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Hey Ho, Come To The Fair.

July 3, 2008

The last time I went to a state fair was when my youngest child, now a college student, was a little boy. And that was only to look at the animals and pig out on cream puffs. (When N and I were dating he took me to the local county fair where we moseyed through the animal barns, mostly oohing and aahing at the horses: those Brobdingnagian Belgians and colossal Clydesdales with hooves the size of dinner plates; he knew there was a special place in my heart for them [the horses, not the plates].) So it’s been a while. But it’s been eons since I set foot in the midway.

At the suggestion of another son, along with his wife and two young children (whom we were visiting) we stepped into the colorful world of the amusement park.

N and I were left to our own devices: opting to sit down in the blazing sun and people watch rather than twirl around a hundred or so feet above the ground or turn upside down and inside out at “break neck” speed in what resembled a gigantic slingshot. We also declined the invitiation to toss a dozen tennis balls at a row of oversized clown heads in an attempt to win one goldfish.

We forwent (yes, it is a word) the ubiquitous pink candy canes as well as the three gallon size sodas and melting violet and green sno-cones (which in that heat looked ever so tempting). We managed not to salivate profusely at plump hot dogs coated in mustard as they oozed out of their wheat laden buns. And we averted our eyes when the seller of salt flecked, giant pretzels strolled our way. It wasn’t easy. When we exited the fair grounds holding hands with two happy children (each with one goldfish in tow), their parents and many pairs of shoes filled with blisters and sand, we felt sated. And we were.

Would I go back to a midway? Just to watch those smiling little faces; you bet I would.

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