The Fair

The Modern Day Fair
In the early '90's I lived in central Illinois. I was in graduate school, and it was during this time that I developed an appreciation for country music. To this day, no one close to me can believe I listen to the stuff. My favorite artists - Travis Tritt, Martina McBride, Randy Travis, Vince Gill, to name a few. I have always had and worn a cowboy hat, especially when I was in college. Being close to the land has always been important to me as much as I love cities, big cities. When it comes to settling down - I need land around me. Being from the Midwest, corn and wheat fields make my heart sing. Yes, there's a little bit of country in this city girl.

My plan since Tuesday was to go to the local fair today. In my heart, I really didn't want to go, but it was something I said I would do. My usual approach to things is to do some research first, and that's just what I did. I went to the fair's website - printed out the map of the fair grounds, (and was told by a friend that I was overplanning). I also did some digging for an ethnography or two about county fairs. And guess what? I found a book review in Museum Anthropology, vol 20, number 1, pp 79-81. The review critiques Leslie Prosterman's work entitled Ordinary Life, Festival Days: Aesthetics in the Midwestern County Fair. She is known for her field work exploring county fairs in Illinois and Wisconsin. Ms. Prosterman asserts that the fair be perceived as an art form in which the "folk" (farmers) purposely arrange and run the fair in an uniform and organized manner to offset their otherwise unpredictable life (dealing with nature's elements, death, and dirt). She does, however, point to many ironies and tensions, "in the pursuit of uniformity" that are quite interesting. I bring this up because I wanted to gain more insight on the fair culture of which I am an outsider. Feeling slightly more enlightened, I headed out.

Pulling into the fair grounds, I had a deja vu experience. Just yesterday, I was listening to a friend talk about cellular memory. Memories are stored in the body, and when we revisit a place or a similar situation, those memories can rise to the surface. This can have varying emotional responses within us. I parked the car in the field, and as I started walking toward the entrance, tears were streaming down my face. The rural corn fields of Northern Illinois were calling, and I could feel them in my body. Memories of my undergraduate days came flooding back. I was having a nostalgic moment.

Unfortunately, as soon as I entered, the sweet memories of days gone by quickly evaporated. Feeling bombarded by carnival rides, cheap trinkets, and gut wrenching food, I headed for the exhibits. "Get to the animals" became my mantra. I found the cows first. To be honest, I was taken aback at the size of some of these cows - are they all called cows? I don't think so, and I apologize for not educating myself a bit more on their official names. Anyway, two very nice women took my picture with some miniature cows - maybe they were youngsters. I don't know. In any case, I enjoyed my time in that barn very much. Bless the sweet animals.

The noise and racket in the poultry and rabbit barn was enough to split my eardrums. However, it was here that I met Millie. That's my name for her. A great big pig with some new babes all huddled around her nipples. Poor thing looks exhausted, don't you think? Then on to the sheep who stood perfectly still for people to pet them, and I took advantage of that - definitely a lot of firsts for me today.

The vegi and fruit exhibit was interesting. Of course, we don't know what kind of farming practices produced these specimens. This is important to me. Non genetically modified food that is raised pesticide and chemical free is what we all need to be fighting for. Walking up and down the aisles admiring the food made me smile. They finally got their day in the spotlight. I like the idea of honoring the food. (And yes, I did notice that every other vegetable and fruit had either a red or blue ribbon on it. How can they all have won first or second prize?)

The birthing barn would have been exciting and thrilling, but there was a new calf, and the children running the barn were allowing people to pet this small creature who was just born a few hours before. Taken away from its mother, surrounded by strange human hands, how was it going to feel safe? What if it wanted to eat? Would we do that to a human baby? Can we please stop treating animals as if they are inanimate objects? I had enough.

From here, I found some extremely average Thai food, and the exit. I can honestly say that I can't think of a reason I would ever go to the fair in the future. The carneval aspect killed the idea of ever doing something like this again - it bleeds out into everything else. The birthing barn experience did not sit well with me.

Ancestral Connection
A cowbell sits on my nightstand next to my bed. It belonged to my maternal great grandfather, and was worn by one of his precious animals in Italy. Holding the bell calls my great grandfather to me, and I can feel his love for the land and his animals. I had almost forgotten about this until I got home today. Visiting the animals at the fair is something my great grandparents would have loved to do. They cherished the land, and revered God's creatures. I didn't know I would feel them so close to me today - that was a gift.

I do know, however, that there is a simple country girl inside me who treasures the land. Home is the peace and quiet and beauty of nature where my heart and soul rest.


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