stevenpiziks (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-07 05:37 pm
stevenpiziks) wrote2019-11-07 05:37 pm
Albion: Festival of the Forks
While we were in the middle of all that house-hunting, the Festival of the Forks arrived, and Darwin was specifically asked to attend. He agreed, and we made arrangements to stay in Albion for that weekend. We had to be in Albion anyway because Darwin (and therefore I) had been invited to attend Albion College's annual banquet for distinguished alumni.
At the banquet, we met a whole pile of people, all of whom told Darwin how glad they were that he had accepted the job. This was a little overwhelming for both of us--never had Darwin been greeted with such enthusiasm, nor had he come across a community in which so many people cared so deeply about the position of city manager.
I should mention here, though, that Albion's most recent city manager was left under a cloud of scandal. Also, the managers before that were apparently iffy at best (from what various citizens told us) and did little to pull the city forward. To a one, these managers focused on trying to bring back manufacturing, and they all failed. So the community was desperate for someone with both experience and new ideas. This is Darwin.
Anyway, the banquet was very interesting, way more so than I anticipated. Five Albion alumni had been selected as distinguished, and during the banquet, each stood up and gave a speech. As a speech teacher, I tend to nitpick other people's speaking, and though I don't show it, I get bored easily during bad speeches. The first speech didn't disappoint. The recipient was so quiet, you could barely hear. But then the next lady took the podium and gave a speech reminiscent of a Baptist preacher. She was getting her moment to shine, dammit, and she was taking it! She was great! And then another woman spoke, a former teacher who knew what she was doing with a microphone. And then a combat veteran who was both funny and poignant.
Back at our room, Darwin and I rested for a while--I'd worked all day before the banquet and was tired. But finally we decided to go out and see the festival. We headed out at about ten minutes before nine--and found the festival was shutting down for the night. Totally dead. People were heading for parking lots and houses. We were a little startled and disappointed. We contented ourselves with exploring the darkened side streets and getting a feel for the residential areas.
Saturday we attended the festival proper. This started with a parade down the main street, in which Darwin and I walked. We were there with firefighters and the school marching band and the police and convertibles with local business luminaries in them. No floats, oddly.
I'd never done a parade before, and I don't think anyone much knew who I was or why I was walking with the city councilors, but I waved at everyone anyway. It was kind of fun. The parade passed by a booth with an LGBT rainbow on it. I was surprised and curious, both. They waved enthusiastically at Darwin. I made a mental note to go back.
After we finished the parade, Darwin and I went back through the main street to explore the festival properly. Darwin got hung up talking to police and paramedics at the Public Safety tent, and I suddenly remembered the rainbow booth. I trotted down the street and found them. The booth was staffed by two older women and a young man. I introduced myself as the husband of the new city manager, and they were happy to see me. Well, really they were happy about Darwin. I asked what the gay community is like in Albion.
"There isn't much of one," the young man said. "We're not really organized. This group we've started is new."
I brought Darwin down to meet them, to more enthusiasm.
"We're really glad to see a gay city manager," one of the women said. "It helps so much."
The straight community often thinks that there's this vast network of LGBT people these days, and to an extent that's true, but it's pretty much confined to large cities. Small towns and rural areas are hurting in this regard. Even with the Internet, LGBT people in outlying areas are often isolated, not only because there are fewer such people to network with, but also because homophobia and threats of violence are still ongoing concerns.
Darwin and I explored the rest of the festival. Everyone we talked to had hyped it up, so our expectations were high. It was . . . nice. Some fun exhibits and a bit of shopping. But we ran into a number of oddities. The biggest one was that it shut down very early every day. On Friday, as I said, it was over by 9 PM, and Saturday it ended at 7 PM. There was no festival on Sunday at all. A small fight broke out at one point, and Darwin and I happened to be present when the police were talking about it with the guy in charge of organizing the festival.
"Next year, we should shut down earlier," the cops said.
Darwin and I exchanged glances. Earlier? They were barely open as it was!
The festival was also split up and spread all around Albion. On the main street were a few booths for local organizations and businesses, along with a stage where local acts played every so often. The food sellers were three or four blocks away, down at an area normally reserved for the farmer's market. The beer tent was similarly a few minutes' walk away. A carnival with kiddie rides and games set up in a small park, also distant from the main street.
This mystified Darwin and me. Why split up the festival? Festivals depend on crowds that themselves draw more crowds. A scattered festival has an empty feel. Darwin later learned that the food sellers all wanted to be in the farmer's market, so the festival let them be down there. I pointed out that the stage was usually empty, and there should be an act there every moment the festival is running. The food sellers should be set up on one of the nearby side streets, and the carnival (which should also have rides for teens and adults, not just small children) should be on another side street. The parade, which interrupts the festival on Saturday morning, should be moved to Friday afternoon, to kick everything off. The festival needs more booths, especially artists, crafters, and other merchants, instead of focusing on local organizations. It also needs activities that take advantage of the river--a rubber ducky race, canoe floats, rafting.
