Visit the Delaware Saengerbund Oktoberfest

The countdown starts around June. My husband rummages though our closet and then finds his Oktoberfest hat. He dusts off the green felt, makes dure that his pins and feathers are in place, and then proceeds to drive me up the wall talking about the upcoming festival. He'll begin with discussing the International Beer Tent and all the specialty imports he'll get to try there and then he'll go on about the food, the rides, the Oompah Band, the food again, and the dancers and revelers en masse. It's harmless really and I'm glad that he gets excited. He's not a drop of German, but we've made him an honorary one because he's embraced the culture so well.

My only teensy, weensy complaint about my hubby's overwhelming enthusiasm for this most festive of occasions that is a yearly tradition for our family - it's not until September. I have to breathe, hear and anticipate Oktoberfest for three and a half months before we ever get in the car to drive the hour or so to Newark from New Jersey. Now please don't think I lack my husband's enthusiasm for this event - I've been attending most of my life, first with my parents and their friends in the 80's, now with my own family, but I prefer quiet, QUIET, anticipation - alas, my dearest hubby "waits" another way. C'est la vie.

On the day of the festival, we hop in the car and head down to Delaware. As we approach Salem Church Road off of Route279, Ryan (a.k.a. the overenthusiastic adopted German) asks me (as he does every year) "how will I know when to turn?" "Look for the crowds of people on the left," I say year after year, "and then you'll know."  I think his repetition of this question is all part of his "build-up" to the festivities, but it could just be a man-thing.