Fun at the county fair

            Growing up in Louisiana, where lands are divided into parishes, county fairs were only for Yankees. When we moved to Fort Bend County, people were excited about the county fair, and we weren't quite sure what to expect.

            Our first step into win-a-goldfish land was when our daredevil boys were tall enough to ride the big rides. Those clanking metal monsters are what I picture when I think of the fair, even though it's been at least 15 years since I held my breath while my boys rode the Tilt a Wheel.

            For some, it's the smells of cotton candy and fried turkey legs that define the county fair experience. Others can't wait for the rodeo attractions, the cattle and horses defining the fair for them.

            There are some who do nothing but complain – the fair's too dirty, too commercial and not what they remember.

            It's easy to single out those superficial aspects, but in the process, we forget the enchantment at the Fairgrounds.   

            Rising up in the sky from the comfort of a Ferris wheel gondola and seeing the county from high up in the sky is a treat like no other. If we're lucky enough to pause and sway at the top, we can literally see for miles.

            For those who whine about the high calorie and fat count of the funnel cakes, I can't argue. But I can point to the delicious first taste of a funnel cake, dusted with confectionary sugar as proof that there is a way to bottle satisfaction.  

            Some complain about the crowds. It's easy to overlook happy moms and dads pushing strollers when we're on the lookout for pickpockets or thieves. It's also easy to become cynical about the carnival workers, dismissing them as second-class citizens.

            We don't watch them take down all those carnival booths late at night after everyone's gone home nor do we know what it's like to live on the road 10 months out of the year. They're the worker bees in this greased metal hive, and they make sure rides are safe for our families.

            Over on a side stage, singers warm up to participate in the fair's talent contest. There are professional singers on the program, but most folks would rather see someone they know belt out "Crazy" by Patsy Cline.

            Away from the midway lights, one can find the exhibit halls. Inside are shelves filled with jars of jellies, pickles and relishes, their creators all hoping to win a coveted blue ribbon. Plants, quilts, paintings, photos and crafts of all kinds are on display, some with ribbons and others boasting coveted rosettes.

            Many people miss my favorite part of the fair – exhibits by the youngsters. For the past year, dedicated young people have been nursing and grooming a steer, pig, chicken, cow or lamb.

            They brushed the animal's coat until it glistened like velvet; and at the auction, they stand by while their animal is sold to the highest bidder. They do so with a stiff upper lip because they understand life on a farm and that the money goes to a scholarship fund to help them go to college.

            After 30 years, I've come to realize the county fair isn't just a once-a-year event. The preparation goes on year round, from youngsters raising chicks, bands preparing to march in the annual parade and hundreds of committed volunteers working behind the scenes.

            Because of them, we can watch our child win a blue ribbon and admire a silvery moon from the top of a Ferris wheel.

            I wouldn't have it any other way.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.