Pivotal Moment

Stale corndogs, sweaty dads and the close proximity of animal pens contributed that singular aroma associated with the County Fair. Screaming kids would run laps between cheap over-priced rides, con games and Dad’s wallet. Done right, it was a lot of fun.

One night in 1968, I did it right, changing my life forever.

The family arrived before noon. We immediately loaded up on sno-cones and cotton candy before heading over to the exhibitions. I chose that time to split from the heard. Dad understood, winking as I ducked away before Mom could reel me back in.

We met up at the Zipper as planned, the Bakersfield version of Our Gang. Extreme anticipation fueled by sensory overload blasted us into the fray. The afternoon morphed into night as the fair became blurred memories of screams, rides and coin tosses.

It was during one of our periodic junk food breaks that my world instantly zoomed into tunnel vision with a single point of focus.

There, over by the Ferris Wheel, stood Sandy White, the most beautiful girl in sixth grade. She looked over at me and smiled.

My feet took me in her direction; she stepped away from her own collection of giggles to meet me roughly half way. To say I was shy was an understatement. Sandy no doubt understood this and was quick to take charge, leading me back to the line she had been standing in.

We got onto our chair and her hand slid quickly through my arm. I was in heaven. It was the kiss that sealed the deal forever. It had come while we sat stalled at the very top of the wheel.

Today, that very same girl has her arm through mine as we unload our own gang at the county fair.

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