As far back as I can remember — which, if ya must know, was right after Ike took office (Eisenhower, not Turner) — there were three focal town-wide events. They were Winter Carnival, Memorial Day and Fourth of July.

Each holiday was chock-full of activities that ran the gamut from the profound (the Memorial Day ceremony in Riverside Park) to the ridiculous (The Brothers of the Bush’s boozy beard judging after Winter Carnival parade), from the delightful (the tykes’ speedskating races in WC) to the near-deadly (July 4 canoe jousting on Lake Flower). But — to me at least — THE two premier yearly events were the WC Friday night pub crawls and the July 4 Hanmer canoe races.

Times change, and so do the events. Take the pub crawls. Back then, Carnival was from Thursday to Sunday. Beyond that, drinking was part and parcel of society (just check old-time movies) and had neither the stigma nor knowledge about it we now have. Plus, My Home Town had bars a-plenty — 39 in 1968, which in a town of 7,000 probably rivaled Ireland’s pubs-to-people ratio … if it doesn’t beat it.

So we, and Winter Carnival, have moved on to a longer, more family-involved-but-just-as-much-fun time. And as Carnival evolved, other events DE-volved. Memorial Day is a shadow of its former self, and so is July Fourth. Most noticeable are the parades. Both used to be hugely populated — both with participants and spectators. Now they, like the rest of us, are half the men our fathers were.

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Hanmer races past and present

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My favorite July Fourth event was always the Hanmer races. I never participated in them, but I didn’t have to in order to enjoy them. The turnout was huge. Each class of racers had a wealth of participants, who of course shlepped along their friends and family. And then there were the spectators, who lined the route all the way to the finish line at the Fish and Game Club.

Since I never canoed, I didn’t really care about any of the competitions. But given my inner clown nature, the Rub-a-Dub class was my rave-fave. They were the peeps who were there for one reason only — to have fun. And have fun they did, with costumes, decorations, and hootin’ and hollerin’. One of my fondest memories was the Rub-a-Dub of ’78, specifically the Bevilacqua/Morgan entry. In addition to pre-gaming to beat the band, their stop for refueling at the Dew Drop Inn porch has been seared in my memory.

The get-together at the Fish and Game Club was huge, the grounds covered with booths and people galore. I’ve no way to verify it, but I’d bet the number of peeps there was second in size only to the old-time parade crowds. Certainly the parked cars took up every available space on the club’s grounds and spilled out on both sides of Route 3 as far as the eye could see.

But for a multitude of reasons beyond the scope of this column, the races, to quote Dizzy Dean, slipped and slud, eventually dying out completely. Because it lost its cool incrementally, by the time it was gone-gone-gone, people either no longer remembered what a huge event it’d been or no longer cared. Except for two people — the mother-daughter go-getter team of Sue Dyer and Kathy Dyer-Nogales.

Last year, those two, through hard work, persistence and sheer old-fashioned chutzpah, brought the Hanmer race back. And did a great job of it. But I wondered if this year’s race could live up to the previous one. As it turned out, I need not have worried one little bit.

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Let the early bird KEEP the worm

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First, a note of clarification about the race itself and me. Normally, I might go to a canoe race for a while, but it’s not something that really holds my interest. However, the Hanmer started at 10 — and that’s 10 a.m.!

If anyone knows anything about me, it’s that I hate mornings. Or more exactly, I like mornings … as long as I’m sleeping through them. For the 45 years I spent as a ditty-chaser in This Man’s Navy and as a teacher at Paul Smith’s College, I got up early — sometimes ridiculously so. And while I hated it, I never complained because it was part and parcel of my job. Once I retired, however, sleeping late became the order of the day, and if ya must know, the later the better. Generally, given that I hit the hay around 0200 and wake up at around 0930, I’m neither willing nor able to leave my house till one o’clock or so.

So to watch a canoe race any time before then, let alone at 10? Lemme put it to you this way: If I heard the highlight of the Hanmer would be a two-boat war canoe race, with Jesus and the apostles in one boat and Lord Krishna and the gopis in the other, I’d wait till it came out on YouTube.

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A merry mob

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But the race itself was always only one part of the event. Sure, to the participants it was a big deal, but others of us (me especially) looked forward not to the race but to the get-together at the Fish and Game Club.

Much to my surprise and delight, when I drove up to the club cars were parked on both sides of the road, which made me think this year’s race was a smashing success. And when I walked onto the club’s grounds, that thought was confirmed: The place was jammed putz-to-butts with racers, spectators, vendors, hangers-on, hangers-out, all of them having a ball.

I was in my element, getting to rap with my pals, many of whom I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Before I even got to the main grounds, I ran into my fellow yellow journalist, Lynda Gardner Peer, who’s always a treat to visit with. After we parted, I wended my way to the Elks Club’s barbecue. Among that crew were Ron Bowler, Joe and Sherrie Fisher, and Lynda’s worse half, Bill Peer. They were barbecuing up a storm — literally: They did so much grilling and flooded the joint with so much smoke, I dubbed their activity Li’l Quebec. Donning my KN95, I soldiered on …

Sitting at the Elks’ picnic table scarfing what looked like dee-licious fare was another bunch of my buds: Liz Scammell-Murray and her husband Ray, Marilyn Bigelow and my former high school stalker Sally Burrell Stephenson. We chatted for a bit, then I had to move on after I noticed Kelly Morgan womaning the Woman’s Civic Chamber table. And the reason I had to move on was because the Women’s Civic Chamber was selling baked goods.

After Kelly and I shot the breeze, I scored two goodies — an apple-cinnamon square and a crumb cake square. I figured I’d take a nibble of the apple-cinnamon and then save the rest of it, and the crumb cake, for when I got home. I figured wrong. One thing led to another, as it does when the Dope meets baked goods, and within mere minutes the only thing left of those two yummies were their wrappers.

I wandered around some more, chatted with Robbie Gillis a bit, then ran into two shayna maydels: Jordanna Mallach, town supervisor; and Dr. Nina Schoch, town loon-a-tic. Then it was off to give a listen to the music.

What music, you ask?

The ADK Players, that’s what music. They’re a trio, two of whom are fellow ADE hacks, Peter Crowley and Lauren Yates. Their third member is Joe Waters. They were fun to listen to, but fun aside, Lauren Yates has a beautiful voice and knows how to use it to her best advantage, which made her and the group the highlight of my visit.

Then, having had my share of sweets, shmoozing and smoke inhalation, I called it a day and headed out.

I’ll say this about the Willard Hanmer Guideboat, Canoe and Kayak Races: Sue and Kathy are really gonna have to bust hump to make next year’s race bigger and/or better. I’ll also say I’ll give 10-to-one odds they’ll succeed.