Heritage Fair: Out of the ICU

Thanks to the continued support from Weis supermarkets and the new commitment of a Catonsville-based funeral home, Heritage Fair officials have decided there’s enough initial interest to revive the Heritage Fair for this year.

Dundalk Heritage Fair Association executive director Mark Krysiak announced Wednesday that enough pieces of the fair puzzle had come together, filling some holes that previously had doomed the event just short of its 50th anniversary.

In a letter published on the association’s Facebook page, Krysiak credited longtime donor Weis and new supporter MacNabb Funeral Home and Cremation Society of Maryland, as well as a new groundswell of volunteer interest, as the catalysts for ensuring at least one more year of the venerable celebration.

“We will once again be celebrating the 4th of July in Dundalk with a fair,” he announced in the letter. “The 50th Dundalk Heritage Fair will take place July 4, 5 and 6, 2025.”

In addition to corporate sponsorship, Krysiak credited the “patriotism and community spirit of the people of Dundalk." The committee’s initial decision to cancel the fair “clearly undervalued the tenacity of this wonderful group of people,” he wrote in his letter.

With great progress being made recruiting financial sponsors and volunteers, Krysiak said the “third leg” of the fair stool would be fair-goers: “Now we need to bring in the crowds.”

The fair, first staged in 1976 as the community’s celebration of the nation’s bicentennial, was never intended to be an annual event. It was organized as a one-time affair for that special summer. But it was so popular and well-received that organizers threw another one and another until it was part of Greater Dundalk’s landscape; a part of its very identity.

Over the years, big-name entertainment shared stages with local night club circuit bands, recreation council dancers and high school steel drummers. While country music band Shenandoah performed on the main stage, Uncle Dave could take the microphone in the karaoke garden. Boy Scouts pitched tents, crafters sold their hand-made wares, non-profits sold pizza and snowballs to fund their programs and squealing pigs raced around a course to the delight of similarly squealing children.

But much like their affect on the human body, so too did time and other elements take their toll on the fair. For way too many years now, the three-day holiday weekend seems to be a sure bet for bad weather. Not just Florida-like afternoon showers but torrential downpours resulting in park damages and power outages. Who can forget the derecho of 2012? The powerful, hugely destructive, fast-moving storm swept through Dundalk June 29 and 30, resulting in severe damage to trees and equipment at Heritage Park, as well as taking out all power. While the derecho is an extreme example of bad weather, the fair has suffered more than its fair share of weather-related closures.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts performed at the 2012 Heritage Fair.
Photo by Marge Neal

In his letter of April 4, in which he announced the cancellation of this year’s and all future fairs, Krysiak cited the cumulative effects of weather and COVID-19, decreased attendance and fewer financial supporters as the collective reasons for the death of the event.

Public outcry and promises to help inspired Krysiak to hold what he called a town hall meeting. The meeting was used to provide a comprehensive and transparent explanation of the expenses of throwing such a party, as well as brainstorming ways to bring in new sponsors and volunteers.

After the meeting, Krysiak announced that if $20,000 could be raised in the next week, the committee would bring the fair back to life. The total budget for the fair is about $280,000, he said.

The “tremendous outpouring of support” shown through social media posts, online fundraisers and meeting attendance were enough to bring the fair back to life.

The committee is back, hard at work, and invites everyone to “join us for the best 4th of July celebration ever!”

To get involved:

For more information, contact Heritage Fair executive director Mark Krysiak at mkrysiak@dundalkheritagefair.com or 410-440-4907.

Volunteers are asked to send their contact information to mgielner@dundalkheritagefair.com.

Donations are being accepted via Venmo and PayPal and a GoFundMe account has been set up.

Physical checks can be sent to Dundalk Heritage Fair, P.O. Box 4022, Dundalk, MD 21222.

Is there a problem here?

I recently followed with great amusement an online conversation that played out on a Facebook community page.

