Early November and the Festival of St. Brice returns to Maury. You remember Brice, a man of less than saintly youth transformed into holier than most. Pretty much the same program this year as last, small carnival, rock band, mass, tea dance, kind of something for everyone.
The carnival was much the same outfit: bumper cars, merry-go-round, cotton candy, all a bit worn and a year older, just like the rest of us.
Different band this time: last year we had a group who played in their underwear, this year we had a fashion show courtesy of a band named California, who also played and sang some stuff for a very small crowd. Last year there was a cross section of the town’s population: babies who fell asleep, kids who chased around the hall, teenagers studiously ignoring the opposite sex, the kids’ parents and some older people who left early. This year seemed to be all teenagers: girls dancing with girls, boys standing around looking uncomfortable. It’s universal.
The band worked hard but few seemed to notice. My favorite part was when this young girl came out of the audience to belt out a song with a nice voice and strong stage presence.
After that, more costume changes, lighting effects and a cover of a Michael Jackson song. A friend mentioned that it felt like a rehearsal for a larger audience and maybe it was. There was a big lighting setup, at least five technicians out front working on sound and visual effects and more back stage, just too much for a free concert in a small town.
I skipped the mass and the tea dance and realized that two years of St. Brice was enough for me, my heart has left Maury and it’s time to move on.