Remember When

They called it a carnival. For me, it was more or less a county fair wannabe.

This small outfit popped into town during the lull of my summer vacation.

It only had about three or four rides and all of them were old, but it was something to do.

Rides aren’t everything, I guess.

There was a midway sideshow featuring the dog-faced man, a fat woman and a fella who could swallow swords.

Why, they even had what one of the fellas called a “hootchy-kootchy show.”

You can get into trouble when you don’t know the territory.

Two brothers who lived down the street, their cousin from Arch Street, and me had a fishing trip all figured out.

Now, this fishing hole boasted a right nice cabin where we could all spend the night.

The oldest member of our quartet did the driving and as planned, we arrived just before sundown.

My best buddy’s mama, Mrs. Ellie Pipkins, was a den mother and leader of  our neighborhood Cub Scout Pack.

Cub Scouts get to do some stuff, but nothing like the older Boy Scouts of America.

Most us were already experienced campers, but Cubs couldn’t go camping overnight. We could have back yard cook-outs and sharpen our knot-tying skills, but that was about it.

I guess you could say, that made us Boy Scouts in training.

First Baptist Church sponsored Boy Scout Troop 70 and a bunch of my Sunday School friends were already members.

It had been as hot as a firecracker all week.

Truck convoys loaded with soldiers were a common sight, with maneuvers in full swing.

The Red and Blue armies invaded Lancaster from opposite directions. Campsites were set up wherever thee was a hint of a shade tree.

The fellas were making the best of it, too, roaming around from one group of GI’s to another.