It has been two weeks since my last column. I would love to say missing last week had something to do with some sort of personal trials or tribulations - overcoming disease or maybe being framed for a crime I did not commit … kind of like the A Team. After all, I am just conceited enough to believe some folks enjoy reading my take on the issues of the day - I am, after all, a man and sort of the defining characteristic of a man is the belief that people care about your opinions (whether they asked for them or not). But, no, my editor texted me last week and said, “I’ve sold your spot” which gave me a lesson in both capitalism and humility. So, the status of importance for my voice in the community ranks somewhere below a legal notice for an estate sale and an announcement for a volunteer fire department fish fry. The estate sale might as well be for my dear, departed pride.
Two major town happenings have occurred since you last read my work, or at least scanned my work as you lined the kitchen floor with newspapers for your new puppy to potty on or whatever people are doing with newspapers these days. Yes, beautiful crime-free Iuka has somehow managed to survive through both the county fair and trunk or treat. Having two such events in back to back weeks is chaotic, roughly akin to having the opening day of college football season be on Christmas morning. The City of Iuka probably hasn’t been through a calendar week period so traumatic since the North invaded - and even General Grant just drank everybody’s whiskey. No one accused him of putting fentanyl in the Halloween candy. Concentrated opioids aside, Iuka parents know between the funnel cakes and fun sized candy bars our children are going to be jacked up on the white stuff (sugar) until at least Pearl Harbor Day.
The Tishomingo County Fair is an event that, when broken down, consists of two things: (1) several food vendors peddling funnel cakes, candied apples and various deep fried desserts and (2) plenty of spinning rides to make children throw up said food. When I was in high school, with an exception of that year where there was that scabies outbreak, the county fair was best known for armband night. Armband night was the one night of the fair, usually a Thursday, where for one low fee you could purchase an armband so strong it could only be removed with garden shears or the jaws of life when you got home that signaled you were allowed unlimited fair rides. Basically armband night was the closest Tishomingo County got to both Disney World and a riot … and all on a school night. So, armband night is still a thing - except every night is armband night now. Therefore, the fair is basically The Purge movies except the Purge in this scenario happens every night. My inner ear is so bad I get sick watching my oldest son ride spinning rides. The fair is a young man’s game. I’ll hang out in the background with my decaf coffee and the real hero of the fair: the sawdust spreader.
Getting back to Iuka being invaded by a bloodthirsty horde, post-Covid trunk or treat was bananas. So many showed up I think some of the folks handing out candy got blisters. For those of you who just moved here (or were blessed to not have children), trunk or treat is where community-minded people set up downtown and hand out treats out of the back of their cars instead of having the little ghouls walking the streets in the dark. If you see some dark parallels between folks in disguise distributing illicit substances out of the trunk of their cars … lighten up, Francis, it’s Halloween. It’s supposed to be about kids having fun.
I hope they enjoyed it. No more fun until Christmas. We can’t afford it. Between these events with their candied apples and candy bars, the only local making money is the dentist.