Where I grew up, a small little town in New Hampshire, we had an annual Fair. It was the Cornish Fair, but around town it is just “The Fair”. A typical country fair with rides, animals, and a queen. From the moment you were old enough to venture a few minutes away from your parents, it was the social event of the season. It was THE place to meetup with friends you hadn’t seen over the summer and show off that new OP (yes, Ocean Pacific and I am a teenager of the 80’s) painter’s cap you picked up in your summer’s travels. I lived for the fair.
Fast forward, years away and years older…fairs are not my favorite thing. In fact, they are close to one of my least favorite things. As much as I love a good bag of cotton candy and watching the horse pulling, the fair brings the too many hot, sweaty, grimy folks too close together.
But, my kids love it.
In previous years, I’ve pawned them off on my husband, my mom, and even my sister used a vacation day last year to take MY kids to the Cornish Fair. Everyone was letting me know, in a not so subtle way, that it was my turn. So, I thought about it. I thought back to when I was CC’s age, and my sister and I were with my Dad two hours away in Massachusetts over the course of the fair weekend. Yes, you know what’s coming next, he drove us back and forth 2 hours each way in one day from Fort Devens to Cornish, so we could meet up with friends and spend the day at the Fair. I thought about that and realized I really had no argument.
So, with two friends in tow, we spent what I will remember as a pretty darn good day. I lived the fair through my children’s eyes. In all fairness, it was unusually cool, with a threat of rain. That may have led to no crowds…and yes, that may have had a lot to do with my enjoyment, but we’ll keep that one to ourselves…