Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7,
Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15
It occurred to me that this year’s Urbanna Oyster Festival was my 40th. That’s a lot of enjoyment of this popular festival and certainly gains a position in the Middlesex Memories series.
We were living in Newport News in 1980 when I first became aware of Urbanna’s annual celebration from our teenage daughter, Liz. She was a student at St. Margaret’s School in Tappahannock and through her I learned that teenagers loved the oyster fest. Especially the college kids that poured into town from all over the commonwealth.
We started attending festivals each year when we moved here in 1984. After I started publishing books in 1989, I sat at the front of the Southside Sentinel building each Oyster Fest selling books and newspapers and finally “retired” in 2023 because of aging and exhaustion.
Over the years I met many readers who stopped to introduce themselves. They would talk about a column they had remembered from years ago that they had never forgotten.
One lady told me on page such and such in one of my books she had read something and suddenly realized that she had the same thoughts, though unspoken, in her brain her entire life and how thrilled she had been to discover them. It was as if she had discovered a pot of gold in her own mind and was rejoicing at the discovery. I realized I often felt the same way when I read books.
Which speaks to how writers and readers are somehow magically bonded through the written words. (And also, how important developing a large vocabulary is because we think according to how well we know language.)
It was great fun those years I sat at the Sentinel observing tens and thousands of people pass by including every breed of dog walking on a leash with his master from Great Danes to “chiwawas.” I often thought how much the dogs resembled their owners!
One terrifying dog memory was once I entered the Sentinel and the Gaskinses’ little Boston terrier ran out between my legs faster than a streak of lightning and was immediately lost in a crowd of thousands. Panicked, I ran after that little fellow and fortunately he stopped, looked back at me, and followed me back to the Sentinel. What a nightmare! If I had lost him that day how could I have ever told Bettie Lee?
One year while I was at my table selling my wares, the radio station from Tappahannock set up its tent next to my table and played loud music. I never heard a word that anybody said to me all day long.
Of course, rain was a terrible problem. Some, but very few of the fests were rained out. I remember one time that torrential rain came throughout the two-day weekend and most everyone closed up shop and went home. I think the festival may have decided to refund the registration money that year.
Other years the wind blew so hard from the Rappahannock that newspapers went flying down the street with me chasing after them.
A special memory was seeing Charles Bristow march in the 50th year parade. It must have been a thrill for him as he had been a leader in creating the festival many years ago that has now become the major economic boost for the town and county each year.
On earlier days politicians used to come to the festival to walk around and meet voters. Political stickers were everywhere and candidates would even walk or ride in the parade.
One year Senator Warner came to town and since we had a convertible in those days Chip and I drove him in the parade. I sat next to him sitting up on the back of the convertible but we had nothing in particular to say to each other. The senator waved and spoke to many in the crowds and when it was over I escorted him back to his helicopter that was left in a cornfield turned into a parking lot.
We passed a field of soybeans. He stooped down and broke off a part of the plant to sniff it. “How’re the soybean crops this year,” he asked.
“Why, I have no idea,” I answered looking at him as if he were crazy. “My interest is getting VMI to accept qualified women,” I added. He looked at me as if I were crazy. That ended our conversation.
In the early years there was a problem of alcohol consumption at the festival. I would sit at my table and see young people passing by that were flagrantly drinking beer. One lady even passed me pulling a wagon filled with beer.
Finally, the ABC moved into the festivals and started making arrests. One poor soul was arrested while he was buying a book as he was sipping a beer. He was nailed right at that moment, which killed all my book sales until the cop left the scene of the crime with him in tow. Drinking alcohol today is limited to restaurants or designated fenced off properties.
I used to love the crab cakes at the Mathews Lions tent but since they stopped coming, I now show up at the Aylett School tent. Crab cakes were priced at $6 when I first attended a festival and this year they were $10. That’s inflation for you. The ATM machine at the local bank has a line snaking around the block every year.
The area fire engines and Shriners never fail to come. Some say the two parades during the weekend make the fest. But I say it’s the seafood. Everyone to his own choice.
Once the Fireman’s Parade was routed down to Kent Street. I stood in the front yard waving an American flag as all those fire and rescue vehicles from so many counties passed by just to honor them for all they do. They gave me some extra toots, honks and sirens.
All of a sudden tears started streaming down my cheeks. I had to go inside the house. I felt such strong emotion sweep over me. How I love this country and being a member of our great American family!
© 2024
(Note: this is the last column in the “Middlesex Memories” series.)
