The county fair: A step outside the norm

By: Joe Hudson | Statesville Record & Landmark
Published: September 18, 2010

The county fair marks the end of summer, frivolity and sweet corn and the start of school, algebra homework, bed-time schedules and what we in the South call “long sleeve weather.” Like trimming your hair, the fair doesn’t change much, and it’s a personal experience.
Whirling rides outlined in bright lights spin fast, kids squeal, Italian sausages cook in their own steam, funnel cakes are fried and hot dogs brown on little steel rollers while teenagers walk around in small groups. This is not the World’s Fair, a Baptist homecoming, the Gathering of the Clans or a Food Network cook-off. It’s just us, taking a break from mowing the yard.
You enter the main gate and merge with masses, mobs and multitudes of hefty hips, jiggling haunches stuffed into tight jeans and broad-shouldered people all moving like a river past carnie hawkers trying to get the attention of a crowd that flows laterally. We are all searching — but for what, we don’t know.
Our society tends to put you in front of computer screens in a small room which you leave, get into your car, drive home, get out and walk directly into your kitchen and never rub shoulders or elbows with anyone. But the herd instinct within us, wilted by technology, revives and we seem to need interaction with others. So we stand in line to get a deep-fried candy bar or curly French fries and take in the odor of people (baby powder, beer, perfume, cigarette smoke, sweat, musk and a whiff of methane) with their awful-fitting clothes and manners. They walk eating with their mouths open, consuming pounds of animal fat. And yet here is Elegant You, running with this pack of dogs, happy to be in on the hunt. We all sniff each other, acceptance is established and we move on.
I miss the big agricultural extravaganzas fairs used to be known for, but enjoy the current version. Designer hogs, organically fed cows and free-range chickens all raised by farmers — that last branch of the family of Jacob. Farmers are people raised on Holy Scripture, understand disappointment, never talk about money but complain about the market price of corn and the lack of rain, been caught in summer downpours and know the value of a good hammer. We could all learn something from those people.
You ride the Ferris wheel and are overwhelmed with nostalgia as you rise above the gaudy neon lights and noise. It becomes quiet at the top and you think about a time long ago —then suddenly you plummet back down into the smells, smoke and chaos. You are now ready for that chocolate fried hot dog.
Later you hike back to your car. By the grace of God you find it and experience shame and remorse at how you’ve consumed pounds of cholesterol, spent money foolishly (Five tries to win that yellow teddy bear? What were you thinking? You don’t need a teddy bear —you’re 57) and you are repulsed at yourself. Somber, you drive back home to the world of laundry, financial planning and work.
The fair is gone now. A bit of trash and paper blows across acres that once bustled with people and carnival rides. The land looks abandoned and barren. You are yourself again, a person with rules, and you walk with purpose, your head held high — you’re loaded with morals. No one would associate Elegant You as being bawdy and cramming your face with bratwurst. Besides, that was not really you. This is — a respectable person with work to do.
So, get busy.

Joe Hudson is a columnist for the R&L. Readers can write to Joe at Joehud@hotmail.com and Facebook.