Fair Time

"Our state fair is a great state fair, don't miss it don't even be late!"
For me, in the 1940s, the Montana State Fair was the single most exciting event of summer. That excitement lasted until the gates of the fairgrounds closed and the back-to-school advertisements proclaimed the end was near.
Mother loved the fair, and the two of us went every day from the time the gates opened until the fireworks display each night. One year, Gene Autry, on his horse named Champion, led the parade in town which ended at the gates of the fairgrounds. With dozens of other kids, I ran the same route, getting as close to the famous singing cowboy as possible.
There were, according to Mother, rules about going to the fair. First I had to suffer through all the exhibits. We looked at pumpkins and tomatoes, lambs and pigs, jams and quilts, and demonstrations of new vacuum cleaners and slicers and dicers. One year my cousins got a job demonstrating a new bathtub. At the end of the day they looked like prunes, but they were happy prunes as they ran toward the midway with money to spend.
After the exhibits, we went to the cottonwood park and spread out a blanket for our lunch. Mother took out bologna and tuna sandwiches and milk and I dreamed of pronto pups, soda pop and cotton candy that would come later. Mother napped and I fidgeted until it was time for the rodeo and horse racing.
While mother studied the racing program with words like quinella and parimutuals, I climbed under the grandstand to collect empty beer bottles. At two cents each, a sack full would pay for several rides on the midway. The rodeo began with dazzling cowgirls in sequins and white fringes racing around the track on horseback with flags flying above them. Cowboys roped cows, rode broncs and bulls and comical clowns jumped in and out of barrels.
When we left the grandstand area we always stopped at the bingo tent. I had to play too because it increased Mother's chance of completing her set of goblets.
Dinner time! Burgers, and hot dogs, chicken and corn-on-the-cob, choc late covered ice cream bars and cotton candy! The food concessions were on the edge of the midway and I could hear the merry-go-round kaleidoscope and the hawkers in the game booths. Teenagers screamed in terror from high up in a ride called the Hammer. My anticipation couldn't be contained any longer, but Mother had one more rule.
First, I had to ride the Ferris Wheel with her. It was the only ride mother went on and the only one I did not want to go on. I climbed into the rocking wooden bench and watched the attendant lock the bar across our lap. The single bar that was supposed to hold us in. I sat stiffly at the back of the bench as we began our climb into the sky. Each time the wheel stopped to let others on we were a little higher and Mother leaned over the safety bar to enjoy the sights below. She pointed with excitement at the tall buildings in our town while I held my breath while we went around and around. The sweet promises of cotton candy, live pony rides and bumper cars kept me from dying of fear.
Finally! The fair, which is what children call the carnival. Two hours later, after, what mother labeled a "sheer waste of money," we left the midway and scrambled up the grandstand to find the best seat for the night show and the fireworks.
After neck bending aerial displays the fireworks show ended with a ground display of the American Flag and everyone stood up to sing the National Anthem. Then it was all over. BUT not for me! We would be back the next day.
Many years later, I coerced my husband into taking our brood to the fair. Observing Mother's rules we drug our babies through all the exhibits, horse racing, rodeos and homemade lunches before hitting the midway. Then my parental good sense was wafted away with smells of my childhood. After the fireworks,we carried stuffed animals, bowls of gold fish and cotton-candy sticky babes to the car. The next day we went to our bank to borrow enough money to see us through August and the back-to-school sales.
While our state fair is no longer the state fair, and may not be a great fair, I won't miss it. I won't even be late - on senior citizen day.