
Monday, May 19, 2008
Long Live Rhody

Time for tiny stars to shine
The local schools let out early for the annual ritual of the Kiddie Parade, held separately so that the kids are then free to be spectators for the later Grand Parade.
Parents and friends lined the streets for the event which featured children in costume, on floats, riding tiny vehicles, and making music. This year, in another effort to appease the Town Council, the parade ran fewer blocks and was held uptown, away from the main business district. Though spirits were high, for some paradegoers the new route sent a troubling message.

So they think they can dance
Parade triage
Steady as she goes

That’s not an inner tube or a Depends undergarment. Each float has security holsters to keep the queens from toppling off their perches in bumpy conditions or sudden stops. One past Rhody queen told me the story of a time that the float got directed off the parade route and ended up on Interstate 5—the girls harnessed into place as they wove among freeway traffic, waving gamely to the startled drivers.
Can you spot a $58,000 difference?

Festival floats, which bear a town’s court to other cities and towns, are a big deal, and parades often feature competitions between them. At right, the Daffodil Festival float (longest in the parade) was sponsored by a casino and featured not only moving parts but an amplified sound system; it cost $60,000. The Rhody float was built in a board member’s yard and featured lots of paint, glitter, and spirit; it cost $2,000. And a little TLC can be just as good as cash--ealier this month, the Rhody float won its division at the 2008 Wenatchee Apple Blossom Festival, the first parade the float appeared in.
Princess of her own domain

In a parade with 93 floats, marching bands, and participating ensembles, there were endless ways to be a princess. There were canine princesses, cowgirl princesses, elderly Norwegian princesses, and even a man-princess or two. Here, you see a mer-princess, one of the girls on the Royal Court of--no kidding--The Irrigation Festival. How’s that for glamour?
Is this in my job description?

One tradition the town hasn’t yet crimped: a local fish company presents a King Salmon to the Queen during the parade. Queen Rachael Wiles is shown here reacting to the gift. The look on her face is genuine; she had missed out on this little tradition and was horrified to learn she really was expected to take the heavy (and, thoughtfully, pre-gutted) fish home with her.
History on hold

In addition to having their photos splashed all over the local newspaper and traveling the length of two states to attend other festivals, Rhody queens and princesses get the honor of having their handprints cast in the sidewalk--kind of the Port Townsend equivalent of the Hollywood Walk of Fame. Or at least, this will be true when the festival find a new home for the handprints; the town is now refusing to let them use any more downtown sidewalk space.
The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

The brawny crown-wearing Episcopals seemed destined to win, coming in ahead heat after heat--right until they lost the title bout to the fleet lads of the Paper Mill team, who aren't pictured because their very fast bed was also dead boring to look at. As one woman in the crowd murmured aloud, "I suppose it feels nice to win, but it's not much fun to watch."
Run for the roses? Not exactly.

This is a run for a bed pan. While some Rhody traditions have not lasted (including the Beard Pageant or the Beer Keg Toss) the Bed Race still draws big crowds, with the winning team of 4 runners and one rider (who must weigh 100 lbs or more) earning a silver-plated bed pan for their efforts. The three-time champions were the Safeway grocery store team, with a store clerk glammed up in pink (left); newcomers from the Food Coop (right) were fan favorites immediately, with their carrot-mobile. Keeping the beds on course was the "Kinetic Cop" (center).
Smells Like Queen Spirit

Royalty at street level

Sign of the times

When the carnival itself is telling you spend your money judiciously, we are in a very different economy. As it turns out, this carnival is part of family-owned Funtastic Shows and they're feeling the pinch like everyone else. The cost of filling up the trucks for the drive from Portland to Port Townsend was so much higher than last year that the carnival had to ask for a surcharge on ride tickets (for the first time ever) just to squeak by. The carnival VP told me with some surprise that nobody complained about the added fee, and local residents told me the same thing. Everyone seems to get it: unless you're an oil exec, the cost of fuel is an equal opportunity offender.
Fairs are for kids.

Rhody is also the only family-focused festival all year. While there are plenty of town-promoted events directed at retirees and weekenders, Rhody offers a carnival (the only one on the Peninsula each year), as well as a Pet Parade, and a Kiddie Parade—and, until this year, a trike race, which three generations of locals participated in before the Town Council complained it was an insurance risk.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
36 hours till parade time.

