The Fairest of Them All

When you grow up in a town that includes the state fairgrounds, you might, after so many years, begin to take the Fair for granted. You might develop a kind of ho-hum attitude toward it, and--worst case scenario--you might become so apathetic toward it that you don't bother to go at all during the Fair's traditional eleven-day August run.

That is, however, not the case with me. Even though I now live thirty-four miles south of my hometown, sometimes referred to as "The State Fair City," I can't recall a year when I didn't go to the Fair at least once. When I was a little kid, it ranked right up there with my birthday and Christmas as a highlight of the calendar year. For me, the Fair (which I honor even now with a capital letter) was big stuff.

The Fair is even bigger stuff now that I have six grandchildren to share it with. Ranking from five to twelve years old, they are all the perfect ages to enjoy the variety of entertainment and activity the Fair offers. Largely to humor their Googie, both families of children make it a priority to spend at least one day together scoping out freebies, indulging themselves with Fair food, checking out the goings-on, and getting their wristbands' worth of rides on the midway.

Although this year's event enabled us to once again enjoy some of our favorite Fair features, we got the chance to try out some new experiences as well. The photos that follow focus on some of the things we took on this year that we don't usually do.

If you have followed "Googie's Attic" through the Fairs of previous years, you know about our yellow T-shirts, which all of us except Heero (far right) and Beenie (far left--he is wearing a lookalike) still fit into. Wearing bright yellow, we do not do much at the Fair that goes unnoticed. We look a little like a flock of ducks, but--hey--two years ago, when the kids were four through ten, these shirts definitely helped us to keep the flock together. This may be our final yellow-shirt year, but you will be glad to know these trusty garments will be retired with honor, having served their purpose nobly.

This was the kids' first year to see the massive, majestic Budweiser Clydesdales up close and personal. Placards listing the horses' birth dates gave the kids a chance to brush up on their summer vacation math skills. Most of them found a horse with either a birthday near their own or one who was close in age.

 
It was also our first year to catch a hug from Sparky the Fire Dog, as Beenie, Heero, and Bootsie do here. A quick check on the website sparky.org reminds me that Sparky first began his fire prevention campaign in 1951, the year before I was born. Since then, he has appeared as an advocate of fire safety in coloring books, comic books, and videos.

Sixty-eight years may be an impressive career for a fire dog, but this year marks the seventy-fifth birthday of Sparky's cohort, Smokey the Bear. Here, Zoomie and Heero celebrate with Smokey, a Fair icon who still moves his arm up and down, points his finger at you, and delivers a recorded fire safety message with the push of a button, as Heero demonstrates.

This last photo shows Zoomie and Pooh visiting with my friend Kathleen, who is living a dream by impersonating Laura Ingalls Wilder, the much-loved author of the Little House on the Prairie series of children's books. Following her presentation, "Laura" encouraged participation from the audience and took time to answer impromptu questions. Sooby, Pooh, Bootsie, and Zoomie are familiar with Wilder's books as bedtime story material, so each of them--as well as their cousin Beenie--readily offered a question that Kathleen, in turn, fielded expertly.

What happened to Nellie Oleson (this "mean" girl was actually a composite of two real-life meanies)? To the Boasts (the Ingalls' neighbors)? To Pa (played by Michael Landon in the TV series)? To Mary (Laura's sister who went blind)? How many times in all did you move?

I was proud of the kids for their interest, attention, and willingness to speak out with their questions. If theirs are questions you wonder about as well, you may want to invite "Laura" to tailor a presentation for your group. (You can e-mail Kathleen Boswell at boswell@iland.net if you wish more info.)

The Clydesdales, Sparky, Smokey's birthday, and Laura Ingalls Wilder (plus the fact that everyone can now drive the bumper cars unassisted--this is BIG!) were just some of this year's Fair highlights. I can't express how much it means to me for these kids to share this much-loved institution of my own childhood.

When next August rolls around, it will be hard to top the novel experiences of this year's Fair--but there is this to consider: We plan to be pushing a stroller. It will be Baby Packee's first Fair, and that alone will make it special.

The Recipe

Take six kids ages four to eleven. Stir in a couple warm August days. Add the annual state fair to the mix, and you have a recipe that serves up a big batch of fun for all of us. This year was no exception.

Our Missouri State Fair has so much to offer that it takes us two days to do it justice, and even then there are things we miss. But, as always, we once again gave it our best effort and, from what I can tell, we were left with the usual aftertaste of pleasant memories. Here are some of this year's key ingredients.

The fairgrounds never lack for free entertainment. Although we have yet to enjoy the annual circus, we finally made it to the pig races this time. Heero would be the first to tell you that "our" pig won the big race, meaning he got to the Oreo first in the third and final lap. Here, Heero, Zoomie, Beenie, and Sooby wait for the races to start.

