It was my husband's first visit to this event and while we weren't crazy about all the commercialized booths with cheap trinkets, there was still that festive mood in the air and you could smell kettle corn popping and funnel cakes frying. Young ladies were walking around the some 60,000 people passing out samples of grapefruits, pecan brittle and all sorts of cakes. The Mule Day parade was the highlight of the day with mules of all sizes, shapes and colors, donned in hats, overalls and gold bells, marching galliantly down the center of the small community highway. Two local high school bands marched proudly playing their instruments and as they passed, I turned to my husband and said, "This is what America is really all about......" I stood a little prouder as they passed our way with the American flag waving in the sunshine. For this little community, it wasn't about the president or about politics. It wasn't about religion or race. It was about the celebration of a hard working animal that plowed the fields and pulled buggys when times were hard.
On the way back to our car, after I helped an 80 year old lady make a rope from scratch, my husband asked, "Where do we go next weekend?" I had to think a minute and then remembered the little town of Alapaha where the fried apple tarts were the best we'd ever tasted. On Mule Day it wasn't about the biscuit with sugary syrup dripping off the sides, it was about being with someone I loved on a beautiful day, walking arm in arm in the glorious sunshine and the ride back home with the windows down.
