Elmer Ison pulled a wagon seating two young sons, Elmer II, 3½, and Liam, 2½, on the sunny, 70-degree afternoon. They were on a mission.
“Food,” said daddy as he gave the boys a spin around the B and O Railroad Parking Lot Friday.
At a two-day festival called Frühlingsfest, or Springfest, presented and promoted by the Seymour Knights of Columbus, the community embraced the season and a fresh whiff of freedom, basically going maskless.
Pleased by new Centers for Disease Control and Prevention guidelines and riding a wave of optimism that the COVID 19 pandemic is at least under control, if not beaten into submission, people turned out by the hundreds to eat, drink and be merry, Friday and Saturday.
They did so under sunny skies, senior citizens and teenagers alike, mothers pushing strollers, and whole families, too, the tribulations of the last year seemingly sidelined. Visitors did not sit or stand a socially distanced six feet apart and that was part of the point. They could.
No one was happier than Dave Eggers, K of C treasurer and active planner of this festival. Reports from the federal government, state government and health departments are upbeat.
“Absolutely,” Eggers said as he gazed around at the burgeoning crowd, one that followed Ison’s game plan, indulging stomachs and shopping tendencies at craft booths. “It’s the right time.”
There was much to appeal to varied palates, from pork to sausage, pizza to egg rolls, popcorn to fries, ice cream to burgers. This was the type of menu that is a staple of state and county fairs, pretty much all of which were called off in 2020 because of the coronavirus. That left the public with an appetite for these goodies.
Seymour’s Christie Busby confessed that the main reason she brought son Braylon, 9, to the festival was the food, and her favorite at Bob and Kev’s BBQ.
“We’re here for the pork parfait,” she said, raving about the barbecue and mashed potato mix that takes after the frozen dessert version of a parfait.
It may be a mixed metaphor, or recipe, but the Dudleytown Conservation Club sold fish sandwiches as if they were hot cakes. There seemed to be irony involved in the group’s fare since their reason for existence is built around taking good care of fish at their pond, from crappie to bluegill to catfish.
Watching the sandwiches fly over the counter, club spokesman Mike Schepman said, “Those fish have given their lives for this. They made the ultimate sacrifice.”
Sort of. The fish sold was Alaskan pollock and they traveled to Seymour from a much longer distance than the home two-acre pond.
Money raised from hungry festival attendees fund projects that conserve the environment by the 40-or-so club members. If the cry of “Fish on!” went up it was not announcing a catch, but a fish on a bun.
There were no carnival-type games, but there was some bean-bag action. Brothers Colin and Mason Patterson had a rousing contest going although neither claimed expertise at the game, having rarely played it before.
They did have the appropriate underhand tossing motion going as they sought to drop a bean bag into a hole in a sloping board of wood.
Colin, 11, said he was intrigued “by the concept” Mason said, “It’s not like any other sport.”
For the most part the Pattersons got more exercise than most others who made walking loops around the parking lot to study menu options. At almost all times the longest line for refreshment was the beer line. Beer was $4 a cup and no one was complaining.
All of this played out against a backdrop of music played by local artists. There was country, rock and roll, and even Irish bagpipes offered up with groups taking turns on a stage set up at one end of the parking lot.
Rob Daugherty was billed as a solo act in late afternoon Friday, but brought along guitarist Kevin Batt from their Off The Hook group. People settled into chairs, munched on their goodies, and then stayed stationary to listen to the tunes as the weather stayed mild throughout.
“You can’t ask for much nicer than this,” Batt said.
Pandemic or not, rock and roll is here to stay. Or at least back, being played live in front of people.
Craft-booth artisans were pleased to have their wares exposed to fresh faces again. Seymour sisters Adrienne Marshall and Abby Benoit design T-shirts, colorful tumblers and drinking bottles.
At the festival they had a display going of T-shirts in sealed bags for $12 apiece that were labeled “Mystery” tees. That meant a buyer would not read the shirt in advance, a somewhat risky proposition. But they have a loyal clientele.
Brandy Thurston is a regular customer and had faith that no matter what was hiding in the bag would be OK with her, so she bought one of the secret packages.
“I love their T-shirts,” she said. She chose a tee that gave the clue that the lettering had something to do with Mom Life. Good enough for her since she is a mother.
Bridget Anderson of Brownstown was similarly trusting. Another T-shirt purchaser from the siblings, she also indulged in a mystery shirt with no fear.
“It’s fun,” Anderson said. Like Thurston’s, the basic coloring was blue, and the design appealed to the new owner. “Super cute. They do amazing every time.”
Nearby, Amanda McCall displayed her woodworking of images from photographs or drawings burnt into the birch from her Brownstown business “Amanda’s Tinytown Pyrography.” What began as an experiment became a serious gig about three years ago as McCall learned more about her craft and gained regular followers. Sometimes they buy images of the famous, or seek custom-made images of people they know, often for gifts.
“Mother’s Day is big,” she said. “Christmas is big.”
McCall’s pictures provide a personal touch, with her as the conduit of something unusual from someone who cares. Those are requests. One handy example in the booth was of a guy holding a big fish that he caught. There were some pictures of John Wayne, too. Why him?
“He’s the Duke,” McCall said. “I watch John Wayne movies.” Why certain animals? “I like horses.” Why motorcycle scenes? “I have a lot of friends who are bikers.” Along with John Wayne there is a solid demand for Marilyn Monroe, another American cinematic icon.
McCall was happy to see people out and actually mingling after so long being prisoners in their houses and their normal movements restricted.
“Everybody had cabin fever,” McCall said.
She actually made a sale to someone from Pennsylvania having the item shipped.
While most activity was light-hearted, the Veterans of Foreign Wars booth was about raising money to supplement its fund for veterans who need assistance. The group did so by selling poppies.
The origin of the poppy as a meaningful symbol of remembrance for veterans dates to World War I and stems from a poem written by Canadian John McCrae named “In Flanders Fields.” The first line reads “In Flanders Fields, The Poppies Blow.” It was written following trench warfare in Belgium.
Poppies are worn as remembrances in many British Commonwealth countries on Nov. 11, the American Veterans Day. The U.S. VFW began selling what is called a “Buddy” Poppy in 1922 as a fund-raiser for charitable causes. About 10 million of the poppies are sold annually and about $12 million is raised by through their distribution.
VFW Post Auxiliary 1925 of Seymour had a plastic bin of poppies available during the festival and the booth was manned by group officials. John Pershing, who said he is second cousin to the famed American general of that name in World War I, is currently president. Scott Sandlin is the incoming president.
To remind the public the story behind the poppy, the VFW supplied brochures explaining the history to people who donated.
“A field of poppies, you don’t see them much anymore,” Sandlin said.
Karen Hodges of Reddington said she had only recently bought a poppy to support the VFW and had it in her car, but did not know the background. She bought another and was happy to receive the brochure.
“I think it’s good work,” Hodges said of supporting the sales and added a comment to the men, “Thank you for your service.”
Hodges endured a bout with the virus and this was her coming out without a mask.
“I feel a little bit more comfortable,” she said. “This is the first thing we’ve been to in I don’t know how long.”
Hodges knew exactly what she was going to do next. She and her companion had already scoped out the food choices and now it was time to eat.