Proud past, progressive future: Canton Labor Day celebrates 109 years
It is the heartbeat of a town and its people.
While some communities pride themselves on their Christmas, 4th of July or Memorial Day festivities, the town of Canton showcases Labor Day — a time every year when any and all cheer the workingman, the blue-collar nature of a place as special and unique as its inhabitants.
ALSO:
• Music lineup
• Memories for a lifetime
• In her own words
• So, why Canton?
This must be the place
With the cornfields as high as an elephant’s eye, apples just ripe for the pickin’ and the last of the August sunshine still warming our glorious souls, it’s also time to harvest the innumerable records that have recently hit shelves and eager ears, ready to strike a fire in your heart.
This must be the place
It was the line in the sand. During the summer of 2005, I left one existence and embraced another. In a three-month span, I weaved through tragedy, heartbreak, and foreign countries, all the while striking the depths of my soul as the epiphany of my fate revealed itself.
This must be the place
My eyes fluttered open and, for a moment, I didn’t know where I was.
The room was familiar. The sheets and blankets were the same. But I wasn’t. As I got out bed at my parent’s house, I realized it had been three years since I was living under this roof, and with one day until my return to Western North Carolina, it was still surreal to be here, and now, in my native Upstate New York.
This must be the place
I rolled the windows down and stuck my head out. The air was crisp and salty, with a slight hint of curious adventure. I was officially in Maine. Rolling back up the window, I turned to my parents, who had just picked me up at the Portland airport. We made small talk about how their vacation was going, how life is back home in Upstate New York, how my sister and little niece were doing.
This must be the place
It’s the only place I feel at home. The open road. Once it gets into your system, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to make sense of it. The highways, bi-ways and back roads in this country are the circulatory system of America, the blood pump and heartbeat of a hurried people on the move. It is the essence of humanity, for good or ill, and when you take that first journey away from familiarity, you’ll understand what cosmic discoveries lay just beyond the horizon.
This must be the place
I stopped going.
For the better part of the last decade, my life during the summer was music festivals. From Maine to California, Michigan to Arkansas, I was there, in an endless crowd, cheering on the greatest musicians of our time. In those innumerable moments, I felt more alive, at home, and at peace, than anywhere else in the world.
The Art of Faking It: Lip sync contests popular in Franklin
Sitting at a table at the Rathskeller Coffee Haus & Pub, Brittney Raby knows exactly what’s going to walk through the door shortly.
“Pure chaos,” she said. “And that makes it all the better.”
A spoonful of improv helps the glitches go down: Nimble feet are behind Folkmoot’s recipe for success
There’s a secret ingredient behind the bright lights, splashy costumes and glossy programs of Folkmoot: for every two parts planning, there’s one part improv.
This must be the place
Often times as a journalist, you just simply can’t get to everything.