September Fest Season with Danahey on the Loose

 

September is fest season in these parts.

As the summer light dwindles, just about every place, every town is holding an event of some sort. This reminds us that the season’s about to change. Or, to paraphrase Paul Simon, September means the year is slip slidin’ away.

To quote an Earth, Wind & Fire song, so far at least this September there’s never been a cloudy day. Bah-dee-yah, dee-yah, yah.

For Best Fest Buddy Tom and I, early September also meant attending our umpteenth annual Chicago Beer Society Picnic.

To change it up, this time Tom brought his three grandkids. He felt it was time they tried their first lager. Or took their first trip to Chicago and a forest preserve, LaBagh Woods. One of those.

As usual, there was a fine array of food. I especially enjoyed a vegan chili, an Indian chicken dish, a brisket taco, a pork belly bao bun and a partridge served in a pear sauce. Ok. One of those is a lie. Tom’s favorites were oxtail served on mashed potatoes and lemon bars.

I didn’t really have a favorite beer and stuck to cider. Tom was partial to a stout.

On the way there, the kids were talking about having to be extra careful heading to the big city and all. I was impressed, given their propensity to live dangerously – on playground equipment, as but one example.

At the picnic, the trio wound up making friends with other kids, if just for the afternoon. It was fun to watch the youngest one befriend animals, too. In this case, he was fascinated by two black greyhounds who stood taller than he does.

He’s like a little Dr. Doolittle. His grandpa, though, says that name often applies to all three of the grandkids when asked to clean the house.

As I digested food, the two boys tried to fly a kite that was about as big as they are.  Had they been successful, at their size they could have wound up airborne and in the path of planes landing and taking off not far away at O’Hare.

Tom tried to fly the kite, too. He had a problem getting it up. Make your own joke. It was chilly that day. At least he tried. I haven’t flown a kite in years.

The next day, Tom rented the latest Minions movie online for the trio. He bought candy and made popcorn for the occasion. At least one of the kids put on his minion pajamas.

Or maybe that was a different weekend. But it did happen. I swear.

We definitely did hit the Randall Oaks Zoo that Sunday to check out their new building. Plus, it was the macaw’s birthday. And we learned about foxes.

I thought the kids would like the playful prairie dogs housed in the new digs. The pups act like kids, which was lost on actual kids.

Per him being the Dr. Doolittle of the crew, the youngest was bravest, feeding goats and cows kibble. Me – I don’t like having my hand licked.

Zoo staff and guests signed a card and sang happy birthday to the macaw. I looked up afterward that macaws can live more than 50 years or much longer. As such, I hope the bird has a 401K.

As for the foxes, we learned that they pee a lot and are a big word – crepuscular. That means they are most active at sunrise and sunset. So they are like commuter traffic.

I mention all the above for those days present and future when, kids being kids, whine “You never take us anywhere. We never do anything.”

Which brings us to September Weekend #2, where there were two nearby festivals. Fiestapalooza, in honor of Mexican Independence Day, was at a park just a couple blocks from my house. It’s just a couple blocks from Tom’s place, too. His block is being renovated, so, as he says, it’s like an asteroid belt right now.

As for the fiesta, kids like events like this because there are a lot of booths from nonprofits and businesses from which they can get free stuff, most of which they will never use.

How many stress balls does a kid really need? How many fake names and email addresses do people provide, just to spin a wheel for a chance to win a kid a water bottle?

Still, this makes for a practice trick-or-treat run, filling goodie bags emblazoned with the names of hospitals, park districts and insurance agencies.

There were also vendors. The kids talked grandpa into getting beverages and trinkets, including a talking, wiggly toy cactus. I had my eyes on a plaid poncho, but they didn’t have one to match any of my kilts.

What also caught my eye that unseasonably warm afternoon was a trellis in the park. Lush and overgrown, it looked like something from the Hobbit hometown, The Shire. But I digress.