A local gentleman indignantly proclaimed how irate he was over an experience he suffered at a local diner. He apparently was greatly damaged when a server said “no problem” in response to his “thank you” for some aspect of his dining experience. He was so angry at what he considered an inappropriate response that he gave the server a piece of his mind. The only acceptable responses were “you’re welcome” or perhaps “my pleasure,” he told the server. He apparently caused a scene, asked to talk to a manager and was ultimately asked to leave the establishment.

To say the comment did not get the Facebook response he expected is an understatement. I guess he expected folks to “tsk tsk” these darn rude youngsters today who show no respect for their elders, peers or the English language. Instead, people pretty much jumped down his throat, told him to get a grip and opined that “no problem” has indeed become an often-used, totally acceptable response to “thank you.” They not-so-politely told the guy he needed to get a life.

Then, the post took on another life, with commenters encouraging support of the diner and the server, who was ultimately identified as a popular, more-than-competent, pleasant, longtime server at the establishment. A movement grew to patronize the diner and request the server with the intent to leave extra hefty tips.

Facebook photo

“No problem” became a battle cry of sorts, with the phrase being worked into almost every angle of the discussion. Even diner management got in on the action. Someone published a picture of the diner’s sign that was emboldened with “no problem” among the other messages on its marquee.

When you really stop and think about it, "no problem" as a response to "thank you" makes more sense than "you're welcome." Welcome is a greeting of sorts, meant to make someone feel at home, comfortable, or perhaps part of the crowd. "You're welcome here" means this is a safe place for you and we're happy to have you here. We're glad to see you. "Welcome" is more appropriate at the front door than it is in response to being thanked for something. In my opinion, of course. "No problem," on the other hand, conveys that the person provided the service, product or help with ease and that it wasn't an issue. It was a service performed gladly.

In Googling the word welcome, and the whole thank you/you're welcome relationship, I came across a list of 17 alternative ways to respond to "thank you." Take a wild guess what number one on the list is!

There are many ways to respond to "thank you!"

Over the years, I admit to disliking certain phrases that morphed their way into common usage. One of my peeves is "have a good one." That phrase evolved from "have a good day." I never understood replacing a definitive one-syllable word with a vague, meaningless one-syllable word. The speaker certainly isn't saving any energy and is instead being less communicative. A good what? A good lunch? Trip? Luck? Bowel movement? Is it so damn hard to say "have a good day?"

Fortunately, thoughts in my mind rarely pass through my lips, and I am grateful that mind police don't yet exist (though I'm sure someone is working on it). I have a couple of like-minded word nerd friends and we routinely trade screen shots of horrible grammar, bastardized English and 500-word rants with absolutely no punctuation. We joke, privately tsk tsk and move on. I never rag on anyone in public, nor do I have the need to correct anyone in conversation. It is not my place to tell anyone else how they should talk.

In the case of the gentleman at the Boulevard Diner, we'll never know what possessed him to believe he could lecture a fellow human on what she could or could not say. Being tossed out of the restaurant should have been his first clue that he was out of line, and he could have let the issue die there. But he apparently felt so sure he was right that he sought solace and support from his Facebook community. When that blew up in his face, he left the group and disappeared into the online abyss.

But his indignant rant provided fun entertainment and some community bonding.  Over the next several days, numerous residents made new posts, proclaiming that they had enjoyed a lovely dining experience at the Boulevard Diner with “no problem.” The phrase was worked into many original posts and almost all comments. It also appears to have provided a financial windfall for the server and a ton of free publicity for the diner.

I’m keeping an eye out for the T-shirt!

Heritage Fair: To do or not to do?

 After several years of struggling with horrible weather, the aftermath of COVID, fewer (and aging) volunteers and decreased attendance, Heritage Fair organizers announced earlier this month they have decided to call it quits. The three-day festival that debuted in 1976 to celebrate the nation’s bicentennial would die two events shy of celebrating the semiquincentennial next summer.

