A Rural September

Small town fairs are, indeed, a treasure. I'm sure all of us can remember that yearly first taste of cotton candy on the midway (and the sticky fingers that came with it), begging our parents for a candy apple (and the subsequent visit from the tooth fairy), and having our artwork showcased for all to see. And who could forget that feeling you got on "prize day", when the teacher would hand you that white envelope with your name neatly written in cursive - the envelope may have only contained a few quarters or a couple of dollars, but on that day, you were someone. Somebody had seen the prose you so painstakingly copied out, crumpling pages and pages of foolscap as you made little mistakes (White Out was contraband). Somebody read that short story you wrote. Someone saw that jack-o-lantern you made of construction paper. And they thought you were worthy of the prize. Those few quarters were certainly not "just" a few quarters...they held the utmost significance and could boost your confidence through the roof.
That's why the small town fair is a flood of nostalgia and something so vital to communities like ours. Kids grow up. Traditions evolve. Fads come and go. The small town fair is, essentially, a reminder of our community - who we are when the Internet and the video games and the cell phones are turned off. It is a showcase of the talents we possess in a world that just may not seem to care anymore. It's togetherness - walking through the buildings noticing a neighbour's magnificent quilt work or a friend's giant pumpkin, which otherwise you may have been too busy to inquire about. (Things like giant pumpkins, I fear, rarely make sense to those who have been hardened by the facelessness of big cities.)
As I sat on the bleachers taking notes for this issue of the paper, children ran around me in their best pirate garb. A little girl with a giant lollipop politely said "excuse me", as she tumbled over my legs in pursuit of an older sibling. I saw some of my public school teachers, some old friends and acquaintances that have since relocated. The small town fair is a glimpse of the future of the community, blended with just the right amount of the past.
When it was announced that it was time for everyone to move down for the official pictures for the Guiness Book of Records, the enormous sense of pride this community has was evident on the faces in the crowd. On what other day would we have an excuse to put on wigs and hats and pirate patches, reply to most questions with a hearty "Arrrrrrr!", and see business people, politicians, and children alike wearing the same costumes? At what other time would any of us stand in a group with three hundred other people, pointing plastic swords at a camera in the air? After the official pictures were taken for the world record, it was said that this would be something to put Wallacetown on the map. Regardless of its status on the map, we are so lucky to have a gem like the Wallacetown Fair to look forward to every year.
Thanks, to you, the community, for making it happen. To the kids that spend hours on crafts, to the parents and teachers that organize them, categorize them, and send them all in. To the folks that hang these masterpieces up, and take them down. To everyone who spends time raising and showing livestock. To the young people brave enough to run for Ambassador, and the groups who sponsor them. To the creative minds behind the entertainment and themes to keep the fair fresh year after year. To the farmers, the bakers, the flower arrangers - thanks. To the entertainers, the burger flippers, and french fry servers - thanks. It would not be the same without every single one of you to hold up the tradition and small town atmosphere that is the Wallacetown Fair.


jloos