 
Other entertainers stroll the grounds, like this pair of human Transformers. You can tell by the kids' Highway Patrol hats that we had just come from numerous conversations with Otto the Talking Patrol Car.

The Petting Zoo, where the kids can pet and feed exotic animals, is always a favorite, but I couldn't pull my camera out there because my hands were covered with llama slime. The Children's Barnyard is a little less interactive but no less fun, as Bootsie demonstrates with her cousins. No, this cow is not one of the many real ones you can see at the Fair.

In addition to agriculture, Fair exhibits also promote an awareness of conservation. Here, none other than Smokey the Bear himself warns Pooh, Bootsie, and their cousins about the dangers of forest fires.

Just outside the Conservation Department buildings, the kids gather for a group shot around another friendly bear.

Our second day at the Fair takes us to the midway, where the kids do all they can to get Googie's money's worth out of six unlimited-rides wristbands. I can safely say I have never left the Fair feeling cheated. Our matching yellow shirts, which have made it successfully into their third year, make us a force to be reckoned with. They also make it easier for us to find each other in the mayhem.

This year, one of my friends told me she had seen a video clip of our gang on MSNBC as the "Fair Family of the Day." Since I missed it, I am left to wonder what I was doing and how I looked during those few seconds. But one thing I am sure of is that we were having a great time.

Now, a couple weeks post-Fair, I relegate this recipe for fun to the box until we pull it out again this time next year. The kids (and I) will all be another year older then, but I won't worry too much just yet.

I know that one of these days I will wake up and the t-shirts will no longer fit. Instead of the Fair, there will be a whole slew of graduations and weddings, and carnival money will go for more tangible presents. That day will come all too soon.

That's why, for the time being, I don't mind investing in wristbands and enduring the occasional kiss of a llama.

The Yellow Shirt Gang

Our state fair pulled up stakes and moved out a few days ago, but not before the grandkids were able to make their mark on it. This year, the group of us painted a wide yellow swath as we traversed the grounds in matching T-shirts purchased just for the occasion.

The seed of that idea germinated when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught the rack of shirts on my way to the toothpaste aisle at Wal-Mart. Easily sidetracked, I gave a fleeting thought to how funny it would be for each of us--four adults and six children--to wear one of those on our annual visit to the fair.

Imagine my surprise when, on my way back past the clothing section, ten yellow shirts--of their own accord--jumped into my cart. When I finally regained my senses, I was in the check-out line forking over $75. Following is a little photo-saga of our day at Missouri State Fair 2016.

Our fair is, for the most part, an agricultural showcase that includes many educational features for children. Here, the kids listen to what Beenie, far right, calls "the talking corn."

Pooh, Zoomie, and Heero check out a hands-on book display in the Agriculture Building.

Sooby and Bootsie watch chicks hatch in an incubator in the FFA's newly remodeled Children's Barnyard.

Zoomie engages in a serious conversation with Otto, a talking antique Missouri State Highway Patrol cruiser.

Beenie and Heero play among barrel statues in the Highway Gardens.

Heero, Beenie, and Bootsie paint rocks in the Family Fun Center. The shirts weren't quite so yellow after that.

CORN DOGS! No trip to the fair is complete without them.

We closed out the day with the kids' favorite part--the carnival rides! With the discounted wristbands Googie buys before the fair opens, they get to ride as much as they want.

All of us agree that last Thursday was one of our best days ever at our fair. The older the kids get, the more they find to enjoy.

This year, we loved the added feature of our matching T-shirts, which may represent the best $75 I ever spent. Besides the fact that we looked adorable as a sea of yellow washing down the streets of the fairgrounds, our identical shirts made it incredibly easy to keep up with each other. They made a pretty effortless job of keeping up with six excited children exploring the nooks and nuances of a once-a-year event that, I have to say, is getting to be even more fun than Christmas.

As an unexpected added bonus, there is a pretty good chance the shirts will still fit everyone next year. If you are lucky enough to attend the Missouri State Fair sometime between August 10 and 20, 2017, be sure to watch for a yellow splash that is sure to brighten your day.

Our Fair Friend Otto

By the time the state fair pulls into our town every August, the kids and I already have a mental list of the things we will do. We will gaze down from the top of the Ferris wheel to see buildings that look like Legos, and people and cars that appear no bigger than toys.

We will go to see the "butter cow," hand-sculpted from hundreds of pounds of butter, in its refrigerated compartment of the dairy bar. And, of course, we will talk to Otto.

