides and the delcious foods. Every now and then, one of us would find a quarter (a lot of money back then), and we'd buy a funnel cake or elephant ear and share it. One year we actually found a whole dollar! Needless to say, we rode on every ride and played midway games until the dollar was gone.
Sometimes we'd walk to the big ampitheater and listen to the concert going on inside. We couldn't see who was playing because we didn't have the 5 dollars for the ticket, but we used our imaginations and had a great time just listening. Later that night, the sum total of our entire existance ocurred....fire works at the ball field. To us, it was shear bliss as we sat on the lawn and watched the show.
On Sunday morning, when the festival was over and the park was deserted, Teresa and I would make our way down around the midway and look for stuff. Sometimes we'd find money, other times we'd find little trinkets that people had won and then dropped and left behind for us to find. Times were good back then when we were five and six. For us, it was the big time...the main event of our little lives. We always had a sense of remorse as we sifted through the carnival debris before the mess was cleaned up later that day. We lived in that town for three years and I still look back fondly on those days. The festival continues annually to this day and several years ago, I was able to attend as an adult. It was great.
Lapeer is my home town now and the nostagia of those days keeps me warm and cozy like a blanket in winter, but no blanket was needed for this festival, as it was about 85 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. Bruce and I made our way through the crowd of people to the grand stand set up on the west end of main street. It was about 4 PM and the show was about to start. We didn't have to worry about the cost of a ticket as we did when we were kids. The admission was free. The king was about to start singing and we had front row seats. Darinn Hagel, local Elvis tribute artist hit the stage with typical Elvis flair. I am a big Elvis fan and this show was the reason I had come.
The show lasted about an hour and Bruce and I decided to check out other attractions at the festival, so we walked over to the midway. As we walked around another smell that I hadn't enjoyed in years hit my nostrils...horse manure. Yeah, yeah I know. It's hard to get excited about horse manure, but to me, it smells like home. There, in a little enclosed area was a pony ride exhibit. My favorite ride of all time was always the pony ride. When I would get up on the back of that mighty steed, I was a cowboy riding the pony express route through dangerous indian territory.
The mail had to get through. As I spurred my mount with invisible spurs, I'd yell "yee haw" and the the ponies would start walking around that little circle.
I stood there and watched the little kids with big smiles on their faces as they went round and round. I knew what they were thinking. Their smiles soon turned to tears when daddy had to get them off the ponies when the ride was over. That was me some 45 years ago. I wonder if I could....no, I'm too heavy now I'm sure...hmmm....
As Bruce and I walked back through the midway and home, I looked down. There at my feet was a quarter. I laughed silently, put the quarter in my pocket and never said a word about it til now. I think Bruce did notice the little grin on my face as we walked back to JR's. It was a good day.
From the back roads,
Tim Thornsberry
While Josh and Don were attending the Cheeseburger Festival in Caseville, my brother Bruce and I decided to take in the sights, sounds...and smells of the Lapeer Days Festival that is held annually in downtown Lapeer, my hometown.
I'm generally not one to go to this festival. I've been there numerous times and every year it is always about the same, beer tent, a few live shows and the carnival rides. This year, however, I attended the event with a new perspective, as a reporter covering the event for The Blue Water Traveler. With camera in hand and a wide-eyed bit of innocence, Bruce and I walked the distance from my other brother JR's house where we had parked the car to mainstreet where the party was already going on.Instantly the smells of elephant ears, popcorn, cotton candy, brats and other yummy thngs cooking on the grill overtook us. We were entering mainstreet downwind from all the vendors. The smells took me back to when I was about 5 years old when we lived in a little town called Piqua, OH. Every year on the Fourth of July weekend the town held a festival about a block from where we lived at Fountain Park. Fountain Park was where my sister Teresa and I hung out all of the time, but July 4th was the time that we anxiously awaited each year.
When the festival started, usually on a Friday, my sister and I would be gone the whole weekend, only coming home to eat supper and sleep. Even though we didn't have any money, we watched as other kids enjoyed the rides and the delcious foods. Every now and then, one of us would find a quarter (a lot of money back then), and we'd buy a funnel cake or elephant ear and share it. One year we actually found a whole dollar! Needless to say, we rode on every ride and played midway games until the dollar was gone.
Sometimes we'd walk to the big ampitheater and listen to the concert going on inside. We couldn't see who was playing because we didn't have the 5 dollars for the ticket, but we used our imaginations and had a great time just listening. Later that night, the sum total of our entire existance ocurred....fire works at the ball field. To us, it was shear bliss as we sat on the lawn and watched the show.On Sunday morning, when the festival was over and the park was deserted, Teresa and I would make our way down around the midway and look for stuff. Sometimes we'd find money, other times we'd find little trinkets that people had won and then dropped and left behind for us to find. Times were good back then when we were five and six. For us, it was the big time...the main event of our little lives. We always had a sense of remorse as we sifted through the carnival debris before the mess was cleaned up later that day. We lived in that town for three years and I still look back fondly on those days. The festival continues annually to this day and several years ago, I was able to attend as an adult. It was great.
Lapeer is my home town now and the nostagia of those days keeps me warm and cozy like a blanket in winter, but no blanket was needed for this festival, as it was about 85 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. Bruce and I made our way through the crowd of people to the grand stand set up on the west end of main street. It was about 4 PM and the show was about to start. We didn't have to worry about the cost of a ticket as we did when we were kids. The admission was free. The king was about to start singing and we had front row seats. Darinn Hagel, local Elvis tribute artist hit the stage with typical Elvis flair. I am a big Elvis fan and this show was the reason I had come. The show lasted about an hour and Bruce and I decided to check out other attractions at the festival, so we walked over to the midway. As we walked around another smell that I hadn't enjoyed in years hit my nostrils...horse manure. Yeah, yeah I know. It's hard to get excited about horse manure, but to me, it smells like home. There, in a little enclosed area was a pony ride exhibit. My favorite ride of all time was always the pony ride. When I would get up on the back of that mighty steed, I was a cowboy riding the pony express route through dangerous indian territory.
The mail had to get through. As I spurred my mount with invisible spurs, I'd yell "yee haw" and the the ponies would start walking around that little circle.I stood there and watched the little kids with big smiles on their faces as they went round and round. I knew what they were thinking. Their smiles soon turned to tears when daddy had to get them off the ponies when the ride was over. That was me some 45 years ago. I wonder if I could....no, I'm too heavy now I'm sure...hmmm....
As Bruce and I walked back through the midway and home, I looked down. There at my feet was a quarter. I laughed silently, put the quarter in my pocket and never said a word about it til now. I think Bruce did notice the little grin on my face as we walked back to JR's. It was a good day.
From the back roads,
Tim Thornsberry
