We weren’t going to go, but we felt obligated.
Once a year, our little village meets in the Historic District and celebrates our existence.
My husband and I sat in an old Masonic Temple, waiting for a friend, while eating a lukewarm hotdog and staring at old photographs of Masons from the 1940’s. I expected the place to be a bit creepy, given all the conspiracies of Masons in the media.
It wasn’t creepy, at all.
Nonetheless, we had already seen the line dancers in the street, and most of the vendors along the way. My favorite stall was across from the Belly Dancers exhibit, which was peculiar in itself. Three very heavyset women, dressed in gaudy costumes, gyrated themselves in front of gawking villagers – most of whom walked by as quickly as possible.
There was also the collective of costumed dogs walking around, which was absolutely delightful. Dogs dressed as Hotdogs, Soldiers, and other characters mingled through the crowd with a sense of ease that surprised me – just a bit. They didn’t seem the least bit concerned about the loud music – or the Belly Dancers.
“I’m going to buy a photograph of a dead person,” I told my husband. I had this pretty frame I had been keeping for some reason, and decided to fill it with a antique picture of someone I didn’t know.
Someone who is dead.
I bought this and named her “Eloise.” Some people say that taking a picture of a person – takes their soul. Well, if that is true, I’ll expect Eloise to be wandering thru our home, along with all the other visitors we seem to attract from time to time.
All in all, Apollo Day was a delight. We saw our neighbors and waved as we kept walking. It seems that, in Apollo, neighbors don’t talk to each other at public events. I’m not certain as to why this is so, but it seems to be an understanding.
And, I should have taken pictures of this event, but I didn’t. I don’t think people like having their picture taken in Apollo, either.
Maybe they think it takes their soul.
And, maybe it does…