For the last 66 years, as the apple trees bloom, my little town of Sebastopol, California hosts a ruckus festival and parade downtown and at Ives Park. Until recently, people were allowed to walk around with open containers of alcohol. While that is no longer permitted, heavy partying in the bars and at the park continues throughout the weekend. Sebastopol is a quarkly town that likes to do things their own way. Much of the proceeds to this annual event goes to our local schools. The Press Democrat photo above is from yesterday’s parade. Below is a poem I updated for the occasion.
The Apple Blossom Parade
In 1914,
The First Methodist Church,
with its bold wooden steeple,
was burnt to the ground,
for preaching prohibition.
The good folks,
of Sebastopol,
weren’t buying the sermons.
Today,
the Apple Blossom Parade,
marches past the rebuilt church,
past the Masonic Temple,
past Martha’s ol’ Mexico,
selling soup bowl Margaritas,
past the Old Main Street Saloon,
overflowing with bikers,
past Jasper O’ Farrell’s,
The Hopmonk Tavern,
The Greenhouse, and G.T.O’s,
with their bottomless Bloody Marys.
Yes, as the apple trees bloom,
once again the entire town,
including marching bands,
and dachshunds in costumes,
spill past the restaurants and bars,
into Ives Park,
for a two day party,
featuring Wonder Bread 5,
and six dollar beers.
All to support,
Analy Union High School.
No wonder,
Luther Burbank and Charles Schulz,
called Sebastopol their home.
And The First,
Methodist Church,
now made of stone,
is the only quiet place in town.
Hurricane Dean 