Every year since I was six years old my family would go to the Apple Festival at Mill Neck Manor on Long Island which was always held on Columbus Day weekend. The Lutheran Friends of the Deaf purchased the estate and manor house in 1951 to turn it into a school for deaf children. The festival was a fundraising event and my school encouraged their student’s families to support it.
The property sits on a very lush and hilly ground not far from Oyster Bay. Almost every year from the time I went to first grade we’d get in Dad’s car and take a ride to buy apples and spend the day outdoors. As soon as we got there my mom would purchase tickets because that’s the only way you could buy anything. She’d buy a lot of apples and different varieties. Dad would always say “Elsa that’s enough” and she’d just fill up the little red wagon to overflowing as if he hadn’t uttered a word. When she was done buying apples, one of the students always helped to wheel the wagon to the car and load the trunk. She was always appreciative and tipped generously prompting Dad again “Elsa that’s too much.” Mom would just respond, “Oh Louie” with a hint of a chuckle.
Once that mission had been accomplished, we’d have a glass of frothy apple cider in exchange for some more of those tickets. Then I’d join in the game of rolling down the hill from the top where the Manor house sat to the bottom until somebody eventually dragged me away. By that time, my parents had bumped into family and friends, so we’d head over to the wooden tables and benches where we’d eat and drink for an hour or two.
The tickets now made their purchasing power ever stronger. Everyone got a few tickets and got on the lines for all kinds of yummy food: fresh corn on the cob, big soft pretzels with salt, bratwurst and hamburgers. Sitting under blue or cloudy skies it didn’t much matter when we were together sharing food and fun. Beer and singing greatly added to the laughter and merrymaking of the afternoon.
I cannot fail to mention and give high praise to Helmut’s Strudel. They brought portable ovens that churned out racks of Apple and Cheese strudel too hot, flaky and delicious to resist. Not only did we have some for dessert and to drink a nice cup of coffee, but my family always took some home for the next day. Once the air got a little too chilly, we’d say good-bye to the gang and head over to the car. It was a stroll full of last-minute farewells and hastily made plans for a future gathering. The ride home was spent looking out the window and admiring colorful leaves on the trees. All the while he drove on the expressway the October Sun was hitting him in the eyes, but he never wore sunglasses, just lowered the visor and complained a little.
Up until last year, some of my family and I were still enjoying that annual festival. Watching younger generations frolicking while the last of my parent’s generation lingered over the strudel and coffee felt good. Following in my Mom’s footsteps by getting enough apples to be able to give them to friends and neighbors brought me joy as I shared some moments recalling and recounting bits and pieces of the day. Instead of focusing on how sad it would be if this yearly tradition and outing now belongs to the past, I am going to cherish the smiles and laughter of those who came together to enjoy a harvest of way more apples than any one person could ever eat.
Yvonne A.
May 2021
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