Echoes of Summer Past: Local Residents Recall the Enduring Magic of Community Field Days

North Tonawanda – As summer unfolds and the familiar chorus of cicadas fills the air, many local residents find their thoughts drifting back to a cherished hallmark of simpler times: the annual community field day. These vibrant gatherings, often held in the empty fields behind local fire halls or church grounds, conjured a unique magic, transforming mundane spaces into beacons of childhood wonder and community spirit.

For generations, the arrival of Field Day was marked by the mysterious appearance of carnival rides.

"Every summer, a couple of weeks after school let out, we’d wait anxiously for the big truck haulers to rumble down the street, carrying colorful carnival rides," recalled one long-time resident, reflecting on the anticipatory thrill.

"They always seemed to arrive under cover of darkness... and by morning, that empty field behind the firehall had been transformed."

The sight of the Tilt-A-Whirl, Ferris Wheel, and Scrambler standing "like sentinels, blinking and gleaming in the sun," signaled the impending festivities. Accompanying the rides were the "carnies" – a mysterious, almost mythical group of individuals often viewed with a mix of fear and reverence by wide-eyed children.

"Strong and wiry, with long hair and tattoos, they looked dangerous to a couple of kids who knew they shouldn’t be sneaking around in the first place," the resident recounted, describing how children would watch from a distance as the crews deftly assembled booths and rides.

But beyond the glittering allure of the carnival, the field day was a testament to local volunteerism and community backbone. Volunteer firemen, sweating in the summer heat, would meticulously hammer together wooden game booths and hoist the canvas for the iconic beer tent – an adult mainstay of the event. While the setup felt like "F O R E V E R" to eager children, it set the stage for a weekend of fun.

The festivities often kicked off with a parade, a vibrant procession down main streets lined with families waving small American flags. Volunteer firemen from neighboring towns, including Martinsville and Wilson, marched with pride, representing a vital pillar of their community.

"My dad was a volunteer fireman... I remember countless interrupted dinners, the siren blowing, and Dad rushing out to help," shared the resident, highlighting the deep respect accorded to these dedicated individuals.

When the field day officially opened on Friday night, a palpable excitement filled the air. Children, armed with "pockets full of quarters we’d snitched from the kitchen till," would race to the grounds, often cutting across neighbors' backyards. In an era before cell phones, strict instructions to "stay together" were paramount as kids rode rides, tried their luck at coin tosses, hoping to win a prized goldfish, and reveled in newfound independence.

And then, there was the food – a sensory symphony that defined summer itself. "I can still smell the chowder cooking," the resident reminisced, listing the beloved fair staples: "Cotton candy. French fries. Fried dough. Fresh-squeezed lemonade... Hot dogs. Hamburgers. Italian sausage. Pizza. This was what summer tasted like."

Today, as many of those vacant lots and church fields have given way to modern developments, such as storage facilities, the golden era of the community field day, or "Lawn Fete" as some church fairs were known, has largely faded. Yet, the memories remain vividly intact.

"Now, when summer rolls in and the cicadas start their chorus, I still think of those simple field days at Rescue #5 or in the vacant lot across from St. Albert the Great church," the resident concluded. "The rides may be long gone, the booths packed away, but the magic never really left. It’s still there, settled into my memory, soft and comfortable."

For many, these events represented a simpler time of community meet-ups, where children explored with a fistful of coins. At the same time, adults gathered in the beer tent, a brief check-in with a parent's eye contact granted another hour or two of freedom. The sirens, the parades, the taste of fried dough – these echoes of the past serve as a reminder of a cherished era, a feeling of being young, barefoot in the grass, "with nothing ahead but a night full of lights and a pocket full of promises."