When you are young, summer is all about long lazy days and being out of school for a few months. If your childhood was spent in a small town, summer also meant going to the annual country fair. And country fair time was the basis of some of the happiest memories you have.
Of course, the first thing to do upon arrival at the fairgrounds was to head for the cotton candy stand. There, for a modest sum, you got a huge ball of pink fluffy sweetness guaranteed to turn you and everyone close to you very sticky. It was as much fun to watch it being spun out of the cotton candy machine as it was to eat it.
The Ferris wheel was the next stop, and once the safety bar was in place you held on tightly with cotton candy-sticky hands. Round and round you went, and if you were lucky it would stop for more passengers while your car was at the top. The view from up there was as exhilarating as the slightly rocking car was scary.
Next, on to the fairway where everyone wanted to try his hand at games of skill. One booth featured throwing soft balls at weighted bowling pins, which was never as easy as it looked. At another, small metal rings about the size of large mens wedding bands were tossed onto pencil-thin posts revolving in a circle. This was also a lot harder than it appeared to be.
Perhaps either skill or luck, or most likely a combination of both, would let you win enough points to get a prize. There were so many to choose from, and it was hard to decide between the fuzzy stuffed purple dinosaur and the glittery plastic fake crystal necklace. Then there were beanie caps with propellers, and crazy spiral eyeglasses. It seemed to take forever to make a selection.
After all that effort some more energy was required, and it was difficult to decide between the fresh soft pretzels and the juicy hot dogs in the next food stand. Of course, buttered hot popcorn was always delightful. Too bad that there was not enough time to eat everything.
Farther down the fairway, near where the rodeo would soon take place, a garish clown was juggling plates and otherwise entertaining onlookers. You briefly noticed that the scuffed brown boots he was wearing looked exactly like your seventh grade teacher’s. It seemed odd, but you forgot it a moment later as you laughed at the clown and thought what a great job he had, working at fairs all year long.
Finally that evening you went home, a little too full of junk food and a bit sunburned, but very happy. It had been a tiring day but a wonderful one too, with pleasant memories of another summer’s fair. It was hard to stay awake long enough to get to bed, and as you went to sleep you wondered what your seventh grade teach actually did during his summer vacation.
