Soapbox

Fair Weather

   Despite its being a long-held tradition, there was some debate about whether Ted and I would go to the State Fair this year, You've seen one deep-fried twinkie/pickle/cheesecake, you've seen them all being the general argument against. In the end, the Sky Glider decided it for me (aided, it must be confessed, by the thought of all the yard work that I should probably do were I to stay home) and so yesterday afternoon, off we went.

   "Amy, where are you?" was the voice mail message I left for a friend who said she was working a booth near the big Cardinal entrance to the fairgrounds. While waiting for her to reply, we decided to lok at the exhibit of quilts, cakes and other crafts, that    building being near her general area. I was hoping to see one of the cross-stitch pieces I had mounted and framed for people who claimed to be entering them in a fair competition but didn't see any cross-stitch work at all.
    I pointed out a rather nice Tole painting in dark colors of a boat on an evening lake.
    "That is nice" Ted agreed "but I never would have put that awful green mat on it."
I turned to look at him in amazement.
    "Well there are some nice blue-greens in the background there, but that bright kelly green mat just doesn't work" he insisted.
    "I don't think I have ever loved you more than I do at this moment" I said with the beginning of a tear in my eye. For of course, he was exactly right.
     Amy called back and explained where her booth after we'd already proceeded to the mock civil war encampment so and we agreed we'd stop and see her on our way home. 
     We decided to proceed backward from our usual pattern and work our way to the other end of the fair and then ride the Sky Glider back rather than starting off with a ride. Passing a small stage we heard a band being introduced whose lead singer used to be the singer for McGuffey Lane, a group any college student in Athens in the late 70's and early 80's surely heard many times. We spent a few happy minutes listening to them and singing along with "Long Time Loving You" and remembering a long time ago.

     State Fair food has, I believe, "jumped the shark" so long ago that it's not possible for anything to surprise me any more. (I did see a booth advertizing "Aspirin Snacks"  which I thought sounded useful if unappealing and wondered if the aspirin at the fair are deep-friend. I also noticed that the booth featuring cheeseburgers that use Krispy Kreme doughnuts for a bun assured us "Fresh, never Frozen". This was was a real relief. Because a glazed-doughnut-cheeseburger with frozen meat would just be icky, don't you agree?) Without too much fuss we settled on chicken sandwiches and lemon shake-ups, which we took into the nearly empty Stackhouse Coliseum to eat in it's cool depths while we waited for the next round of horse competitions to start.
    I find something very zen in watching the big John Deere zamboni as it circles the arena, erasing hoof prints, smoothing out rough spots, bringing order to chaos.
    The evening's program was all draft horses, which I enjoy and Ted particularly so, growing up with his grandfathers' horses working the farm. (It seemed that we were a day late to see the jousting exhibition, though. Too bad. Nothing livens up a fair like a good joust.) Can I just say that I am impressed by anyone with the wherewithall to even own 6 draft horses these days, let alone to show them. What kind of money must that take, for the food, the tack and wagon, and transporting all that to a fair! I hope there are always people willing to invest in these lovely, stately creatures, even if they're just for show and not working teams any longer.
    The competition was made more entertaining by a certain 3 or 4 year old young lady behind us and her take on the proceedings. "Why aren't their seat belts on?" she inquired of the wagon drivers, which her mother agreed would be something any sensible driver would do. She also thought it scandalous that people were still walking in and out through the west gate when the announcer had just told them not to because teams would be comeing in (a child after my own heart).
    But my favorite comment came at the end of the first competition when she asked excitedly "Oh- what's that princess gonna do?" when a girl walked out to present the ribbons. Dressed in a short sun dress and cowboy boots, she didn't fit my idea of a 'princess' but the little girl had spied the small tiara and sash reading "Percheron Queen" and knew royalty when she saw it.

    To assuage the disappointment of a friend to whom I had mentioned that I never do this, we went to see the butter cow next. Ted bought an ice cream cone while I contemplated the 1,800 pounds of butter used to sculpt a cow with a birthday hat and "Happy birthday Ohio" cake. I tried briefly to lament all the hungry people who could have used that butter, but really, I don't think many children go to bed hungry in Ohio for lack of butter. Still, it seems a bit silly.

   In order to get from the dairy barn to the Natural Resources area we had to cut through the midway. I usually try to avoid this area like the plague, and our brief trip reminded me of why. It's like accidently getting off the freeway at the wrong exit and finding yourself in a sketchy part of town. The folks running the basic games remind me of street preachers eager to convince us all to come to Jesus, and the guys with the "Guess your weight" booths are like so many meth addicts looking to score. Plus it smells really skeevy over there.
    We made it through the midway without being mugged and walked through the Natural Resources area. (I did not know that there are parks where you can rent a teepee to camp in!) I was entranced by a little fox who regarded me intensely in the twilight from behind a log. All huge eyes, twitching ears and graceful little black feet- he looked like a  fairy spirit.

    "Shall we just make plans to not do this next year?" Ted suggested as we walked to the Sky Glider for a bird's-eye view on our way to the exit. I shurgged.
    "I don't know. I didn't have a bad time" I said. "It's just… the same old thing." 
    A woman and young girl got into a car before us, and as it took off, the child little wriggled with excitement and delight.
    That's what's missing I thought. That's why the fair isn't fun any more. When the kids were little, when we put them on the little dragon roller coaster and they giggled and waved at us all the way around, when we trudged together up those steps and held them close down the giant slide, felt their awe as they beheld the huge, sweet-smelling cows standing placidly next to their doe-eyed calves… the fair was fun, because we saw it through the eyes of someone who found it easy to see joy and wonder in the world.
     Several times during our ride, the Glider stopped, as it does from time to time. The third time I leaned forward and saw, standing below and right in front of me– my own brother, eating a french fry.
    "Andrew! Hey, Andrew!!" He looked up, surprised. And there with him were Kelly, Grace and Emily. There was a time when we would all have been at the Fair together, our children holding hands and dashing through the crowds. Now, I never even know when they come to town.
     "Aunt Tracy!" Grace called. "Hi! This is Joel!"
      "Hi Joel- it's nice to almost meet you!" I called back to her fiancee, whom I only know from Facebook. And then the Sky Glider started up again and our hello waves were goodbye waves.
      Part of our State Fair tradition h always involved getting a funnel cake as we're leaving. As I"ve gotten older I've needed to skip lunch and not buy any snacks at the Fair to try to allow for all those calories, but it was just a once-a-year indulgence, so why not? Tonight neither one of us thought we would even want more than just a bite or two of a funnel cake, so I got a belgian waffle instead. Not quite as good, but between the two of us old folks, we were able to eat the whole thing.
     "Amy, where are you?" I left on her answering machine when we still couldn't find her at the booth near the entrance, and with that bit of symetry to the day, we decided to leave.

     Maybe next year we could borrow somebody's children to take with us to the fair.