Bellevue Strawberry Festival: Childhood Memories

Summary:eurekaedora

Strawberry Festival
If I were to be restricted to but one more visit to my native
town, I think I should choose to make that visit at the time of the
Strawberry Festival. In my eyes it holds all of the glamour and sparkle
of a trip to a foreign land, so completely is our town changed while it
endures. As I see it now it is through the eyes of the child who saw it
then.
I can''t seem to keep my eyes to the ground as I walk down the
street, for there are so many intriguing things to be seen above. There
are the great, splashy signs across the street saying that this is the
way to the Strawberry Festival. The street is strung with lovely
brilliant lights that shine overhead at night and transport one to
Fairyland. All of my friends, both young and old, are laughing and gay.
We all feel that it is our duty, and a delightful one at that, to don
our festive manners and welcome visitors to our fair city. When we
reach the gates there is a great deal of good natured bantering going
on. As ever there are the very impressive state patrol men in their
immaculate uniforms. My extreme respect for officers of the law never
fails to make me sidle past them with down-cast eyes. The boy-scouts,
who are parking cars so methodically, are included in my awe of
official uniforms. I have nothing in common with them today. I have a
hearty respect, too, for the men who manage the last details, and,
despite their shirtsleeves and bare heads, retain their dignity. Safely
past the "powers that be" I assume my air of nonchalance once more,
although I am fairly bubbling with excitement inside. I have always thought that our park was beautiful, but today,

teaming with life as it is, it is even more beautiful in its cool,
green wildness. It is not in the least a civilized, citified park, but
now with its neat rows of tables and striped awnings it has the air of
being dressed for the occasion. The most impressive structure (next to the band stand) is the
serving booth. Here I take my stand to feast my eyes upon the visions
of snowy biscuits oozing with juicy, red strawberries and topped with a
luscious mound of whipped cream. Finally, clutching my pennies in my
fist I push my way to the front, no longer content to merely look.
Because I am such a little girl, the lady-who-works-in-the-post-office
gives me an extra large helping. With my precious burden balanced
safely, I trot to the table where a group of children of my own age
have gathered. With a sigh of relief I note that they all have
shortcakes too. It is not long before the band begins a stirring
concert. From that time on, much to my joy, there is a succession of
skits, songs, and dances upon the platform. When it begins to get dark
people become more and more hard to recognize until the lights come
twinkling on one by one. Then my land of fancy is a reality.
Bellevue Strawberry Festival: Childhood Memories Originally published in Shvoong: http://www.shvoong.com/humanities/1672014-bellevue-strawberry-festival-childhood-memories/