Once a year a particular type of excitement came to our small town on the banks of the Ohio River. The Fourth of July, Independence Day, called for parades, and picnics and visits from relatives. But for me the great excitement happened all week—The carnival came to town with thrilling rides, a merry-go-round, cotton candy, and pony rides. I could hardly contain myself waiting for the Fourth, the night my family would go the carnival. Loud music, bright lights, and a duck pond where I could to pick a little plastic duck with a number on its bottom that corresponded to a prize hanging on the back wall of the stall.
I know now that the prizes were cheap trinkets, but then I was excited that I had actually won something.
People dressed up then as though they were going somewhere special, and for some it was a special treat. I could go on describing the excitement and wonder of it all, but instead let me share a story I wrote some time back about a child, Emily, and her very first Fourth of July adventure which mirrors my first experience of Goin’ to the Fourth.
Click on the title at the right or in the header for the rest of the story.