Well, next year . . .
The following week, the city held a special welcome reception for Darwin, and they wanted me to come, too.
At the banquet, we met a whole pile of people, all of whom told Darwin how glad they were that he had accepted the job. This was a little overwhelming for both of us--never had Darwin been greeted with such enthusiasm, nor had he come across a community in which so many people cared so deeply about the position of city manager.
I should mention here, though, that Albion's most recent city manager was left under a cloud of scandal. Also, the managers before that were apparently iffy at best (from what various citizens told us) and did little to pull the city forward. To a one, these managers focused on trying to bring back manufacturing, and they all failed. So the community was desperate for someone with both experience and new ideas. This is Darwin.
Anyway, the banquet was very interesting, way more so than I anticipated. Five Albion alumni had been selected as distinguished, and during the banquet, each stood up and gave a speech. As a speech teacher, I tend to nitpick other people's speaking, and though I don't show it, I get bored easily during bad speeches. The first speech didn't disappoint. The recipient was so quiet, you could barely hear. But then the next lady took the podium and gave a speech reminiscent of a Baptist preacher. She was getting her moment to shine, dammit, and she was taking it! She was great! And then another woman spoke, a former teacher who knew what she was doing with a microphone. And then a combat veteran who was both funny and poignant.
Back at our room, Darwin and I rested for a while--I'd worked all day before the banquet and was tired. But finally we decided to go out and see the festival. We headed out at about ten minutes before nine--and found the festival was shutting down for the night. Totally dead. People were heading for parking lots and houses. We were a little startled and disappointed. We contented ourselves with exploring the darkened side streets and getting a feel for the residential areas.
Saturday we attended the festival proper. This started with a parade down the main street, in which Darwin and I walked. We were there with firefighters and the school marching band and the police and convertibles with local business luminaries in them. No floats, oddly.
I'd never done a parade before, and I don't think anyone much knew who I was or why I was walking with the city councilors, but I waved at everyone anyway. It was kind of fun. The parade passed by a booth with an LGBT rainbow on it. I was surprised and curious, both. They waved enthusiastically at Darwin. I made a mental note to go back.
After we finished the parade, Darwin and I went back through the main street to explore the festival properly. Darwin got hung up talking to police and paramedics at the Public Safety tent, and I suddenly remembered the rainbow booth. I trotted down the street and found them. The booth was staffed by two older women and a young man. I introduced myself as the husband of the new city manager, and they were happy to see me. Well, really they were happy about Darwin. I asked what the gay community is like in Albion.
"There isn't much of one," the young man said. "We're not really organized. This group we've started is new."
I brought Darwin down to meet them, to more enthusiasm.
"We're really glad to see a gay city manager," one of the women said. "It helps so much."
The straight community often thinks that there's this vast network of LGBT people these days, and to an extent that's true, but it's pretty much confined to large cities. Small towns and rural areas are hurting in this regard. Even with the Internet, LGBT people in outlying areas are often isolated, not only because there are fewer such people to network with, but also because homophobia and threats of violence are still ongoing concerns.
Darwin and I explored the rest of the festival. Everyone we talked to had hyped it up, so our expectations were high. It was . . . nice. Some fun exhibits and a bit of shopping. But we ran into a number of oddities. The biggest one was that it shut down very early every day. On Friday, as I said, it was over by 9 PM, and Saturday it ended at 7 PM. There was no festival on Sunday at all. A small fight broke out at one point, and Darwin and I happened to be present when the police were talking about it with the guy in charge of organizing the festival.
"Next year, we should shut down earlier," the cops said.
Darwin and I exchanged glances. Earlier? They were barely open as it was!
The festival was also split up and spread all around Albion. On the main street were a few booths for local organizations and businesses, along with a stage where local acts played every so often. The food sellers were three or four blocks away, down at an area normally reserved for the farmer's market. The beer tent was similarly a few minutes' walk away. A carnival with kiddie rides and games set up in a small park, also distant from the main street.
This mystified Darwin and me. Why split up the festival? Festivals depend on crowds that themselves draw more crowds. A scattered festival has an empty feel. Darwin later learned that the food sellers all wanted to be in the farmer's market, so the festival let them be down there. I pointed out that the stage was usually empty, and there should be an act there every moment the festival is running. The food sellers should be set up on one of the nearby side streets, and the carnival (which should also have rides for teens and adults, not just small children) should be on another side street. The parade, which interrupts the festival on Saturday morning, should be moved to Friday afternoon, to kick everything off. The festival needs more booths, especially artists, crafters, and other merchants, instead of focusing on local organizations. It also needs activities that take advantage of the river--a rubber ducky race, canoe floats, rafting.
Well, next year . . .
The following week, the city held a special welcome reception for Darwin, and they wanted me to come, too.