Happy Tuesday, Friend!
Recently, I saw a friend’s post on Facebook about a trip she made to the county fair with her family. Holy Ferris wheels! Did that bring back memories! Where I lived, we were much too far away to attend a “state fair,” but the Bayfield County Fair, we did—and we did it up! It was about a 40-minute drive from our house, and it felt like an eternity, knowing what thrills awaited us at our destination.
Seriously, you could have told me that we were at Disney World, and I would have believed you. I was that enamored with the county fair. (Except that Disney World was first built in 1971, and I started going to the fair in the ’60s.)
Sure, there were the animals to look at and plenty of questionable food to eat, but it was mainly about those rides! I was excited even for the merry-go-round. And don’t even get me started on the tilt-a-whirl! That ride seemed to be equal parts absolute thrill and sheer evil. I hadn’t experienced that feeling before in my life, and, phew, did I like it! We used to pile into one of those seats, and we’d try to get that thing spinning as fast as we could. We’d scream, “LEAN!!” and we’d lean into the turn to see if we could spin ourselves silly. The very thought of that now makes me nauseous. Dang, now all I have to do is turn my head too quickly one way or the other, and I’m on my own private “tilt-a-whirl” . . . and I don’t like it!
One year, I had the rare opportunity to attend the fair twice! I think I had gone once with my neighbor’s family, and then I was there a few days later with my cousin. My cousin and I were on the merry-go-round, sitting side by side on some horses, waiting for the ride to begin. I was telling her that the other day when I’d been there with the neighbors, we were standing in the stirrups (behavior not condoned at the fair). I was never one to be a bit “wild,” and so my “crazy antics” with the neighbor kids made me feel like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease when she goes all black leather and cigarettes. As I was demonstrating to my cousin how we had misbehaved the other day, the carnival guy who ran the ride approached me. He brought his scruffy face close to mine and told me I’d better sit down and ride the ride as I was supposed to, or he’d have me kicked off. I remember him distinctly saying he had “the authority” to have me kicked out of the park if he saw fit.
I. was. mortified. Mortified!!
You can bet I sat my skinny little backside on that horse and went back to being Sandra Dee in about two seconds flat.
Being in 4H, we could “enter” stuff in the fair as well. We took classes through 4H throughout the year, and then the fair was supposed to be where you showed off the fruit of your labors. I can’t tell you how many times I entered plates of cookies or brownies. As the years went on, I entered things I had sewn. One year, when I was much cooler because it was the 1970s, I entered a macrame wall hanging. Your entries were judged, and you could earn different ribbons. It’s probably the closest I’ll ever get to being like Simone Biles. I must’ve gotten a blue ribbon here and there. Pretty much the same as an Olympic gold medal.
When Kevin and I were first married, we lived in Minneapolis, and the Minnesota State Fair was (still is) in St. Paul. That became a tradition every late summer. If I thought the Bayfield County Fair was something, the Minnesota State Fair was huge! They had a double Ferris wheel! And the dairy barn! You had to get a milkshake at the dairy barn and see the butter sculpture!
As the years passed, and we had our kids, summertime carnivals were always a favorite activity. Every suburb had its own celebration. There were the Whiz Bang Days in Robbinsdale and Duk Duk Daze in New Hope. These were smaller affairs but still had plenty of rides and games for kids. My hometown has Brownstone Days, and neighboring Ashland has Bay Days. My friend’s hometown of Clayton, WI, used to have Blue Cheese Days, but it has now become Cheese Days for some reason. All cheeses are celebrated and not just blue. I love how these municipalities, big and small, celebrate “days” together every year.
Oh my gosh, that reminds me of something funny. Several years ago, I went to see a funny musical with my friend, Pam. It was called “Minnesota: The Musical.” (That’s what I remember anyway, though now that I’m googling it, it doesn’t appear to have ever existed!) It was a hilarious look at small-town Minnesota life. There was a celebration in town and one of the young ladies who worked at the little resort where the story took place became that year’s coveted “Particle Board Queen.” The town where the story takes place must have been a significant producer of particle board, and thus, the need for a queen. (Her crown was hilarious, made of particle board and weighed so much, she could hardly keep it on her head.)
There’s something about this time of year, when the summer is winding down that I often think fondly of those days at the fair. Such simple days when eating a corn dog and drinking a root beer while sitting at a picnic table were more desired than an invitation to a fancy restaurant. When you tried to run as fast as you could to get one of the “pretty horses” that went up and down on the merry-go-round instead of one of the stationary ones, or worse yet, a seat on a bench. Days of waiting in line (no fast lanes) to go on the tilt-a-whirl for the seventh time to see if you could possibly go any faster than the time before. Tossing rings at prizes on stakes to see if you could win something really cool! (I won a camera once. I thought I was the Queen of England that day. And I don’t mean the Particle Board Queen.)
I hope our kids today have something this simple to look back on and smile about someday when they’re old, like me.
I hope this letter helped you remember some of your days gone by with a smile today, too.
Written with love – – – Patti XOXO
“I see nothing in space as promising
as the view from a Ferris wheel.”
E. B. White