http://gingerbreadcastlelibrary.com Children, Commerce, Community and Culture Sun, 23 Dec 2012 22:53:04 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.4.1 http://gingerbreadcastlelibrary.com/about-this-project/#comment-34 sherry hulings Wed, 09 May 2012 10:49:20 +0000 http://gingerbreadcastlelibrary.com/?page_id=24#comment-34 During a side trip visit to the town, my parents wanted to take photos of the Gingerbread Castle to prove that, yes, there indeed is a technicolor castle, a big one with a witch. As we passed certain streets close to the location, I told them the place was called Yellow City. As a kid, I'd heard Dutch immigrants had lived there or had been quarantined there due to some bad disease like typhoid. I had gone on a bike ride with friends who lived at that end of town years earlier and the residents of YC looked quite poor. I thought the buildings were interesting, like from another era. The Castle was still open to sightseers but my parents were forbidden to take pictures. I had a tiny camera on me and while that discussion was in play with the manager or owner, I took pictures of carousel horses, displays, no one knowing. Driving to the exit I asked my Dad to stop, took their camera and ran back to the icon of my youth--which, believe this or not, many kids had snuck inside at night. Not to steal or vandalize--it was an honor to win a dare by much older kids who bragged their brave trespasses but probably never really acted them out. For 35 years, in the original frame, my Gingerbread Castle picture looks as good as any professional shot. It was the only one I could take, on a run back to the car--that manager had chased me, yelling that I had to hand over my film and I was breaking the law. I was too far ahead of him, jumped in the back seat and when my father sped up, I yelled out a woman's name from my window. That man had already stopped running but looked stunned. During it's hiatus, there was more than a witch peeping out the window or creeping round those floors. Like night and day, blight and beauty, that pleasing storybook symbol has a few more shady tales to unveil and perhaps, this little crumb I purposefully set out will be picked up by someone else, with their own secret to reveal. I suppose this message will be pulled or rejected. Understandable, for truth can sometimes tarnish a legacy needing or going through renovation. Like Yellow City? During a side trip visit to the town, my parents wanted to take photos of the Gingerbread Castle to prove that, yes, there indeed is a technicolor castle, a big one with a witch. As we passed certain streets close to the location, I told them the place was called Yellow City. As a kid, I’d heard Dutch immigrants had lived there or had been quarantined there due to some bad disease like typhoid. I had gone on a bike ride with friends who lived at that end of town years earlier and the residents of YC looked quite poor. I thought the buildings were interesting, like from another era.
The Castle was still open to sightseers but my parents were forbidden to take pictures. I had a tiny camera on me and while that discussion was in play with the manager or owner, I took pictures of carousel horses, displays, no one knowing. Driving to the exit I asked my Dad to stop, took their camera and ran back to the icon of my youth–which, believe this or not, many kids had snuck inside at night. Not to steal or vandalize–it was an honor to win a dare by much older kids who bragged their brave trespasses but probably never really acted them out.
For 35 years, in the original frame, my Gingerbread Castle picture looks as good as any professional shot. It was the only one I could take, on a run back to the car–that manager had chased me, yelling that I had to hand over my film and I was breaking the law. I was too far ahead of him, jumped in the back seat and when my father sped up, I yelled out a woman’s name from my window. That man had already stopped running but looked stunned. During it’s hiatus, there was more than a witch peeping out the window or creeping round those floors. Like night and day, blight and beauty, that pleasing storybook symbol has a few more shady tales to unveil and perhaps, this little crumb I purposefully set out will be picked up by someone else, with their own secret to reveal.
I suppose this message will be pulled or rejected. Understandable, for truth can sometimes tarnish a legacy needing or going through renovation. Like Yellow City?

]]>