Welcome! I'm Sara Ramsey, a novelist and tech worker who recently moved back to my 430-person town in rural Iowa. I write about the wild and weird magic of my rural life, as well as anything else that strikes my fancy. If you haven’t subscribed yet, please join me!
Hi friend,
First, an update for mural fans1. Thus far, my faith in the local community has been rewarded. I was nervous yesterday, since only a few volunteers committed to our setup weekend. But so many locals showed up unannounced that we were able to sand, wipe down, hang, and prime the panels for fourteen murals in one day. We had expected it to take the whole weekend, but we were done in seven hours.
There are still a million things to do, but at least we have the important stuff: panels, paint, and 200+ artists heading our way this week. Still no promises on feeding the vegans, though, but I’m choosing optimism.
//
Last weekend was Old Settlers. All the local towns have their own summer festival — Watermelon Days, Bordertown Days, Allertonworld Fair, etc. That’s not a typo; Allerton has always believed it should have a world fair, small population be damned, and so it does.
But Old Settlers is the biggest of the county festivals. It’s distinct from the county fair, since it’s focused on local recognition instead of kids and agriculture. It’s always scheduled for the last stretch of summer before school starts and harvest becomes all-consuming.
Old Settlers is also the de facto homecoming for my old school district. Our official homecoming is during football season, but our football team sometimes fails to impress. Homecoming is less fun when you’re huddled on cold metal bleacher seats, watching the team lose 50-0. We hold our class reunions during Old Settlers instead. Former graduates know to show up every fifth August and find out where their reunion is, no RSVP required.
There are many events during Old Settlers, but the parade is a highlight. Some years you watch it, and some years you’re in it, but every year is mostly the same.
I almost didn’t go this year. It’s not my reunion year, and I was working on mural festival tasks until 45 minutes before the start time. But I needed some fresh air — as fresh as the air can be when the humidity is 85% — so I cleaned myself up and sped over.
I pulled into town eight minutes before the parade, parked, and claimed a spot on the parade route just as the American Legion’s color guard moved past me. My spot wasn’t totally prime — I was too late to crowd under a shade tree, and I hadn’t thought to bring a lawn chair. But I had a clear view of the floats and access to illicit candy tosses, so I settled in to enjoy the show.
I know I said float and show, which imply the Rose Parade or Macy’s Thanksgiving or Mardi Gras. They imply millions of flowers or beads. They imply extensive planning and forethought.
The Old Settlers parade isn’t really a “forethought” kind of thing.
The American Legion led the parade, as they always do. Their numbers are lower, and even the Vietnam vets have aged out of marching with the colors. This year’s entry was four people on a golf cart, with the American flag and the American Legion Post flag waving alongside them.
They were followed by the high school marching band, who use Old Settlers as a tune-up for marching season. When I was in high school, our band was far more successful than our football team — we won every marching contest around. I would guess that 20-30% of the high school was in band during my era, including cheerleaders and athletes who would jump into the band when they weren’t actively playing their sport.
At this Old Settlers, only fifteen kids marched. I don’t know whether to attribute the decline to dwindling class enrollments or lack of interest in band, but I do know that high school classes are >30% smaller now than they were twenty years ago.
I was sad about their size, but honestly I was more horrified that their lines weren’t straight. I looked away so I wouldn’t have the vapors over their ragged corner-turning. I would say their new director doesn’t yet have the retired director’s drill-sergeant ability to demand excellence.
And yes, I’m aware of the seed of grumpy nostalgia starting to grow within me — the almost physical need to say, Back in my day….
I feel like I’m too young to give in to that urge. But I also thought the high school band looked like children, so maybe I’m older than I want to believe.
After the band came the Old Settlers of the Year — a married couple riding in a red convertible and getting their moment in the (literal) sun as recognition for a lifetime of service to the community. They were followed by a hodgepodge of parade participants:
The New Settlers of the Year: a younger couple who own the flower shop and a tire repair shop.
The fire trucks of every volunteer fire group in the county, sirens wailing and lights flashing. The trucks were polished and gleaming; the firefighters were not. They’re not the firefighter-slash-model types who have taken over TikTok (or, at least, my TikTok… which may tell you too much about what the algorithm knows about me). They’re farmers, construction workers, and young professionals who show up and fight fires when needed. Their kids rode along and threw illicit candy out of the windows.
The County Democrats and the County Republicans (separately, of course). The local Democrats already have a candidate for the 2024 state senate race, which is a promising signal that they might be starting to regroup after a decade of disasters. The Republicans currently have the state sewn up, but the Iowa legislative session this year resulted in one repugnant piece of legislation after another, which is causing a lot of muttering even in usually-staunch Republican circles. I’m hopeful that Iowa will eventually swing back toward purple/blue. But I’m actively dissociating from the upcoming election cycle for now, so we’ll move on.
Random small children driving ATVs without adult supervision. Honorable mention goes to the two kids who dressed as Mario and Luigi and held their own Mario Kart race through the parade. Extra honorable mention to them because they didn’t run over any of the other small children, who were darting around grabbing illicit candy (which I’m calling illicit because candy-throwing is officially discouraged due to the risk of kids getting run over by other kids).
Class reunion floats. Every official reunion year self-organizes a “float” that their attending classmates ride through the parade. The float is usually someone’s farm trailer, with a few handwritten signs announcing the class year. All the float riders throw illicit candy.
Local businesses and organizations. Some drive; some walk; most throw illicit candy. The best is when they’re creative or amusing, like the kid who wore a pizza costume for the local pizza place. The worst is when they’re an unintentional anti-advertisement for their business because of how sketchy they look in the parade.
Horses. A group of horse riders ended the parade. If you have ever seen a parade with horses, you know why they’re usually the last entry, since no one should have to walk after them.
After the parade, I briefly checked out the carnival and marveled that there are still small traveling carnivals that meander through the Midwest. I also marveled that no one has died at any of our Old Settlers carnivals. This carnival company looked safer than usual, except for the fact that it was set up near a brick building whose façade is visibly close to collapsing onto the sidewalk. The building was blocked off by caution tape, but it didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.
I wandered around the town square a bit. I ate some excellent loaded french fries. I said hello to the county assessor (who personally knows that I renovated my house, but doesn’t officially know it). I thanked a couple of people for their donations to the mural festival.
I considered how it all felt bigger when I was little. I couldn’t answer whether that was because of my child’s perspective or because the local population has dropped so much.
And then I fled town before I became too maudlin, or was tempted to risk my life to a brick falling onto the Tilt-a-Whirl.
My class reunion is next year. There’s talk of renting the American Legion Hall for our class party — the smaller American Legion Hall that the remaining veterans acquired after selling the original three-story brick building that they could no longer maintain. I don’t know which classmate is in charge of signing the waiver saying that we won’t throw candy in the parade; I also don’t know who will buy the candy that we’ll throw anyway. I’m too busy thinking about this week’s mural festival, and making my way through the Dubble Bubble and Tootsie Rolls that I got from this year’s candy throws, to think about next year.
But Old Settlers will happen again. And when it comes around, I’ll probably find myself on a float, tossing candy and waving at the people who are still here.
Cheers,
Sara
See last week’s post if you don’t know about the mural festival. It starts in THREE DAYS!!!
Enjoyed your comments about the band lines. Next weekend is the Liberty Fall Festival and our oldest is always in the parade for her dance studio. Every year we comment how the two local high school bands do not hold a candle to our former glory days. Especially when it comes to line formation and cornering!
Sounds like a lot of fun!!! Good luck this week with the murals! I can’t wait to see pictures!