I’m sure the volunteer staff did not make that decision lightly. But sometimes, the writing is on the wall and it just needs to be read. The fair doesn’t just happen overnight. Organizing, planning, scheduling, recruiting, obtaining legal advice, entertainment contracts, electrical upgrades, equipment rentals, outreach to local organizations and businesses — all of this takes place pretty much around the calendar. 

In a good year, the fair makes enough to bank some cash to use as seed money the following year. In years of devastating weather (which seems to be an automatic given of late) and other calamities, the decreased income puts the event in a financial hole for the next year.

Heritage Park all dressed up for the fair.
Photo courtesy of Dundalk Heritage Fair Association Facebook page.

Volunteers play a huge role in staging the fair, from erecting fences, staffing ticket booths and manning phones to emptying trash cans, troubleshooting problems and providing eyes and ears in all corners of Heritage Park.

Every year, the committee puts out the call for volunteers and requests donations from individuals and businesses alike. Every penny helps, and $5 donations are just as appreciated as the big corporate bucks. And every year, it gets harder and harder to get volunteers to commit to the tough behind-the-scenes work required to stage a production as complicated as Heritage Fair. Many of the “young” volunteers are in their 50s, while any originals still involved are much older.

When I wrote for The Dundalk Eagle, we routinely published stories detailing the intricacies of staging the event. We usually highlighted the fencing crew, a group of guys who took a week of their vacation time to dig post holes and run chain-link fencing around the perimeter of Heritage Park. Much of the work involved in staging the festival is far from glamorous. Folks volunteer from the heart and not for accolades.

So this year, after several years of literally getting washed out by torrential thunderstorms, the committee made the painful decision to pull the plug.

And in somewhat predictable behavior, Greater Dundalk keyboard warriors clutched their collective pearls and cried out about the proposed demise. They chimed in with comments like “Why didn’t they ask for help first?” “Why wait until so late to ask for help?” “Why weren’t we told?” “Why are we just finding out about this?"

You get the picture. A few people took it even further, with one guy basically proclaiming himself the leader of a new effort to stage the festival so the community wouldn’t lose such an important landmark event. Several people took it upon themselves to solicit donations, arrange fundraisers and ask for suggestions for a new event. These people were going to go to the county executive and the county councilman to demand this not be canceled, not realizing, of course, that the fair, while it depends on some county services and utilizes a county park and school property, is not a government function.

Seeing the level of renewed, potential volunteer interest, fair organizers set up a community meeting to communicate needs, gauge interest and discuss the possibility of keeping the event alive. Executive director Mark Krysiak published a notice that was shared extensively on social media, and lots of people said they would be there.

The meeting was held April 17. That afternoon, the excuses began to roll in on social media. Citing one reason or another, many of the more vocal residents weren’t going to be able to attend after all. Would it be live-streamed? Would it be taped?

On April 18, committee members posted about the meeting and said that, while attendance wasn’t what they were expecting, based on online chatter, it was a start. The message essentially is that if $20,000 can be raised in the next week, they’ll give it a go.

But the keyboard warriors went at it again, full of suggestions that just show they have no idea how expensive it is to run such an event. One poster said there should be no entry fee and carnival rides should be free. One guy just doesn’t understand why, if $20,000 is raised by the community, anyone should have to pay to get in. The $20K should cover everything, he said.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say $20K might pay the electric bill. Or maybe the portable toilet bill. Again, just guessing, but I’d say the overall budget for the fair as it has existed in the past is well north of $200,000. I won’t bore you with the list of obvious and not-so-obvious expenses, but anyone with experience mounting large-scale special events is smiling and nodding their heads right now.

Online suggestions (again, from people who didn’t attend the meeting) were along the lines of more, more, more, while not wanting to pay for anything. Bring back the crafter tents, have more and better carnival rides, offer more games and activities for kids, lower food prices (which is totally out of the committee’s hands), lower vendor fees, bring in food trucks (speaking of way over-priced food!), have a petting zoo, have a bingo tent. Some good ideas, but all increase the need for more money, more space, more volunteers and more planning and logistics time and expertise. To say nothing of the fact the fair, if it happens, is now a mere 10 weekends away.

