AT THE FAIR

If there is one constant in the life of the Mahoning Valley, it is the Canfield Fair. For the most part, it looks the same today as it did when I went for the first time over 50 years ago. If there is change, it is slow. No technology here.

It might not be the largest county fair in the country, but my guess it would be close to the top of the list. Even when attendance is down, the figures are staggering. What is even more interesting is that it is smack in the middle of the rust belt, and is adjunct to what is thought to be an industrial area. Who grows corn here? Well, a lot of people. The northeast quadrant of Mahoning County may be industrial, but the rest of it is about as rural as one can get, and so are the adjoining counties. 11,600 acres of Mahoning County land grows corn, producing 1.4 million bushels/year.

I have mixed feelings about the fair. In this area, it is the traditional end of summer. For students, it the last fling before school starts. It is alternately beastly hot, or cold and rainy. There are very few things worse than the Canfield Fair in the rain. Most of us have stories to tell about trying to dig our way out of the muddy parking lots, then going home and whining we will never go there again, at least until next year.

Then there are the farm animals. I don’t care for the animal barns. They are smelly and dirty. But I have to admire all the FFA and 4H kids that work hard all year to compete in an area I know nothing about. They are good kids who are proud of their accomplishments.

As for the food, you could rename the place Coronary City. The rule du jour is if you can eat it, you can fry it. Everything is fried, from pickles to ice cream to butter. Do you think I could buy some fried Lipitor?

Every year I say I am not going to go to the fair. This year was no exception. But my son loves to work the Republican tent, and as he left last night to do his political thing he said, I’ll see you out there. So rather than sitting around watching political rants on television, I took him up on his offer and made the trek to the fairgrounds.

If ever there was perfect night for such festivities, it was last night. It was in the mid-60’s, and not a cloud in the sky. As the evening wore on, a full moon rose over the grandstand. It was perfect. My wife was tired from a very long week and decided to stay home and nap. So I was there by myself…well sort of. I found myself a bench along the main concourse to rest my weary bones. I got a telephone call on my cell phone from my 96 year old uncle and chatted with him for awhile. My late cousin and I used to go to the fair together when we were kids. Then all sorts of friends and acquaintances walked by and provided a whole bunch of great conversation.

Just sitting there let my mind wander back to when I was small, and the gold fish I would bring home every year that would die a week later. I remembered my first time there as a teenager without my folks or other relatives keeping tabs on me. I remembered bringing my wife out there for the first time, as well as my late father-in-law. And mostly I remembered bringing my son out there, and how we schemed behind my wife’s back to go out there more than once or twice, and the laughs we had doing it.

Love it or hate it, the Canfield Fair is part of everyone from the Mahoning Valley…and we are the better for it.