So, enough about politics.
Seriously.
Went to the county fair last week, a bit of Americana I’ve
always loved.
Homemade crafts. Farm raised produce. An art show. Livestock.
A carnival. The rodeo. What’s not to love?
Our local fair, which used to stretch through four buildings
and two barns, toured by walking over dirt paths, in July. Heat stroke kept at
bay by free ice water doled out in a booth run by Christian youth. Hunger pangs
soothed by steak sandwiches handmade by Kiwanis gents.
A few years back a committee decided to improve the
fairgrounds. Well, okay, the grandstand was about to collapse, but why stop
there? They paved all the paths, built a large, air conditioned “multi-purpose”
building. They tore down the old barn and most of the other fair buildings.
And was the fair improved?
4H seems to be going strong, but the rest of the fair is
almost non-existent.
Improved into just an old memory. That haunting refrain that
begins … back in the old days.