If the committee and the community are serious about wanting to preserve the would-be 49-year-old event, perhaps the answer is to scale back a bit this year. Offer a two-day event (Saturday and Sunday) with perhaps one less stage; recruit volunteers and sponsors; and use this year’s (smaller) fair as a laboratory to educate and train new volunteers so they have a true awareness of and appreciation for the effort that goes into throwing such a huge party. (I dare say the folks who camp out at the beer garden for the duration have no idea the hours and sweat equity their neighbors invest to give them that opportunity).

Then, with a solid roster of committed volunteers and a head start on fundraising, go all out on next year’s shindig for that big semiquincentennial.

And if it’s necessary, the 50th anniversary would be an admirable time to call it quits.

To get involved:

If you’re serious about putting your muscle and/or money where your keyboard is, contact Heritage Fair executive director Mark Krysiak at mkrysiak@dundalkheritagefair.com or 410-440-4907.

Volunteers are asked to send their contact information to mgielner@dundalkheritagefair.com.

Donations are being accepted via Venmo and PayPal and a GoFundMe account has been set up.

Physical checks can be sent to Dundalk Heritage Fair, P.O. Box 4022, Dundalk, MD 21222.

A life well-lived

In this day and age, very little news takes my breath away. I’ve become numb to most of it and, since retiring from the news business, I don’t go out of my way to seek it out. Mindless cable networks like Ion and StartTV have become my best friends, providing the company of background noise in my otherwise quiet living space.

So when I heard of the sudden death of Costas Triantafilos, my heart literally skipped a beat. I was scrolling through email when I saw a TV station message with just a partial headline visible in the subject box. Clicking on it delivered the news that Mr. Costas, as he was affectionately known to me and countless others, had died in a suspected carbon monoxide incident, and his wife, Miss Mary, was hospitalized in critical condition.

Costas and Mary Triantafilos. Photo courtesy of Triantafilos family/Facebook.

Mr. Costas and Miss Mary own the venerable Costas Inn, a landmark restaurant and pub on North Point Boulevard in Dundalk. Known for its steamed crabs and jumbo lump crab cakes, its live music scene and its warm, welcoming ambiance, the eatery is a family affair for the Triantafilos family, as well as a home away from home for countless customers who became extended family.

Upon hearing of the death of the beloved patriarch, my thoughts went instantly to his family, particularly his sons Pete and Nick, who I know from both my time as a local journalist and as a semi-regular customer for many years.

To say the Triantafilos family is a tightly-knit unit is an understatement. Many family members have or do work at the restaurant and if there have ever been any family squabbles, I as a customer never saw one. Mr. Costas set the tone, with a smile on his face for everyone. He greeted everyone and, when he wasn’t in his domain — the back office — where he sold lottery tickets, handled paper work and generally held court, chatting with his hundreds of friends, he cruised the restaurant, dished out greetings, hugs and handshakes and pitched in wherever he saw fit when the place got slammed.

I truly never saw the man without a smile on his face, and I do not have the words to describe the warmth and genuineness of the twinkle in his eye. It’s as if his eyes, in competition with his lips, smiled all the time.

He was also very generous. I often joked that he probably gave away as many beers as he sold. He would cruise the bar, pulling pints and placing full glasses in front of customers. Sometimes he would take the glass I was drinking from and top it off; other times, a full, fresh glass would be delivered.

