When I was growing up, the most eagerly anticipated local event of the year was the week-long affair held the first week of September officially known as the Kiwanis Homecoming. Everyone called it "the fair," and for many years there was a county-fair-like portion of the event, with prizes given out for various items, but the highlight was the carnival midway.
There were a number of events held in conjunction with the annual Homecoming Week. A 5K footrace. A combination talent and beauty contest that crowned a homecoming queen. A Saturday morning parade. And the Friday night event in which I participated for years, the cakewalk held as a fundraiser for the high school band. (I played during my middle school and high school years, and for a few years after graduation as part of an alumni band.) It always brought a feeling of pride when one of the winners selected a cake my family had made, or when a specially-decorated cake baked by my mother or grandmother was selected to be auctioned off.
It was a busy week but it was also a fun week. Armed with money provided by my parents and grandparents, I'd hit the midway. I wasn't much of a rider on attractions known as the Octopus, the Scrambler, or the Tilt-A-Whirl, but I enjoyed playing some of the midway games in an attempt to win a prize. And it was always imperative to get a candied or caramel apple, or a burger from the Shriners' food wagon.
In later years, the Kiwanis Homecoming took a back seat to a new event called the Woolly Worm Festival, held in late October. The festival began in the late 1980s and was born out of a popular newspaper column written by local native Rosemary Porter Kilduff, the wife of the local newspaper editor who had achieved national notoriety by being the person who announced the death of President Kennedy to the world. In her column, she dutifully reported the coloration of woolly bear caterpillars sighted by local residents and tallied the results. Since the colors of a woolly worm's coat can predict the severity of the upcoming winter, according to rural mountain folklore, those results were always provided to the National Weather Service office in Jackson "as a public service."
The Woolly Worm Festival rapidly became a popular weekend event during the high point of fall foliage season. Crowds would descent on downtown Beattyville to visit vendors' booths, listen to music, watch a parade, and renew friendships.
Why this trip down Memory Lane and the blurbs about the history of events in my little hometown? What makes this relevant to current events? That will become evident momentarily.
Like every other community, mine wasn't spared from the fallout of the Chinese virus last year. The Woolly Worm Festival was one of many special events that fell victim to cancellation. (The Kiwanis carnival has been held only sporadically in recent years.)
For awhile this year, things seemed to be back on track. Businesses were opening back up. Bars and restaurants were resuming in-person service. People were traveling. Events were being scheduled. But suddenly, virus cases are on the rise and panic is setting in once again.
There have been a rash of cancellations lately. In my hometown, a car cruise, an off-road vehicle event, and a concert (that had been postponed from earlier this year due to inclement weather) have been axed. The local museum called off an old engine and tractor show and a fish fry that is one of its leading fundraising events, which is especially harmful because the museum sustained substantial damage in flooding earlier this year.
And recently, the local Kiwanis Club turned down a chance to book a carnival after being pressured by local officials not to bring them to town. These same local officials are applauding the recent decisions to cancel the other local events.
It's not just here that these cancellations are happening. After previously announcing that proof of vaccination or a recent negative test would be required for participation, Lexington's gay pride festival was called off. Some other annual events have also been postponed for a second straight year.
Yet in other places, special events are taking place as scheduled. A music festival in Manchester, the Honey Festival in Jackson, and the Swift Silver Mine Festival in Campton all took place in recent weeks.
With the local cancellations, and the pressure to not bring a carnival to town, it's logical to ask what will become of the Woolly Worm Festival in 2021. Will the festival organizers hold it as planned, or will they be pressured into calling it off yet again?
Already, the publisher of one of the local newspapers, whose family plays a key role in the festival's organization, has gone on record as stating the festival needs to take place as planned this year. He made the case in an editorial published in this week's edition of their paper.
With the festival only a few weeks away, it's quite likely local officials will try to force the event's planners to call it off and make it look like a voluntary decision on their part.
Here's some advice to all sponsors of special events everywhere: Don't give in. Don't cancel your festivals and celebrations and concerts. If they are to be called off or postponed, make the elected officials do it. Let them take the heat and the blame for it, and let the public decide whether or not they made the right decision.
And members of the public will certainly have an opportunity to weigh in very soon. Local officials (county judges-executive, mayors, fiscal court members, and city council members) will stand for re-election next year. If they prohibit events from being held, or don't vote to approve them, then the voters will get to determine whether or not they agree with that decision.
Organizing a special event is a tireless and often thankless job. Most people who get involved do it because they want to give back to their communities and provide something of value. When decisions were made last year to cancel events, many of these folks took criticism while others praised them. The same thing has happened this year with decisions to call off events, as well as decisions to hold them. These people don't deserve that hassle.
Elected officials, on the other hand, willingly step into the fray and volunteer to take the heat for their decisions. They knowingly take on that responsibility. Put the onus on them. Let them make the decisions, defend those decisions to the public, and then let the electorate make its opinion known at the ballot box. That's what they get paid for.
