On the drive towards Fayette County we saw a road runner, and then I slept in the car while we tried to beat the clock and arrive before the high sun hit the the top of the truck. We stopped at McDonald's so I could get a coffee, I asked for a small but the only sizes they had were medium or large.
The highway gave way to two lane roads and the houses became more spread apart- we went past an old gas station with a billboard above it that said, "JESUS," and then came to the church. American flags lined the road, and I saw a car on which someone had written, "Wendy Davis is my hero." We parked his truck under the shade of a tree, next to all the bigger trucks, and headed in to find his parents and grandparents.
We were given food tickets by his Mom, so we waited in line and were rewarded with a paper plate heaped with fried chicken, green beans, sauerkraut, beef stew, and german potatoes. Drink tickets were $2, and there were cases upon cases of Shiner Beer and Bud Light.
We ate our food, visited with his grandparents and extended family, and walked through the picnic. I grabbed this shot of the farm auction.
We also visited the dunk tank and ring toss, and Steven won a bottle of coke. Then, it was time for dancing.
The picnic area was filled to the brim with old folks and babies sharing picnic tables and folding chairs, and live Polka music filled the air for hours. There is a rich history of Eastern European immigration in Texas, and the culture continues to thrive. Kolaches abound in bakeries throughout the state, street names in the country make you feel like you are driving through the Czech countryside, and all the older folks know how to Polka.
Seriously, this is a thing! The best dancers were all over 70 years old, and they moved with the ease of partners who have known the joy of dancing for decades. Steven's grandparents, Ovella and Ermin, met in their twenties at a Polka dance, and have been married for 60 years.
So, I mustered up my courage and I hit the dance floor. I danced with Steven, his Mom, his brother, and his Uncle Lloyd. I polka danced, two-stepped, and waltzed. We listened to fabulous live bands, my favorite being the Djuka Brothers, known for their hit, "Grandpa Drank Too Much at the St. John's Picnic," and the iconic Shiner Hobo Band.
The Shiner Hobo Band was started following World War I by local soldiers recently returned, who longed to get back to playing that old time music. They decided to wear mismatched clothes with patches, the look has remained the same ever since. The band thrived until the 50's, and then slowly disbanded after the death of the director. In the mid eighties it was revived, and now includes up to 30 members, sporting accordions and guitars and suspenders, bringing the joy of Polka to folks here in Texas. The band member directing the song wields a sparkly toilet plunger, and everything is played from memory. It is, in short, a really good time.
The Shiner Hobo Band
After a few beers and a few hours of dancing we headed back to his Grandparent's house to watch The Coal Miner's Daughter and take a nap. We were back at the picnic that evening, for hamburgers and fireworks and more dancing. I took this picture of a hat in a car.
We checked out the church and cemetery, I marveled at all the Polish and Czech last names and looked out over the land adjacent to the church. Ermin grew up on the that land, 80 acres that is still being farmed today. He told us he was an altar boy, he would go to school and do his church duties, then hop under the fence and run home for supper. He knew a lot of the young men buried in the cemetery who died in World War II.
I wondered what it must be like for him- after growing up on the land, marrying and moving to Houston, he and Ovella returned years ago the countryside where they grew up, where all the roads are familiar and the history is so rich and so present. Of course things have changed, their friends have started to pass and they are not able to dance much anymore, but there is still so much joy in their lives.
By the time we finished our walk through the cemetery and I finished my ruminations on the nature of existence, I was full to bursting with food, beer, and good old Texas sunshine. We reveled in the early hours of the evening, and then the whole party walked toward the field to watch the fireworks brighten the starry sky.
I fell asleep exhausted and happy, with the quiet excitement of someone who has just had a great time at a party she hadn't known existed.
In the morning we rose early so I could get back to Austin to sell pies and sandwiches. Grandpa's pet jackrabbits were running through the field, which was golden under the weight of the morning. We ate a Kolache, packed up the purple truck, and were back on the road.
All in all, it was a lovely fourth of July, and maybe next year you'll find me in the same blue dress, dancing the polka to the Shiner Hobo Band.
