Fair Time

September is fair time.  The animals have been bathed, brushed and groomed to the nines. They are the pride and joy of the owners who are hoping for a ribbon as a reward for the year of tender loving care they have lavished on their stock. Some of these animals will return home riding in their trailers behind pickup trucks--back to the familiarity of their barns and pens. Others that have been sold move on to unknown adventures which we will not discuss here due to the unhappy fate that awaits some.


Fairs are a tradition that go back centuries. They provide an opportunity to sell, buy, and show off everything from bottled fruit, to your great grandmother's quilt. When I was a child the fair was a magical place full of sound, color and flamboyant people. The carnival workers always seemed a little sinister to me.  Perhaps it was their loud calls encouraging you to try your luck at the penny toss, or the ball toss; their insistence --the in your face approach made it difficult to walk away. It could also have been the fact that my parents told me they were gypsies and gypsies steal children. More than likely it was my mother who threw in the part about taking children.


The prizes are more sophisticated at today's fair:  no more cu pie dolls with pink feathers and bright red lips or wooden batons painted red and blue with gold glitter on the ends. They disappeared along with the pony rides. Through much begging and coaxing  I managed to convince my dad, not my mom, that I desperately needed a cu pie doll. I'm sure the vendor calling out to my dad helped. "Come on buy it for the little girl make her happy."  She was so exotic swinging on the end of a stick to which she was attached with small elastic bands. The one and only pony ride satisfied my fantasy of being Annie Oakley.  It all became clear years later as I walked the same fair grounds with my own children that going to a state fair is no cheap adventure. Thanks Dad I value the memory.



A few new additions have been added to the deep fried menu:  oreoes, twinkies, kangaroo and alligator are now part of the fair food experience. Corn dogs, hamburgers, carmel apples, and cotton candy, or as my Australian daughter- in- law calls it fairy floss, have not been tampered with. Many people see the fair as a feeding frenzy. They eat and eat and eat some more. They leave with cholesterol surging through their arteries for days. My weakness is the carmel apple. I would never think of passing the vendor stand without making a purchase.  Never mind the fact that I pay $4.25 for a 50 cent apple and 50 cents worth of carmel. I am being fleeced and I know it. 


I go to the fair for two reasons:  the heavenly sugared apple and the Indian relay races.  The excitement begins to move through the crowd as the horses and teams approach the grandstands. The horses jump and dance nervously in anticipate of their run around the track. No saddles are used in the event which makes it even  more fun to watch. The team of riders and handlers are extremely skilled horsemen. They have trained and honed their skills through hours of hard work. This is an event where spectators become participants. You feel as well as watch.  Everyone senses the power and strength in the horses and  the ability and training it takes to handle them.  It is impossible to sit passively and watch.You are aware of the pride of each rider and the intensity with which he approaches his sport. The crowd rises as one and shouts and cheers for each rider. There is no picking a favorite. Everyone yells and hollers as the riders pull up to change horses. Maybe part of the draw for this event stems from growing up on cowboy and Indian movies. Perhaps, I am the only one in this category since I always wanted to be the Indian.  Once you have seen an Indian relay you will return because you have tasted the adventure and are now hooked. The cholesterol along with the sugar is now mixed with adrenalin. You will return.




We all go to the fair for one reason--to be entertained and how we choose to find the entertainment doesn't matter just as long as we find it and go home satisfied.