Sunday July 15 2007
By James Fuller
To start, I'll just put it out there - I'm not the biggest fan of suburban summer festivals. Maybe it's because I grew up in Chicago, and my idea of a summer festival is the Taste of Chicago, or the Chicago Blues Festival.
Still, I'm a suburbanite now. And at least once during the summer I venture out to the land of corn dogs and elephant ears. The question is always, which fest to go to.
Saturday posed a rare opportunity. Seven communities, seven different festivals, all on the same day. Driving directions in hand, I set out at 9 a.m. to set a personal fest-a-thon record.
Fest one: I had to pick a festival to get me started on the right track. Naturally, that meant Railroad Days.
I pulled into the parking lot at Reed-Keppler Park in West Chicago shortly after 9 a.m. Railroad Days was an immediate disappointment.
It was early, perhaps too early. Most rides were idle, and unattended. The ticket booths were empty. And the morning's stiff breeze carried no hint of funnel cake.
Referee whistles, however, called me to the unique Railroad Days offering of mud volleyball. Six courts, squared off by sandbags and filled with ankle-deep mud. It's good mud, like the kind in Jeep commercials. Ten minutes of watching some of the best belly flops I've ever seen brightened my attitude.
To those volleyball athletes, here's mud in your eye.
Fest two: From there, I figure that if I can't get a corn dog, then I'll get some culture. Time to hit the first art-themed fest of the day, Wheaton's Fine Art Fair.
In general, my appreciation for art lies with the bizarre, or something that, when I see it, I know it'll stay rattling in my head for a while.
George Bucher's sculptures ended my quest for the bizarre. How often do you find a bust of Benjamin Franklin made of twine next to a twine lady smoking a cigarette?
"I don't make stuff they teach in school," Bucher said.
Then, as Bucher began picking at a homemade 5-string banjo, I knew I'd also found someone that would stay rattling around in my head. This would not be topped. So on to the next fest.
Fest three: Sticking with the art theme, I head over to the Women's Club Art Fair at Naper Settlement. Again, I'm looking for the bizarre. And, again, I find it quickly in what looks like a 10-foot-tall dragon or dinosaur, complete with claws and spiked tail. It's made entirely of scrap metal.
Indeed, all the art created by Allen and Teri Miles has a prehistoric/industrial feel. There's a piranha made partially of what looks like saw blades. And there's a chopper with real chompers courtesy of a large animal skull being used as the fuel tank.
"Our stuff can stay outside in all seasons," Allen Miles explains. You'd be hard-pressed to find a spot for it inside. On to the next fest.
Fest four: Ah, the Fine Craft Exhibition at the Oakbrook Center mall. I'm not sure it qualifies as a festival, but what the heck. Compared to the Wheaton and Naper Settlement fests, this is somewhat boring. Most booths display things you can find other places in the mall. Except for maybe the Herb Johnson booth displaying a giant metal hummingbird with jewel eyes gazing over a cache of metal daisies. There are metal dragonflies, fish and moths to match. I'm not sure why they appeal to me other than their rarity/oddity. I've found a new appreciation for heavy metal.
Fest five: It's well into the afternoon now, and I can't believe I haven't even seen a ridiculously large pile of greasy French fries yet, much less eaten one. So it's on to day three of Itasca Fest. When I arrive, I'm stunned. An entire line of food booths with no lines at all. Pulled pork sandwich, deep-fried chips and lemonade, here I come. Once done, one attraction draws me in. There are free stilt-walking lessons. The key is to keep your balance on a much narrower base than you're used to, with no help from your arms because you must hold onto the stilts. I do OK, but maybe Ishould've gone to the learn-to-make-giant bubbles tent instead. With all the reader e-mails I get about being full of hot air, I'd have natural talent. But the day is growing short. On to the next fest.
Fest six: At Summerfest in Glendale Heights, I follow the crowd to the source of audible laughter. Ah, yes. Teams of children are wearing helmets with cups glued to the top. Adults fill the cups with water and the kids walk a line and empty the cup into a bucket without removing the helmet. The result is lots of water on the kids, not so much in the buckets. There's nothing quite like watching adults laugh and point at kids to put the world in perspective. After laughing at the adults who are laughing at the kids, I decide it's time to wrap the fest-a-thon up with a grand finale.
Fest seven: The last fest is Glen Ellyn's inaugural jazz fest. It's been in the works for three years. With that much planning, I'm expecting something special. As I arrive, Paulinho Garcia and John Moulder are playing a Bossa Nova appropriate for their Brazilian style. Jazz fans have packed Main Street for a full downtown block.
As I sit and listen I decide the fest has a decidedly Ravinia feel to it, except there's asphalt under us instead of grass and table cloths instead of picnic blankets. It has a soothing impact, perfect to end the day.
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