In the later years of my journalism career, when I was working only part-time, my social life dwindled significantly. Costas had a happy hour that offered Natty Boh for $1.50 and $5 select appetizers. I’d go in, have a few cheap beers, some chicken wings and leave a decent tip without breaking the bank. On one of these visits, Mr. Costas was behind the bar, giving out his charity beers. When he gave me new beers, they were from the Coors Light tap. I accepted gladly, and thanked him. A little while later, one of the bartenders noticed he was giving me Coors Light and asked why I didn’t tell him he was giving me the wrong beer. My response was somewhere along the lines of, “The man is gifting me free beer. I'll drink whatever he puts in front of me and be thankful for his gesture.”

Against my wishes, the bartender told Mr. Costas he was giving me the wrong beer and he instantly went to the Natty Boh tap and handed me ANOTHER beer! He asked me why I didn’t say anything and I told him the same thing I told the bartender. Then I jokingly said, “Next time, if you’re going to make a mistake, can you make it with Stella Artois?” He roared with laughter and said, “You never know!”

But here’s the thing — Mr. Costas was like that with everyone. It didn’t matter whether you came in every day of the week or once every couple of months. It didn’t matter if you spent hundreds of dollars on a single dinner or pinched pennies during Happy Hour. He saw friends. He saw chosen family members in the huge, extended business family he and his wife created. And he treated them all accordingly.

And his philanthropy wasn’t limited to handing out complimentary beverages. The community will probably never know the full extent of his support of sports teams, scholarships, fundraisers and community members affected by personal tragedies. I would guess that thousands of bottles of liquor have been donated to “baskets of cheer” throughout the years, and that his checkbook was opened countless times. Anyone who asked for assistance walked away with a little something to further a cause or help with a personal tragedy.

Since his sudden death, much has been written about his generosity, his friendship, his sense of family, the importance of his faith and just about every other aspect of his life. Many people consider him a father figure and tell the stories to back that up.

Many others talked of the inn providing their first jobs. Some talked of working at Costas for decades, starting as bus help while young teenagers and progressing through the ranks. Longtime employees have children who grew up around the restaurant and got their first jobs there. One former employee alluded to some personal problems in his younger years and credited Mr. Costas with giving him a chance and putting him on the straight and narrow pathway of life. 

Longtime employee Jennifer Tollberg started working at the inn in 1996 and took off a few years when she gave birth to her daughter. That daughter is now a Costas colleague.

"He was a proud man — proud of his wife and kids, and even more proud of his grandkids," Jennifer wrote in an online tribute. "But he was humble, always saying it was his family and community that made Costas Inn what it is today. Costas isn't Costas because of the crab cakes and crabs because that's duplicated all over Maryland. It's the feeling of family. It's the feeling of Costas."

I would imagine every single person who knew the man has a similar story. I don't think I know another single person about whom I could honestly not say a bad word. Mr. Costas was that man and they indeed broke the mold.

Even in the midst of their profound personal grief, Triantafilos family members realized how deeply the community mourned their father. They published their own tributes, and on several occasions, thanked the community for its outpouring of prayers, shared remembrances and offers to help with anything needed. They also shared a poignant video that showed the hearse carrying Mr. Costas' body as it circled the restaurant on the way to the cemetery. 

“My heart is broken and life will never be the same without you," son Pete Triantafilos wrote in his tribute. "You were my guide, my rock, and my greatest supporter. Your legacy will live on forever.” 

His son Nick said, several days after the funeral, that he was still coming to terms with losing the vibrant force he called Dad.

"The man exuded love," he told me in a message. "Everything about him was genuine. As time passes, I think we will appreciate him more if that's even possible. Right now, it's just raw. We will proceed full steam ahead as he would have wanted and make him proud."

In addition to being a husband, father, grandfather, sibling, uncle and cousin to his blood family, Costas Triantafilos was a father figure, mentor, boss, colleague, friend or benevolent benefactor to just about everyone outside of that family that he met. It wasn't an act, it wasn't choreographed or rehearsed, it wasn't planned. It just happened organically. It was, quite naturally and without pretense or affectation, who Costas Triantafilos was.

Perhaps no greater thing can be said about any man.

May he rest in peace. And may his memory be eternal.