Cynicism can ruin a lot of things, but it is very important that we don’t allow it to do so. Those of you that live in Silver City may or may not know that this weekend marked the 37th annual Great American Duck Races in Deming, NM, my hometown. This event, not unlike Silver City’s own Blues Festival or WNMU’s Great Race, occurs every year and offers a weekend of food and fun for the people of Deming and the surrounding area. The event includes a pageant, a parade, a carnival and of course, duck racing. It’s said that the idea was formed by three men in a bar, pondering over ways to boost tourism to Deming, New Mexico. If that’s the case, it’s been a spectacular success.
My own family has had a long history with the duck races. Both of my brothers can be seen leading the Deming High School band’s percussion section during the Duck Race Parade, while pictures of my girlfriend Kat are often used as the featured image on the schedule for performers and musical acts. Members of her family are also frequent participants in many Duck Race activities, including the Duck Pageant and the Tortilla Toss. Kat also fondly remembers racing ducks. Whenever the Duck Races come around, both of us are always certain to attend.
This year, Kat and I took a break from our typical routine and decided to attend the Duck Race carnival on a Friday night, as opposed to our usual post-parade Saturdays. I’ve never been able to explain it, but I’ve always enjoyed being out on Friday nights during and around the autumn months, regardless of whether it’s for community events or football games.
However, when we first arrived at the courthouse park in the early evening, and we began strolling around the park and taking everything in, I quickly found how easy it was to be cynical. The carnival was far smaller than it had been in previous years, and the vender’s prices had only gone up. There weren’t as many people around and, worst of all, the beer garden was closed!
It wasn’t long before Kat and I decided to take a seat on some bleachers by the duck pens so that we could eat and wait for some of our friends to arrive. As Kat sipped an horchata and told stories about duck races past, I watched as a group of kids hung out by the duck pens, trying to, um, “play” with the ducks. It wasn’t an uncommon thing to see. In fact, there was once a young, future Mustang editor who nearly lost a finger while trying to play with the ducks.
Kat remembered a time where she, along with a group of friends, had gone to the duck race carnival after school. They had ended up blowing all of their money on food and spent the evening sitting at the bleachers by the duck pen eating, just as we were. After she finished her story, a group of high school girls wandered past us, almost on cue. They’d probably just gotten out of school as well.
Not long afterward, Kat and I decided to check out the carnival and get on some of the rides. The sun had finally set and the park was really starting to fill up. Unfortunately there were only a few rides that “big kids” like my girlfriend and I could go on: the Ferris wheel, a single roller coaster and a couple of rotors. (Rotor is the official term for rides that spin. I never knew that.)
While checking out some of the rides, I saw another common site at the duck races: multi-generational families. Parents, grandparents and children can almost always be seen attending the carnival together. It reminded me of how my own grandparents used to come down from California to see my brothers march in the parade and later attend the carnival with my family.
This family was related to Kat, and she usually only saw them around the holidays. This is another common thing that happens at the duck races: with the whole community coming out to attend, you could often find yourself re-united with friends and family that you haven’t seen in awhile. More than once I’ve seen people at the duck races that I haven’t seen since elementary school.
As the night went on, my initial feelings of cynicism were soon replaced with a feeling of comfort. Sure the carnival seemed to grow smaller each year and everything was more than a little pricey, but there was just something nice about being there.
The Great American Duck Races have an almost timeless feel to them. You will always spot a group of kids learning the hard way that ducks are not to be trifled with, or a group of high school girls wandering the park, looking for something to do. You will always see at least three generations of family enjoying the festivities together, and you will sometimes spot old friends and loved ones re-united.
This is why traditions like this are important, and why we shouldn’t let feelings of cynicism prevent us from enjoying them. It’s the time spent with loved ones and the memories that you share with them that make traditions like the Great American Duck Races worth enjoying.
That’s all I have for this editorial. Thanks for reading and see you next time!
Eric
