For some odd reason, the ambulance
reminded me that beginning this week, August 7-10-2014 is the
National Hobo Convention in Britt, Iowa (close to Mason City and
Clear Lake). There is a parade on Saturday at 10:00 a.m. "Some in
rags, some in tags, some in velvet gowns."
Hobos are migratory workers, some with a special skill or trade,
others ready to work at any task, but always willing to work to make
his way. The tramp is a traveling non-worker, moving from town to
town, but never willing to work for the handouts he begs for. A bum
is the lowest class, too lazy to roam around and never works.
There will be marching bands, queens, business floats, children,
adults, and hobos all come down the streets in one long line and
share the fun that only a Hobo Convention can provide. Following the
parade, mulligan stew is available. Other events during the weekend
include a 5K & 10K Walk/Run, Hobo King & Queen coronation,
Hobo Museum, Hobo Auction, Hobo Memorial Service, Vagabond Craft
show, and Outdoor Classic Car Show.
Showing posts with label Clear Lake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Clear Lake. Show all posts
Aug 8, 2014
Feb 3, 2010
The Day the Music Died
Feb 3 1959, Buddy Holly, The Big Bopper, and Richie Valens had their swan song in Clear Lake, Iowa. Been there and it is a beautiful lake in the middle of miles of cornfields. There is a super steak joint at the edge of the lake with pick-your-own and they grill each to order.
A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died. Don McLean
A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.
I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died. Don McLean
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