From August to September, there is an annual flurry of festival, food, and fun. The actual flurries will "be here before you know it" but it is too early to "snow on the parade". Without further ado and in no true ranking, here is a Top 10, thanking summer and welcoming fall.
#10: Run the Park
When I turned 40, I thought I might retire from running. That thought lasted a few seconds as a surge of pride, ambition, and ferocity seized my cranium. Running is therapeutic for this human and stillness is terrifying. Running a 5K in Stackhouse Park however is less therapy terrain and more hillside horror show. On the fourth Saturday of August, I was one of the wilderness nuts climbing our community's bountiful park for so-called fun.
I went from being mesmerized by Denali National Park in Alaska to punishing myself in Stackhouse a few weeks after returning home. My wife captured the photo finish where a 40-year-old juggernaut lost to a younger, more athletic female. It was breathtaking trail theatre.
Breathtaking as in I could not breathe nor could I get around that beast of a woman. Great race, comrade.
I hear 41 is the new 21.
I'll be back. (Terminator Voice)
#9: Art in the Park
The next day was Stackhouse's annual art extravaganza on the trail and into the Westmont streets. Each year, I assert myself as the Stackhouse Park board member who pretends to be traffic cop. I put on my Stackhouse Park baseball cap and I help vendors by providing directions and helping with the setup /tear down process. I rely on charm and good-natured disposition aligned with Mother Nature. We have had sunshine on our side throughout this event's history. Thank you, Mr. Sun, you golden star of the galaxy.
It was a great day to celebrate community, support local artists, eat and drink from local businesses, and pet alpaca. You know it is a party when there is a beer tent and a makeshift alpaca petting zoo near a police station. God Bless America.
Next year, let's hope for more sunshine and an elephant.
#8: Fiddler on the Roof
When my 9-year-old secured a role in a local performance of Fiddler on the Roof , I announced I would be performing a one-man play called Drummer in the Basement, a Dad Story. Animal has always been one of my heroes.
In all seriousness, my daughter is a performer. She is all jacked up to be On the Roof. In November, she and a cast of characters will perform at the University of Pittsburgh at Johnstown and I could not be more proud of her. Until then, it is learning, practicing, and appreciating an iconic story. She has already bonded with fellow performers and benefited from the experience of meeting young people and adults who embrace the arts.
Cheers to all you artists out there. Whether you are on a stage or a crafty creator, the world needs more creatvity and less complaining. If you are going to stand on your roof and shout, may it be to affirm or encourage someone else.
Buy a ticket for our area's Fiddler on the Roof coming to a stage this autumn.
Drummer in the Basement will be performed this winter - free admission.
#7: Basketball Conditioning
While my eldest child has been working on her craft, my youngest has been pounding the pavement. My 7-year-old is a more primal creature. She responds well to chaos. Her disposition can best be described as the calmest person during a fire drill. So, when a dedicated teacher with a military background makes her do crunches and run circles around a church, it is a beautiful thing.
And when she wakes up the next day and curses him for it, I am so very happy.
#6: Laurel and Grouse
This Cambria City restaurant opened its doors this summer and it was a welcomed spot for an August date night. My wife got craveable pappardelle pasta and I ate a sirolin filet like the happiest caveman on the planet. I thought of my well done, sun scorched daughter doing crunches while I devoured medium-rare majesty, hoping the button to my jeans would not explode like a grouse flying out of the brush.
And that dear readers is called creative writing.
Laurel and Grouse - keep it coming.
I ate that steak the night before I ran the Stackhouse 5K.
We all have crosses to bear.
#5: Log House Arts Festival
Here is something you don't hear a parent say at Arts Fest to their children:
"Touch that."
Each year in Westmont the Community Arts Center hosts this event dedicated to art of all kinds. And each year parents maze through the grounds hoping their children do not break, steal, or say something offensive about a work of art. It should be doctor recommended for parents who need to instill discipline. I've heard my wife instruct my girls to keep their hands behind their backs when entering a booth.
"Approach the canvas like a criminal, darlings. Nod if you desire a price check." (Wife Terminator Voice).
Thanks to all the Arts Fest vendors we visited on our Sunday stroll. And thanks to all the survivors of the Saturday storm...
#4: Saturday Storm @ Cambria City Ethnic Festival
Our family has a short Subaru ride to Ethnic Fest each year. We get into our Ascent, a vehicle rooted in Japanese craftmanship, and descend to Cambria City rich in Polish, English, Irish, German, Welsch, and Slovakian ancenstry. It is a wonderful, yearly immigration story. On the horizion, the promise of pierogies.
As we surveyed our eatery options, my eldest and pickiest daughter yearned for her favorite ethnic food, the hot dog. The wind began to whip. Her hot dog scent could not inflitrate the winds of change and the incoming torrential downpour. I walked nonchalant after eating pierogies, completing the digestion phase, unconcerned about finding the dog or water from the skies.
And when it rained, it did indeed pour. Folding chairs were folded by the heavens. Cans rattled down the streets like aluminum tumbleweeds. Some tents collapsed or tried to fly. My wife and kids ran for shelter while I soaked it all in.
Once I found my family alive and the storm died down, we rebooted the hot dog pilgrimage.
The sun came back out and a girl could live the American dream once again. When her soggy palm clutched the bun, freedom rang.
#3: Mountain Craft Days
A week after the ethnic storm of the century, we arrived at the Somerset Historical Center to conclude a remarkable run of festing for our four. Our neighboring county puts on a turn back the clock doozy of an event. A team of parking attendants led me to a grassy knoll to park my Subaru covered wagon. From there, it was an all out, all day enlightenment.
From buckwheat to barrelmaking, from kettle soup to apple cider, from all kinds of smiths (tin, rifle, black), from wood turning to butter churning, it was a mountainous marvel. Under the Somerset sun, we ate midday corn mush, one of my favorite sentences of all time. We shared corn on the cob and pancakes on a plate. All our blood types were changed to maple syrup + corn. My girls tried to walk on wooden stilts while I examined a replica firearm that took the life of Abraham Lincoln.
If only someone could have told John Wilkes Booth...
"Don't touch that."
#2: Ice Cream Honors
Ice cream is vital to a Dad body. I would like to thank Serendipity and Shaffer's for a summer of shaping, sculpting, and satisfying. Here is my Mount Rushmore of 2024 ice cream:
Serendipity Coffee (George Washington)
Shaffer's Coconut (Thomas Jefferson)
Serendipity Raspberry Road Runner (Theodore Roosevelt)
Shaffer's Mint (Abraham Lincoln, Shame on You John Wilkes Booth)
#1: Smile
There was no bummer to our end of summer. It was a tour de festival force and the starting point to all events was a smile. As the leaves start to change, do not leave the smiles in summer. Those continue on your roof, in your covered wagon, and on the trails that connect our communities. Be grateful for all those who volunteer, create, support, and inspire. Bring on pumpkin season.
Ice Cream Honorable Mention: Serendipity or Shaffer's Pumpkin (Statue of Liberty, no torch, holding a pumpkin)
