The Fireman's Fair
I can still smell the citronella
on the balmy air and hear the numbered wheel roll,
"clack-clack-clack" and see the crowds that milled
around the Fireman's Summer Fair. I clutched little sister's arm
to hold her back.
Nearby, brightly colored patchwork quilts were hung on lines; not
many folks could pay what they were worth. I heard remarks about
their beautiful, handsewn designs - mingled with the laughter and
the mirth.
A small crowd gathered, fascinated by the barkers's spiel; then
plunked down nickels and their precious dimes. Entranced the
"gamblers" waited - all eyes on the wheel. I stood and
watched a half-a-dozen times.
Lucky ones walked off with celluloid dolls they had won. A seven
year old gazed so longingly, watching; as the townsfolk reveled
in their night of fun. I wished there was a kewpie doll for me.
For it was depression days; most families didn't have much; our
folks couldn't buy the trinkets that we craved. We were lucky -
just to be there brought our lives a festive touch; our Mother
shared with us pennies she'd saved.
We knew that she had sacrificed, but we spent every cent she gave
us on the goodies that we ate. We seemed to understand that our
real souvenirs were meant to be lights and crowds and staying out
so late.
Yes, we have recollections of that bleak Depression year; the
country, as a whole, was under pressure. So, I am thankful for
that glimmer of remembered cheer, at the outing Mother planned
for us to treasure.
- Lillian Arnold Lopez "Pineylore"