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A Day At The Fair

Fall was in the air. It was a warm, sunny day with that recognizable chill of a cold north breeze. The trees were already showing a trace of their leaves changing colour. The fields in the countryside laid fallow with wound bales of hay and remnants of cut stalks of corn. It seemed all too familiar that summer had run its long and lazy course and we were now into a new season of change, the slow migration to indoor activities and the gathering of things for the long winter ahead. The time of year when minds turn to back-to-school, to harvesting the crops and the anticipation of the local town fair.

I recently went to one of these town fall fairs. This town is not large by any means, but large enough to hold its own fair and to have a venue that at least attracted enough attention to make it a resounding success for yet another year. It was billed as a gathering for all the local and nearby town residents, the small family-run businesses, the agricultural community and a celebration of all that is good and wholesome about rural life. I believe it lived up to its word.

There is definitely an atmosphere of good-will and a sense of community when you go to an event like this. I didn't feel like an outsider wondering through all the exhibit halls and strolling down the temporary amusement midway, even though I have never lived anywhere near this town. I could somehow relate to all the activities, as well as the effort and time put into all the collections of hand-made quilts, finely crafted artwork and well-groomed livestock all vying for those coveted red, white and blue ribbons of excellence and appreciation. There was a very strong sense of pride and accomplishment that only a fall fair like this could display and promote. You couldn't help but be impressed by the tradition and all that it means to the local people.

I spent an unusually long amount of time at one of the exhibits displaying various quilts, needlepoint and stuffed toys. I was amazed at the intricacy of fabrics, the attention to detail and the creativity of some of this work. It was stunning and quite beautiful. I overheard some local residents gathered around this one particular quilt (that had just recently been tagged with a second place blue ribbon) talking about the family that had worked on this quilt over the spring and summer and how they had found some of the materials after searching through countless garage sales and how this one piece of fabric was actually part of an old antique couch and this other piece was taken from an old set of curtains from a store downtown and how it all looked so wonderful together now that they had finally seen the finished project. They commented on the fact that this woman had kept this quilt a secret from everyone and they were all in agreement that her secret was warranted because "you know who" would have stolen this idea and that design and this woman may not have won the ribbon that she obviously deserved, in their opinion. I just listened in amazement and realized that I had been privy to some local town gossip that some "locals" would have died to have heard. I felt very privileged for some reason. It seemed that every quilt, every piece of art had a story to tell and most of the residents attending that fair had some personal connection. I definitely gained a deeper sense of appreciation for all the things exhibited in the various display areas. I wondered how much "labour of love" went into the jar of pickles or that wooden hobby horse proudly displayed among the bird-houses and mail boxes.

Another part of this fair that attracted a lot of attention were all the amusement rides and games of chance. I smiled as I recognized that distinctive aroma of cotton candy, caramel corn and french fries that permeated the afternoon breeze along the "midway". The noise of the generators pumping power to the bumper cars, the Ferris wheel, the octopus ride and makeshift rollercoaster seemed to overpower the shouting of the vendors begging and convincing one and all to try their luck to win one of those gigantic stuffed panda bears or tigers on display. In the background you could hear children screaming and laughing while the rides gyrated, hissed and strained under yet another group of unsuspecting riders. It brought back fond memories and that feeling of excitement and grandeur that I remember as a young boy. Needless to say, I spent a ton of money but had a number of small furry frogs and ducks to brag about as a result of my prowess at darts and air rifles.

Two of the major highlights of this fair were the tractor-pull competition and demolition derby. These are great spectator events for the entire family with lots of noise, clouds of dust and smoke and uncontrollable cheer-leading from the crowd. This demolition derby was of particular interest to my significant other and I because we personally knew a number of the entries and sat with their families in the bleachers. We had a vested interest in this and "rooted" for our hometown favourite. Knowing someone in the competition adds a new dimension making the whole thing more intense and important. Nail-biting becomes fashionable at this point and yelling is expected. By the way, the children were oblivious to all of this and most of the young ones were fast asleep wrapped up in their blankets, cuddling in the laps of their parents.

Needless to say, the cars don't survive this exercise all too well and you are only considered a true fan if you can recognize what make of vehicle survived the "car-nage". Unfortunately, our celebrity did not win but certainly put up a good fight. He has vowed revenge for next year. We pledged allegiance to cheer for him.

So, after all was said and done, the children asleep in their strollers, the tired weary eyes walking like zombies toward the parking lot, the fair was in its final hours and another year had come and gone for this town. Time well spent...

Pure and simple...

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- This storyworx page was last updated on January 26th, 1998 -