Small Town News and a Date with the Tough Old Broad

We drove the Tracker into town yesterday for water and groceries and picked up a copy of the Holtville Tribune. Two stories on the front page--one about results of the California presidential primaries and the other about the Carrot Festival. Guess which one had bigger headlines, more details, and continued on to the next page? Here's a hint--the paper also featured a 2-page spread, with lots of photos, of the Wesley Preschool celebrating 100 days of the school year and 100 years of Holtville. I also learned from the article that Miss Betty's class was working on the letter P by making pizza and eating pickles and popcorn, and that Miss Nancy's class is making great progress in their potty training. Another page had summaries of all the police dispatch calls for the week. About the worst thing that happened in Holtville this week was that someone's tools got stolen out of their unlocked truck. Oh, and the police came over and gave a stern lecture to a 12 year old boy whose dad caught him sneaking out of the house late at night. I think I'm going to give up my subscription to the Salt Lake Tribune when I get home, and get one for the Holtville Tribune instead.

Early this morning, Norita, the "tough old broad," came by to pick up a bag of recyclables that we had for her; she had told us that her long walks into the desert are to hunt for bottles and cans to sell. After reading the great write-up in the paper, I really wanted to go to the Carrot Parade and Festival. Steve was absolutely not interested, so I ask Norita if she wanted to go with me, because it's always more fun to do something like that with someone else, at least it is for me. She did! So we did! And we had a blast. The parade was huge--must have gone on for over an hour. Five or six marching bands from different high schools in the area, quite a few carrot-themed few floats. A dozen or more beautifully restored cars from the antique car club, guys on horseback, guys driving their tractors in formation. Seems like anybody who wanted to march did so, including the under-age 8 soccer team, and the Holtville High School 1969-71 reunion ladies, dressed in cowboy clothes and riding stick horses. The parade route was lined with families who cheered and clapped for their family members in the parade. The folks at the grandstand announced each and every entry.

After we got tired of watching the parade, we wandered around the park, where the food stands, vendors, and carnival rides and games were set up. Yeah, the vendors had the predictable T-shirts, jewelry, scented candles, etc., but a lot of it was made and/or sold by local groups for fundraisers , and mixed in with Go-Fish games and make-your-own sand-paintings for the little kids. Everybody was having a good time.There was lots of great food, again made and sold by locals. For $3, I got a the largest baked potato I had ever seen, loaded with butter, broccoli, carrots (of course!), real bacon bits, nacho cheese, green onions, and sour cream. Someone was selling homemade root beer, and, right next to him, kettle corn. I watched it being made and shoveled, still warm, into big bags, and I grabbed one for a "prize" for Steve. One of the floats was made up of crates and crates of vegetables, picked fresh only hours before from local farms. After the parade, you paid $5 to stuff a huge plastic bag with as many veggies as it would hold. I came away with about a dozen carrots, a large cauliflower, a couple of heads of broccoli, and two huge leaf lettuces of different varieties. Norita got some bok choy (what does one do with bok choy, anyway?), turnips, several bunches of radishes, broccoli, and carrots.

We're leaving this area tomorrow, heading to Gila Bend and then on to Organ Pipe national Monument. Don't know if I'll ever get back to Holtville, but the thought of it will always make me smile.