My father worked summers at the Catholic bazaar.
Every Pat in town played his guitar and sang Don
McLean. The old women baked pies and stayed out
of the heat. The sausages tasted like an idea, and the
rummage sale had 50 cent jewelry but it was
impossible to untangle. My father’s voice gave
announcements over the whole town. Pat Mary on
guitar, chicken dinners on the grill, a wooden duck is
the grand prize at the raffle. I went around in a bib
collecting tickets. When it came time to spin the prize
wheel, it’d be dark out. All the hopefuls would gather
around my father. And the person who heard their
name would come running toward that voice, waving
their ticket, feeling luckier than God.

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grace (ge) gilbert is the author of Holly (YesYes Books 2026).