When the Fair came to town

Each year as the summer slowly slipped away, a new scent filled the air. Anticipation and excitement stirred into a pot of savory, youthful glee sent a most delicious fragrance through the air that country youth everywhere can smell. The York Fair came to town each September and it was, indeed, a time of rejoicing. Every year we looked forward to buying a bunch of cotton candy and candy apples, going on scary rides like the caterpillar and the wild mouse, the hammer and of course the Ferris wheel.

I lived in the country, so to get there I had to get up really early and ride to York with my Daddy when he went to work. He would drop me off at my Aunt Emmy’s house. She and Uncle Curvin lived about a block from the Fair. It was a long, painful wait till 10:00 a.m. came and I was allowed to go to the Fair by myself and meet my girlfriend, Joan Abel. Think about it people. I was 9 years old and my parents left me not only cross the busiest street in town, but they left me go to the fair unattended except for another child who was a year older. My Daddy was at work and Mom was at home and didn’t have a phone. It was a different time. Children didn’t have to think about talking to strangers, being kidnapped or molested. Somehow we were kept safe, in a dome of protection, blissfully free to be who we were, children on one of life’s great adventures.

The Fair was the third best time of year, following closely behind Halloween and the best, Christmas. Easter wasn’t bad, but after the egg hunt and wearing your Easter clothes to Church it kind of fell off. Usually the air was cooler at this time of year, and you could smell the wood smoke in the air.

Just saying the Fair made you feel all tingly inside. The smells, sounds and sights were almost more than I could stand. This was the year my one room school teacher, Mrs. Herman had entered my pencil drawing of a Mocking Bird in the Fair. I couldn’t wait to go to the school exhibition hall to see if I had won anything. I didn’t expect to. There were always so many entries. It was a big deal to everyone to enter something at the Fair. I was impatient with Joan to get there. It seemed so far from where we had met. Our little legs were tired crossing that huge Fairground. As we entered I could feel my breath filling my lungs. I couldn’t breathe as we looked at all the exhibits. Finally, we came to the 4^th grade entries. My Mocking Bird was there, and hanging on one corner was a blue ribbon. I remember standing frozen in place for what seemed like hours as I stared at the shiny prize. I was stunned. Neither of us said a word. It was the first time I had ever won anything in my short little life. I wasn’t feeling proud or entitled. All I felt was numbness, the slow kind that creeps over you like fog over a slow moving stream. I had told myself that it was just a picture. I drew much better horses than birds. I guess I never entertained the thought that there was even a remote chance I’d win.

I could have left the Fair then. I didn’t need anything else. Joan didn’t say anything and we left the Hall to find a ride to get the Fair officially off the ground. It was the best Fair ever. The bright autumn sky was filled with promise and our $5.00 allowance seemed to last forever as we explored this exciting and strange world.

I never even thought about buying one of those Chameleons on a string, The ones that walked all over the man’s shirt as he trudged along with his big sign full of the crawling prisoners who were safety pinned to the sign. I always wanted one, but my Mom said as I was getting into the car with Daddy,” and don’t bring one of those dirty Chameleons home either!” I bought a whip instead. Something I came to regret when I jumped out from behind the outhouse cracking it and screaming at my brother Rod at the same time. He chased me all over the farm trying to get a hold of me or that whip. It must have been a pretty bad scare for him. As I lay in bed that night, I could finally laugh about it. His face was red with anger as he tried to grab the whip from my grubby little hands. No sense of humor. He never did have one, and I never learned. Like the time I got my aluminum saucer one Christmas for sledding down the hill behind the house. He asked me how it worked. What was I to do? He asked, so I had to show him. When he was sitting just right, I gave him a shove and spun him around. It was wonderful! Down he went, spinning out of control and going so fast I just knew he was going to go straight through the house. His voice had a tinny kind of sound to it, like he was screaming through a piece of rain gutter. I know now it was pure, unadulterated terror I was hearing. I know, because once he hit the bottom and was on his feet he was after me, and I heard the very same sound coming from my throat.

The Fair left town after a week, bringing to an end the fun we had. It would be back next year though, and I would be ready for it. Right now I had corn to shell for Halloween, my costume to get together, black cats and bats to cut out of construction paper and of course, we had to plan who we were going to take along trick or treating. But that story is for another time.