Death and taxes, they’re always around, always will be. Peach Blossom Festival, same way.
But, believe it or not, the southern bubba who wrote this column had never heard of the thing until last week. Wow, some of us really are ignorant!
I was beyond skeptical. Was the Central Valley trying to take away my state’s title crop? Did I need to call up Governor Purdue and tell him what them crazy left-coasters were up to!?
“She’s as sweet as a Central Valley peach” doesn’t have the same ring to it. Besides, what kind of big event out here gets by without a casino sponsorship?
It turns out I was overreacting. There are no peaches or blossoms involved, but rather 6,000 little kids invading campus to read poetry.
Only in Fresno.
Looking through The Collegian archives I couldn’t find out why they call it the Peach Blossom Festival. Mostly I found a bunch of self-centered articles about how annoying it is to dodge kids on the way to class.
My curiosity piqued, I investigated by shadowing my friend Anisha Jamnadas, who was a judge.
Anisha told me the kids that come, are typically the smartest kids in the Valley, and she said, “Yea, they want us to be like, ‘Fresno State is awesome! It’s so fun here!’” She also said that the “judges” were only allowed to make positive comments.
Call me a bad user of similes, but that smells more like a hidden agenda than a peach.
Anyway, the kids came into the room accompanied by a few teachers and parents. Rushing over to the second-story window, one of them yelled out, “We’re on top of the world!” Another joked, “What if the building collapses!?”
The kids recited various poems by Shel Silverstein (a personal favorite) and other children’s authors. Many giggled nervously, some mumbled their poems unintelligibly, one even cried. One boy went stone-cold silent when it was his turn. He gave up and sat down in his seat, but regained courage a few minutes later and recited his poem.
I’ll admit it, I was cheering in the press box.
The last participant of the morning stole the show. Walking up front with no inhibition, she excitedly told the room that her poem could be rapped, but that she would just recite it.
She did so with hand motions and confidence, drawing the biggest applause of the morning by far. In a more cynical world we would say she “had the best performance.”
A few minutes later her father walked in and they performed an encore. He beat-boxed while she gave in and rapped; and it was awesome. I had witnessed the perfect example of what a father should be.
Say what you will about the festival, but never underestimate the importance of parenting. Not a single child in that overachieving room was overweight, and there were as many dads present as there were moms.
Just something to think about while you dodge kids on your way to class today.