Goodwater’s Fall Festival 2025: The pull of “home”
Special to the News
News from Goodwater
Goodwater stopped traffic on Saturday, November 8, for its annual Fall Festival. This was no small feat.
Alabama Highway 9, the main thoroughfare through town, was completely blocked off, rerouting the lumber trucks and campers that whiz through, usually without a sideways glance.
But they took notice that Saturday.
The event was organized by the indomitable Sharonna Hayes of Goodwater’s Youth Development and Recreation Center – one of the many powerhouse women in Goodwater I’ve had the privilege to meet.
Even the rain held off, holding space and time for the festivities. Main Street was lined with vendors selling everything from delicious food and baked goods to clothes and handmade crafts. Music filled the air as various groups performed, and an old-fashioned cake walk was held. And of course, there was the kids’ zone with its main attraction – a bounce house.
When I’d asked Ms. Hayes where she needed volunteers most, she said the bounce house. I soon understood why.
This was the big attraction in the kids’ zone, and my co-volunteer and I were swamped, trying to wrangle the big kids out while the smaller ones jumped inside. By the end of the day, needless to say, all kids were jumping together.
A young child, tired of jumping for a moment, held up his arms for me to pick him up. He didn’t know me from Adam, but I was a big person in Goodwater. I guess that meant I was safe to him. I held him close, wiped his eyes and nose, until he squirmed in my arms and pointed back to the bounce house.
Crying soon erupted from inside, and a bigger kid handed out a smaller one. Two tear stains streaked through the newly painted Spider Man mask he’d just shown me with pride. But his joy had taken a sorrowful turn, and again, a child huddled into me, a complete stranger, seeking and finding comfort.
I couldn’t help but wonder if this would happen anywhere but small town America. Would unknown adults suddenly be entrusted with caring for the smallest, most vulnerable members of one’s family? Or maybe here, everyone is family.
As the day progressed, the sense of community and togetherness was palpable. And I started to understand, in a way I don’t think I fully had before, the draw that pulls people back here. They know what I know despite all the naysayers: this town is special.
As I zipped up the flap of the bounce house for the one hundredth time, a woman in front of me tried to remember if someone was her second or third cousin. It seems that just about everyone in Goodwater is related in one way or another, either by blood or acquaintance.
Maybe this is what creates the sense of safety and community here. Maybe this creates the love and kinship that keeps calling the people of Goodwater back “home,” just as it did for me.
On this day, I was reminded of how strong and resilient the people of this community are. They’ve had to be. Their town is still here despite decades of mismanagement and neglect – and despite the systemic causes of decline that are so often overlooked by those ready to cast judgment. It’s much easier to blame the current residents than to take a deep dive into the complex issues that have obliterated small rural towns throughout the American South.
As 2025’s Fall Festival wound to a close, I couldn’t help but think that by closing Highway 9 Goodwater, in some small way, had reclaimed its agency; it had taken back its power.
“You’ll have to go around today,” the town said. There is fun and celebration to be had, and you’re welcome to join us, but there’s no speeding through. Not today. For Goodwater is here, declaring its presence and its ever-present spirit.
