Many people travel to the mountains seeking second homes or a permanent place to live to call home. North Georgia and Western North Carolina have quaint towns such as Clayton, Ga; Lake Burton, Franklin, NC; Highlands, NC; Cashiers, NC; Otto, NC, and many other places to visit. The search is not the only thing they are looking for; they are looking for things to do, such as entertainment. Vignette Realty is an excellent source of information on local attractions and where to find the perfect home. If you're visiting this area, feel free to call us for recommendations on where to stay and what local events are happening there. After all, a home in the mountains is only a place to stay while your family enjoys what the mountains offer.
Festivals in the mountains have changed quite a bit, yet they are still among the best pastimes. I grew up in the mountains and remember many of the events held at the fairs. Unfortunately, many have been modified due to environmental, safety, and animal rights issues, which refer to the local population's changing demographics and cultural sensitivities. This change in values has led to the need for more inclusive and respectful events. Let's look back on how we used to do the fairs and festivals.
We never knew telephone poles caused cancer, pigs had feelings resulting in emotional damage, or the term' child endangerment' applied to letting a kid ride a bicycle 5 miles to the fair. Nor did we know fried food wasn't good for you or that suntan lotion, coconut oil, wouldn't protect you from the sun. At the county fair, you could get all of it in one dose, and we have never heard of the damage these 'sins' have caused due to the past lack of awareness and safety measures.
These festivals were not just about the people, art, and atmosphere but also about the sense of community they fostered. We used to create potential 'Hazards' unwittingly. The most significant event of the festival was the Greased Pig contest. It was the most thrilling event of the year, and I eagerly participated every year. They would fence off a few acres of partially grassed pasture, bring in a water truck, and make the area as muddy as possible. This sense of community, of everyone coming together for a shared experience, made these festivals special.
Once the festival workers set the stage with the correct mud and hay portions, they bathed a young pig in lard. This pig was so slippery no one could hold it. Had I known back then the emotional scars this young pig would incur, I may have hesitated on participating —for a minute. But the thrill of the chase, the camaraderie, and the sense of accomplishment were all part of the experience that I now look back on with fond nostalgia.
The master of ceremonies would then set the pig in the pasture and let it get comfortable in its new pen. After a bit, they would open the gates, and every child in the county would eagerly chase after them. The pig would squeal, dodge, and dart everywhere, leaving a field of muddied boys and girls in its wake. The thrill of the chase, the excitement of the pig's unpredictable movements, and the camaraderie among the children all added to the exhilarating experience.
Parents would be on the sidelines, smoking cigars, spitting tobacco, slipping a beer when they could, and proudly cheering their children on to win. Back then, they didn't have 10 places in the victory circle, and this, along with the emotional damage to the pig, could be why we no longer celebrate this sport. There was only one winner; however, everyone had consolation in the fact all the black eyes, busted lips, scrapped knees, and twisted ankles would be the only discussion at school on Monday. Looking back, I appreciate the lessons in sportsmanship and resilience that these events taught us. These events were not just about fun and games but also about learning important life lessons.
The men participated in the traditional Greased Pole contest, in which they took a telephone pole, buried it in the ground, and nailed a five-dollar bill to the top. Lard was not only a staple in our diet but, like Windex, worked its slippery magic on everything. Carefully, The fair workers would grease the telephone pole up. The first fifteen or twenty men wouldn't make it up five feet due to the quality of the grease job.
For some reason, women were not too excited about climbing the pole. No one would have bothered if one of the women wanted to try, but it wasn't appealing to them. As with the children, they would all get together and cheer on their favorite warrior.
As with the pig, the men wore the grease out over time on their clothes, with their wives slapping their foreheads over the mess and discussing what a clean-up job it would be. The progression continued higher and higher until someone captured the five-dollar bill at the crest of the pole.
The food was terrific—fried anything. You could choose from fried chicken, hot dogs, Okra, Onion Rings, Zucchini, and even fried butter! Ribs were the only item not fried!
The ribs were cooked overnight in a big cooker, basted in BBQ sauce, and served with the bones intact on two pieces of Wonder Bread. We would eat them like sandwiches, working our way around the bones and pulling them out of the bread when it was time.
As the sun was setting, peddling my bike back to the house on a long gravel road, mud from head to foot, hay sticking out of every pocket, stuck to the mud, tired and bruised, I was happy. Growing up in the country is the most rewarding gift a child will receive.
