Cornfest

Dearest Rachel –

It’s the first Saturday in August, and you know what that means. Well, yes, they did serve food at the men’s Bible study this morning (you might recall that Oracio used to own – and still works at – a pizza joint. Yeah, pizza for breakfast, prepared on a grill. Things these days). But that’s not what I’m talking about. This is something that goes back a lot further.

In fact, it’s been going on since before either of us were born; since 1957 (isn’t the Internet something, where you can look something like this up on a moments notice?). The corn festival, or Cornfest, at the local community church, is a thing that we would make a point of stopping by and visiting each year. And I guess, since you can’t be here, I ought to tell you about my stop there this year.

But first, a slight digression. When you’re traveling, and or in a place where you’re not familiar with the neighborhood, and Sunday rolls around, you would always want to find a place of worship. Now, unlike the Baptists, The Methodist, the Presbyterians, and all those denominations, wherein you have a general sense of the doctrine that they follow, a ‘community church’ is like Forrest Gump’s box of chocolates. It’s more description rather than a denomination, and as a result, one might be very different from another.

And so it is with this one, in comparison to ours (which also calls itself a ‘Community Church’ – more on that in a moment). From what little I know about it, the name fits it, insofar as the community comes before the church. I have heard that, once upon a time, they actually dismissed a pastor for doing too much preaching on the Bible.

Let that sink in (and not just because sinks are incapable of opening doors).

Again, keep in mind that this is something I heard about this place. And the person that I heard it from, while normally an unimpeachable source, was never a member nor attendee there. So at best, I’m getting this information thirdhand. At the same time, the fact that I could find this quite plausible about a church in our area speaks volumes, none of them particularly good. Oh, the church does good in the community. It even opens its doors to serve as a synagogue on Sabbaths (although I’m not sure how it works on a day like today, with everything going on outside. Not really my concern, though). But if its people are not getting fed, what good is it in the long run?

Again, not my church, not my problem. If a congregation we will not eat his vegetables – let alone its meat – then it’s their own fault if they starve. That may sound cruel, but according to the story, it was their choice. Also, I have no idea how long ago this took place. By now, maybe they know better, and are more willing to listen to the Word.

But you know me, honey. Ever the pessimist. I really wouldn’t bet on things like that changing for the better.

Still, it doesn’t take deep spirituality to throw a decent party; in fact, some might say that that is more likely to get in the way. Although granted, that probably depends on what you consider necessary for a party. Here, it’s basically burgers, brats and corn. Lots and lots of corn.

All the corn you can eat, in fact. The only thing is, I think you would need to eat thirty ears of the stuff in order to get your money’s worth. Or at least sixteen, if you consider those listed prices to be reasonable for a sandwich and a drink.

Yeah, normally we would balk at the actual food prices. We were just here for the vendor stalls:

Which stretch for the better part of a block down Kirchoff.
And here’s a sign of the times; we never saw anything like this in the past. Not that it comes as any great surprise, but I’m just mentioning. You’d think we’d be over this by now, what with most people being vaccinated and all that (and those that aren’t being shamed into oblivion), but here we are. And again, I wish you were here by my side so I could snark to you (and have you respond back in kind).

This one was the first, but by no means the last booth selling masks. At least one of them had a vendor that was… well, ‘aggressively hawkish’ is selling it a little too sharply. But she did try with some determination to sell me what she referred to as a 3-D mask. I think I understand what she really meant (i.e., something form-fitting for your face), but technically, every possession we have exists in three dimensions, so every mask is a 3-D mask when you come down to it.

Still, as with AnimeIowa last week, there seems to be something… missing… about the festival. Maybe it’s because I’m there just as things are opening up, but I don’t really think so. It’s just emptier than it usually is.

That’s a lot of open field that would normally be crowded with booths. If nothing else, I would’ve expected – in a normal year – a booth selling Karmelkorn and freshly squeezed fruit juices and lemonades. But I suppose that sales of open food are verboten in these unfortunate times. I wonder how long this is going to go on.

At least you can buy stuff that’s still sealed up; now I have to get around to using it:

We would always buy a whole bunch of dip packets from this place; this year is no different. I’m not sure if I’m really looking to actually use them shortly, or if this is just out of some misplaced sense of tradition. Jan’s not gonna be happy with me adding stuff to the to the pantry all the time like this.

That little bit of tradition out of the way, I head across the street to where I have my car parked, and drive back home. Daniel may or may not be awake, but he’s waiting for me either way. And besides, Oracio sent me home with leftovers specifically for him; I should get those to them pretty soon.

I’ll talk to you later, honey. Love you.

Published by randy@letters-to-rachel.memorial

I am Rachel's husband. Was. I'm still trying to deal with it. I probably always will be.

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