Otto will talk to us, too, because that's what Otto does. He is, after all, a talking car. Specifically, he is a 1931 Model A Ford roadster of the kind formerly used by the Missouri State Highway Patrol. Every year, Otto comes to his special open-air garage in the fair's Highway Gardens to converse with children about any variety of topics, safety-related and otherwise.

Most fortunately, daughter Cookie captured last month's visit to Otto in a rare digital moment that includes me and all six grandkids:

There, totally immersed in as deep a conversation as you can have with a hunk of metal, are, from left to right, Sooby, Bootsie, Googie (no, I am not a midget; I am on my knees), Beenie, Beenie and Heero's mama, Heero, Zoomie, and Pooh (who, microphone in hand, is acting as our spokesman).

As I understand it, Otto first came to our fair in the late 1960s. He not only talks (with appropriate help from a trooper with a remote device) but also blinks his eyes and honks. As you leave his garage, he will see that the kids all get a T-shirt and a coloring book. What's not to like about a guy who can do all that?

Like Smokey the Bear in the Conservation Building and the llama in the petting zoo, Otto wears one of the iconic faces of our fair. He is a true personality, complete with jokes and teasing and the occasional safety tip.

The kids dearly love him, and so do I. No trip to the state fair would be complete without a detour through the Highway Gardens where kids are loyal subjects and Otto is king.

Smokey Makes History

As a Baby Boomer, I grew up in a generation of kids who loved their bears. Of course, by the time I arrived on the scene, "The Three Bears" had long been prominent in the kiddie lit world, and the market had been saturated with teddy bears. (Mine was named "Sandy.")

But with the arrival of our family's first black and white TV in 1958 came "Dancing Bear" on Captain Kangaroo and the  "pick-a-nick"-basket-stealing Yogi ("smarter than the a-a-a-average bear") who, along with his sidekick Boo-Boo, modeled for us many clever ways to outsmart forest rangers. It was at about this same time that I first became aware of Smokey, who convinced me that I and I alone had the power to prevent forest fires.

Every year since I can remember, I have seen Smokey at our Missouri State Fair, held every August in my hometown. He is a staple in the Department of Conservation building there.

This version of Smokey is a large mechanical creature, decked out, as the song says, "[w]ith a Ranger's hat and shovel/and a pair of dungarees."  Against a backdrop of forest timber, he stands ready to deliver a little mini-lecture on fire safety in his gruff bear voice anytime a little forefinger dares to reach out and push his button. After a number of such button-pushings, Sooby poses with Smokey at last month's Fair:

As it turns out, Smokey celebrated his milestone 70th birthday on Aug. 9, the third day of our Fair. Hoai-Tran Bui in USA Today (7 Aug. 1014) identifies Smokey as "the face of the longest-running public service campaign in the U.S." Conceived primarily for children, Bui reports, Smokey came about due to the danger forest fires could pose in the western U.S. due to enemy fire during World War II.

The lovable bear's popularity got a further boost a decade later when a cub saved from a New Mexico fire was dubbed "Smokey" and given a home in the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. "Smokey even had his own zip code to accommodate all his fan letters," Bui writes.

Smokey's image has kept pace with the times and with modern technological trends. Not only does he have his own website, but he also has a place in today's social media. According to an Aug. 11 post on the CBS News website, Smokey has "joined Facebook and . . . has nearly 25,000 followers on Twitter."

The grandkids and I had a good time talking about Smokey's birthday. The occasion added a little something extra to our visit to the Conservation Building this year, although little Zoomie still prefers to keep a safe distance between himself and any bear,

When I told the kids that Smokey is just about the same age as Pa-pa, that really made them think. But then, when one of them asked me if Smokey had any grandkids, I had to do a little quick thinking of my own.

"I'm pretty sure he does," I said. "They probably had a big birthday party for him in the forest before he came out here to the Fair."

Happy Birthday, Smokey. Thanks to you, CBS figures the number of forested acres destroyed by fire is less than a third of what it was when you were born in 1944. Keep up the good work, my furry friend, and we'll see you at the Fair again next summer.

The August Tradition

If you find the month of August little more than a hot, boring hunk of time sandwiched between the Fourth of July and Labor Day, you need to spend some time where I live. For those of us here in my little hometown, August is synonymous with the eleven-day extravaganza known as the Missouri State Fair.

I have been to this Fair every year that I can remember. As a little kid I didn't think much past the carnival on the midway, but since then I have grown to appreciate the cultural significance of the much broader fair-going experience. Among other things, I have realized that a ninety-pound watermelon is a thing of beauty and that eating a corn dog is an art to be cultivated.

