THE COUNTY FAIR

The County Fair

"I REMEMBER WHEN"

The County Fair has always held a special place in my mind and in my heart for I still associate it with wonderful memories of a time of innocence and purity.

I vividly remember the time my foster grandfather took us to the annual County Fair along with half a score of cousins, several neighbors' kids, a few dogs and one scrawny old cat that little Martha Sue called 'Whillickers'.

The County Fair was one event we all anticipated with alacrity bordering on hysteria. This particular year I will always remember because I had worked for old man Garner for days on end picking up pecans for a penny a pound.

Sometimes I worked until the North STAR came out. I was a seven-year-old with seventy-six cents in my possession that was steadily burning a hole in my britches. Seventy-six cents back in those days went an incredibly long way.

Grandpa Bill had an old pickup truck, but he often noted that; like my Uncle Thomas, it stayed broken and idle most of the time. So he decided to hitch up the old hay wagon that was his pride and joy. Granny said he built it all by himself back during the great depression. Grandma called it the ROSE of Texas.

I later learned that it wasn't exactly the wagon he was so proud of, it was a brace of ugly old mules. These two ornery critters were acclaimed to be the best pair of mules in the county. Grandpa Bill called them 'Gee and Haw,' and I assume that's because that's the only language he used when he ordered them to do something.

Naturally, by taking the old hay wagon we had to get up at O-dark thirty in the morning to make it to the county fair at a respectable time. But we had no problem waking up despite the early morning hour because going to the county fair was one of the few annual events we cherished. Grandpa would tie a FLASHLIGHT to the front and back of the wagon since there were no electric lights.

Granny would make sure we all had warm clothing and she even made us wear shoes, items we normally wore only for Sunday school. She would also throw a load of heavy home-made quilts in the back of the wagon to ward off the early morning chill, and a large basket of fried chicken, Mason Jars full of cold WATER and other wonderful smelling esculent goodies she had cooked the day before. With a loud, "Gee Haw," and a few vituperative verbs, Grandpa Bill would put the mules into gear and our fantastic adventure would begin.

Upon arrival at the fair grounds, Grandpa Bill had the prescience of mind to dicker for the ideal parking spot, one that naturally showed off his mules to their very best advantage. Grandma would go over the 'rule of law' with us for the umpteenth time, embellishing the punishments we'd earn if our outlaw behavior took control of us. Then, with great stealth, we'd pull off our shoes and throw them under a blanket, then head lickety-split for the fun, food, and excitement.

With indubitable certainty, the first person we met was Misses Purdy the school Principal. The only thing I can remember about Irma Purdy was the fact that she was purdy ugly and purdy apt to stay that way and purdy mean on top of it all. If she accidentally looked into a MIRROR she’d probably see the Wicked Witch of the West!

However, after a short fencing of words and a little escape and evasion, we met our school friends at the freak tent. Seems as if the freak show was always our favorite, with the exception of the eating contests, for we all stood patiently in line to register for the watermelon and pie eating contests, something Misses Purdy could never get us to do at school.

I spent none of my hard-earned cash because cousin Junior borrowed (appropriated) six bits to spend at the kissing booth. He said he would 'whoop-up on me awful bad' if I said anything. Come to think of it, he never paid me back. But, who needed money at the County Fair? Certainly not me!

After an incredibly long and exciting day, filled with hot-dogs, corn on the cob, blackberry pie, watermelon, cotton candy, fried chicken, and the greatest show on earth, cousin Billy (we called him Junior 'cause he couldn't stand it), would round us up and herd us back to the wagon where Grandpa Bill and Grandma were waiting. Indubitably, Grandpa Bill had half a dozen old timers rubbing and petting Gee and Haw as if they were something special. They were just a couple ugly, mean, and stubborn old mules if you ask me, especially Haw who furtively bit the dickens out of me once.

The long ride home was uneventful because, after fifteen minutes of bragging and telling of tall-tales, like exhausted Hobbits, we youngins fell sound asleep under the warm blankets until the wagon pulled up in front of our house.

What a wonderful day it was though. Those were the kind of days we hoped would never end; the kind of days I wish every child could experience and hold on to forever.