Later that day, the wiggly cactus became annoying. The kids thought it was funny to yell and curse at the cactus. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, the faux cactus would record then play back what they said in a happy cactus voice.

It was all very Beetlejuice. I had recently seen the mildly amusing sequel to the 1988 movie.

Yeah. It’s been 36 years. So seeing the sequel in September seemed perfect, per the aforementioned slipping and sliding.

Alas, September’s fests are sequels, slight variations of the originals reminding how fast the days go by. Enjoy the outdoors while you can. Winter’s on the way, and we ain’t exactly in Aspen.

Anyway, we cooled off that afternoon in Tom’s backyard pool. There was an indoor, halfway to St. Patrick’s Day fest at the Irish American Heritage Center to consider attending. With three young kids in tow, maybe not so much.

After dinner, we wound up back at the fiesta, around sunset. It was crowded by the stage as bands played Mexican music. We headed away from the crowd toward the playground.

A playground with lots of kids running about and little lighting seemed sort of spooky. That it was dark already before 7:30 p.m., all the more so.

The presence of teens only added to the zombie vibe. Eventually, I walked home. Tom walked to his home with the two of the three kids. The eldest stayed back with some neighbors. She can be convincing like that.

As if that wasn’t enough festiveness for one weekend, Sunday we trekked across the Fox River to Heritage Fest.

Oh, that was after a McDonald’s playland visit and breakfast, then putting together an Amazon-delivered portable disc golf basket. All the cool kids are getting them. And in the winter, the basket will be a good contraption for drying socks and boots. Or it could be used as a makeshift Christmas tree.

Speaking of, the fest featured a crafts fair, which meant holiday dust catchers aplenty and even nuns selling buns and other pastries.

The kids opted for charms for their crocs. Yes. That’s a thing. Because we don’t have enough plastic stuff in our lives. Or livers. It took a good 15 minutes for the kids to each pick out four of these charms. If only they were that methodical about their school work.

Sunday was the final day of this fest. There were fireworks for it over the Fox River Friday night, too. There’s an environmental group out this way that is friends with the river. I see the river as more of an acquaintance.

I sent the group’s leader an online message. I asked him about frightened flocks of waterfowl I saw from my pyrotechnical vantage point – and about past displays where the fireworks skimmed across the river. Is that really good for the ecosystem?  I haven’t heard back.

Either way, the fireworks are a relatively new addition to a fest that locals say has been around almost as long as Beetlejuice has.

This fest has a certain sameness to it every year, a comforting familiarity before we break out sweaters and/or head back indoors for fall.

Anyway, on Sunday it was warm again, which meant whiny kids for a bit. OMG. They had to walk.

Once they saw there was swag to be had, their moods changed. That, and being able to try to dunk a woman sitting in a tank, who was dressed as a dragon. She was willing to get wet to raise money for a local food pantry.

Side note: why is there always a booth at one of these things where somebody is trying to adjust your spine and/or sell you a new roof?

Tom and I both had our blood pressures taken at a booth promoting a local hospital. Both of ours were slightly elevated. Spending a weekend with three little kids and walking on hot concrete for an hour or so will do that to you.

Since our readings were about the same, I told the people working the booth we were twins. They may have even believed us.

The blood pressure readings most likely went higher still later that jaunt. Let’s just say the boys were doing their best Cain and Abel imitations in a busy eatery we stopped in on the way back to the car.

A Mrs. Kravitz-type threatened to call DCFS when she saw one of the little darlings being escorted to the bathroom by Tom. Tom was preventing the kid from peeing on the floor during a meltdown.

The lady dropped an F-bomb on me, which seemed, at the very least, unfriendly and a tad ironic.

After lunch, we all went into time out.

Of course, September ain’t over til it’s over, which means more festivities this weekend and the next one, too.

Cue the Willie Nelson.

Mike Danahey is a freelance writer living somewhere near Chicago. He’s available for hire and can be contacted by leaving a message for this post.