Old School

Lefty privilege

A consistent tension emerges here: the Town Council is intensely focused on marketing Port Townsend as a “Small Victorian Town” to tourists and new residents (mostly retirees from other places on the West Coast). That means no chain retailers of any kind, no stores that spoil this carefully maintained vibe, and “shop local” signs at every turn. As implied by the sign above (which manages to imply crunchy and elitist all at once), the town is a kind of theme park for progressive sentiment glossed with a decidedly upscale sheen. As a result, there are no department stores and very limited budget-friendly options anywhere in town. Water Street (the equivalent of main street) is lined with boutiques, artisanal crafts galleries, and upscale restaurants. A local mom told me that when she needed tights for a daughter’s dance class, she had to choose either fancy designer tights from one of the town's two upscale children’s store for $30 or drive almost an hour to another town to get basic ones. Yes, you can shop local, as long as your needs are oysters on the half shell, pricey blown-glass vases, and handmade jewelry.
An almost postcard view.

Locals out for a stroll
Friday, May 16, 2008
Next up: Rhododendron Festival, Port Townsend WA

Saturday, May 10, 2008
Another eye on Ohio
While at the Wild Turkey Fest, I met photojournalism student Amelia Holowaty Krales, whose evocative photos of Vinton County and neighboring Athens County can be found on her website here.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Pretty with Purpose (13 of 16)

Sharing the sparkle (12 of 16)

In a county where the annual per capita income averages $12,000-$14,000, most girls cannot afford an array of expensive dresses to attend these events. Often, past queens loan or give away dresses, or sell them for far less than their original cost. At the Volunteer Fireman’s Hall, where the queens met, the coatrack was hung full of dresses available to the girls for $20 or less. That's a big help to girls who must each attend 10-20 events a year for their town in order to earn their scholarships.
One size does not fit all (11 of 16)

I love a parade (9 of 16)

Much to everyone's relief, the first true sunlight of the weekend broke through the clouds just at the moment that sirens sounded the beginning of the Grand Parade. Farmers on tractors were joined by dozens of floats, including a politician’s granddaughter in her wagon, and a rural chapter of the Red Hats.
Midway to somewhere (8 of 16)
What is a Turkey Drop? (7 of 16)

Nope--it's part of the tradition in which the festival uses the proceeds from raffles and craft sales for local aid. The Lions Club “Turkey Drop” offers a split-the-pot prize for raffle ticket buyers whose tickets match the numbered squares on a big grid. The outcome is determined by Charles Wilbur, the wild turkey pictured here (named by Darlene, the turkey wrangler in the cowboy hat). If Charles Wilbur poops on the grid numbered the same as a buyer's ticket, the ticket-holder gets half the prize money and the Lions Club gets the other half--$500 each for winner and Lions alike in good years, when all tickets sell. The Lions Club money goes entirely toward providing eyeglasses and other visual services (like seeing eye dogs) for Vinton County residents with no insurance to help them buy their own. But sales were down a third this year, because, as the local probate juvenile court judge said, “When gas is $3.69 a gallon, you don’t have money for a raffle ticket.”
What are the Weight Watchers Points for Fried Candy Bars? (6 of 16)

The Politician & the Preacher (5 of 16)

You wouldn't want to miss breakfast in the Main Street Diner, where the $3 breakfast bowl gets you eggs, sausage, potatoes, and gravy. Ate with The Politician & The Preacher, as they are known, who hold court and greet everyone who enters. (Think Click & Clack of Appalachia.) Tom, the Politican (left) moved back to McArthur after years away because the area was in decline and he wanted to do something about it. Jim, the Preacher (right), goes “yard saling,” convincing people not to throw away clothes that he can donate to Goodwill in exchange for clothing credit for poor people. This matters because the general budget for the county lost $200,000 this year—almost 10% of its budget—with the same percentage lost in Family Services.
No place like home (4 of 16)

For $50 cash a night, I got a twin bed, a sink, and a tv, all in a small, dark room full of Indian-themed tchotchkes. Among the decorations: this framed print of what appeared to be Ricky Martin’s early work as a model for Romance Novels about love between warriors and settler women; and a curio shelf that featured a sad Indian clock and Native American Troll doll who apparently loves me “this much.”
Any place I hang my hat...(3 of 16)

18 wheels on the main drag (2 of 16)
Entering Vinton County (Turkey Fest, 1 of 16)
Thursday, May 1, 2008
First Up: Wild Turkey Days in McArthur, Ohio

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