Tomorrow is the second day of the county fair and I will be there with four children, somebody shoot me now.
County fairs in the heartland have been elevated to the status of a Broadway blockbuster and they boast rows of hosed-down livestock, sweet-sour homemade lemonade and cows sculpted out of butter and the public slurps it up. This is the land of deep-fried twinkies and swarthy carnies who swindle innocents out of allowance money and make them think they are inadequate because they can't pick up a rubber fish with a cheap fishing pole. My grand kids are in honors classes, jeesh, where's the logic, why expose them to this?
Whitey is a friend of my husband's from grade school days and he has a piping hot temper probably from getting pulverized by an older brother on a regular basis. He also volunteered for three tours in Viet Nam which definitely is a red flag of some sort and I remember his 50th birthday party and watching that older brother smash cake into his face forcing him against the wall breaking two picture frames. Whitey beat up a carnie after he discovered the milk bottle was glued to its stand and unable to get knocked over by his baseball. I like that story.
It is fun to watch a small girl's eyes grow immense at the top of the Ferris wheel and nine-year old boys screech and jump out of their seats when the tiger plunges their way. The county fair does have some merit.
1 comment:
ha ha - i like your new pic up top! I haven't been to a county or state fair in ages. I will have to go this September, and in honor of you I will by something deep-fried, that should never, ever be fried. Maybe. I'll think about it.
Post a Comment