Over the years I have heard quite an impressive line-up of concert performers, mostly rock and country, who have sung and played in our outdoor grandstand. There are so many I can't remember them all, but at the moment I specifically recall Alabama, Three Dog Night, James Taylor, George Jones, Brooks and Dunn, Sarah Evans, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, the Oak Ridge Boys, Hank Williams, Jr., and the list goes on.

The arrival of six grandchildren over the past seven years has added a new dimension of Fair enjoyment that looks something like this:

We are minus the two youngest in this particular photo, but here you see Pooh, Sooby, Beenie,  Bootsie, and me on a route of exploration soon to include a petting zoo of exotic animals (who will gobble a $5 cup of feed out of our hands) and the amazing, life-size pair of cows sculpted (in the manner of the painting American Gothic) from a huge block of butter and housed in a refrigerated chamber at the Dairy Bar.

You would think I might grow tired of the Fair after sixty or so years of going there every August like clockwork. But, no, it is a much-loved tradition in our town in spite of the crowds and the traffic and the flies it brings in. And with this new generation coming on strong, I don't think the Missouri State Fair is a habit I am in danger of breaking anytime soon.









 

The Wristband

I am not too old to squeeze an impressive amount of value out of a carnival wristband.  This is the truth I learned this week when our State Fair returned to my hometown for its annual August visit and the kids came for their traditional opening-day trip there.

One of the pleasures of being Googie is that I get to buy the kids, during the week before the Fair arrives, a discount wristband at our local Walgreen's.  This little strip of paper adornment entitles them to unlimited rides for the duration of our adventure on the carnival midway.

Last summer I bought the bands for only Sooby and Pooh, since Bootsie, not yet two, was still too little to know all the fun she was missing.  But the problem was that Pooh fell a little short of the 36" height requirement for many of the rides that Sooby was more than tall enough for.  So I spent my midway time putting one on a ride, then the other, then returning to pick up first one and then the other in an intricately choreographed dance that kept me hopping all afternoon as I tried fervently not to lose a kid. 

This year, with the kids 6, 4 1/2, and almost 3, I could see that we would need a total of four wristbands.  To maximize the ride experience, it was clear that we would need an adult to accompany Bootsie, and often Pooh, on some of the rides where their little blonde heads backed up against the measuring sign and came up short.

So it was I who occupied the "swing" position when an adult was needed, sometimes with Bootsie and other times with both her and Pooh. As a result, I did five stints standing beside Bootsie's carousel horse and scrunched my long legs into more little trains and cars than I could count. 

As the afternoon wore on, it became apparent that Sooby was casting a wishful eye at many of the more daredevil-type rides that only she met the height requirement for.  So there came the moment of parting when Pooh and Bootsie went off with their parents while Sooby and I spent the rest of the evening getting my money's worth--and more than I bargained for--out of my wristband investment.

 

In analyzing my evening's experiences, I have carefully identified several desirable changes in my behavior and record them here for next year's reference under the heading "Notes to Self":

• Do not go into the house of mirrors.  The only way out is a two-story corkscrew slide that is not conducive to your body size and shape.  You should have noticed this before you went in instead of worrying about a claustrophobia attack.  The scab on your elbow serves as a reminder of your folly, and the way that man laughed at you explains a similar scab on your ego.  Let Sooby go alone all sixteen times next year.  She doesn't need you anyway. 

• Do not ride in a bumper car with Sooby driving.  She nearly killed you more than once.  This is why even now, three days later, every bone in your body still throbs, and your neck and back still smart with whiplash.  Remember that when the announcer says, "Push down on the pedal and turn the wheel," Sooby does this with a motion that can be described only as "sudden" and "drastic."  Your old body was not made to spin in tight circles while being slammed into from every direction.  Use some common sense, and send the kid in alone.

• Listen when the announcer says to take nothing with you on the white water log ride.   Remember how you had to hide your billfold down the back of your pants and stuff the candy apple under your T-shirt?  Sucking your gut in to hide the apple from the ride attendants does not optimize your comfort just before experiencing two drenching, death-defying plunges.  Next time, it would be better to leave all your stuff with a total stranger.  If that person decides to make off with all your personal belongings, you will still come out ahead.    

Next year, I resolve to be more generous.  Maybe I will give the extra wristband, if we still need one, to the kids' mama.  Wait a minute--what am I saying?  Next year, Zoomba will throw a barely-two-year-old into the mix. 

Make that five wristbands at $18.95 each.  That may sound like a lot of money, but, I assure you, this year's purchase was a bargain. 

It was priceless to hear Sooby cackle non-stop as she tried to maneuver our bumper car and to hear Pooh's exclamations, from the top of the ferris wheel, that the people and other objects on the ground looked "like toys."

Oh heck--give me the extra wristband.  Scabs heal with time, and candy apples do survive.