The church we attend is Saint Mary Magdalene Catholic Church, and since it was recently the Feast of Mary Magdalene, what else was there to do but have a festival? Never mind that the temperature was 101, with humidity that made it feel ten to fifteen degrees hotter — in spite of all risen mercury, the turn out was fairly impressive.
It did make for some challenges. The inflatables were hot to the touch — so hot, we were afraid L would burn her feet without socks, so we didn’t let her romp about on them. (After she touched one, she didn’t want to either.)
The other rides probably weren’t much better.
Due to the high attendance, though, I didn’t usually find out. I wasn’t too upset about missing the whirley ride, though. Dizziness mixed with heat would be potentially embarrassing. How odd: such rides rarely turned my stomach as a kid. As I get older, though, I get more sensitive, which is itself odd: the general trend in aging is to grow less sensitive to so many things.
As always, the highlight for the Girl was the dancing. L will dance — and has danced — to just about any music: bluegrass (one of her favorites), traditional Polish highlander music, Bach’s “English Suite No. 2”, the Grateful Dead, Sonny Stitt, etc.
One of the things I like about the Catholic church in America is how it tends to draw so many cultures into its community, and these communities often have a strong sense of their heritage, which they pass through the generations. It’s most evident with the Hispanic cultures, but that’s probably more a question of demographics than anything else.
