I have lots of good memories of going to the Yarmouth Clam Festival when I was a kid. I think we probably went every year; driving to the playground in Yarmouth, parking the car, waiting for the shuttle to come. The shuttle was any one of the town school buses that were put to use picking up festival goers, bringing them to the center of town, only to return for their fried-dough-stuffed, Tilt-a-Whirled-selves later that night. That one day of the year would be one of the few times that I’d ever ride a school bus over the course of my life. And by way of explanation, for those of you who don’t know me, when your mom teaches at your school, you don’t get to ride a bus. I probably don’t have to tell you, for those of you who do know me, that the bus was every bit as good as the actual festival to me. I mean, it’s a school bus! For kids! Like me!
So this year marked year one of Dashiell’s (and Cathy, Marjetta, Michael, Cory, and Robyn’s) introduction to the Festival. For better or worse. He was pretty thoroughly entertained (the people watching is really, really good*) and only somewhat confused when the Kora Temple Shriner’s came through the parade with their tiny cars and big, old men. Can you blame him?
I think not.
* Highlights include fashion mistakes too numerous to mention and one mom “helping” her kids pee outside by holding them around their waists while they clung to their mylar balloons. Mom: helping might have better involved you holding the balloons so they could pop a squat more effectively. Just a thought. But it was good entertainment, so thanks for not thinking of that.Tweet