State Fair

State Fair

When it’s state fair time

I must go at least once

If not twice or even three times

I might miss something

Something big

And everyone I know will be there

If I can’t be there, something is wrong

Like some silent disease

I’d grow jealous of the happy adults

Waving their corndogs at the television cameras

Smiling because they’ve reentered childhood

And I have not.

My history is carved into its buildings, its grounds

Once the fair opens

Ghosts of my past reopen like a well-loved book

Full of memories, moments

Reliving my stories from the outside in.

Early morning, I meet friends at the Star Tribune

The foot of the grandstand

The concrete bridge leads you up into its second floor

A windowless garage

Reminding me of a flea market in Florida

Ronco salesmen and Christian book retailers call out to me

“Take a look at this!”

United Stores has moved away and so has the customized dog tags

That I bought in honor of my first boyfriend

Walk sidewalks that I walked the year before

And the year before that

Crossing my own path

Walking around in circles like a lost hiker

In search of a cheese curd or a fudge puppy

Or the nearest bathroom on a stick

Leaping over legs,

Dodging strollers spread out to rest

On street curbs and small patches of green grass

Trampled and wet

I stop for food

The Armour foot long by the haunted house

The mini donuts near the Grand Stand

The food building shuffle

Peters hotdogs, French fries, taffy, and elephant ears

Stopping in at the art center, dog and 4H exhibits,

Butter carvings in the dairy building

Stumbling over seniors in Heritage Square

Whose numbers double every year

A mandatory appearance at the barns

To greet animals’ behinds

Pick out a favorite goat, horse, and swine

Ask myself why there are chickens in the sheep barn?

Head over to the coliseum, so I can walk another circle

Stop for horses trotting in for their show

Spilled beer mixes comfortably in the dust

Urban cowboys and girls walk with chocolate covered strawberries,

Trying on western shirts and picking out oysters with pearls

One stop for cheese curds

Another at the Giant Slide

I walk by honey candy, bees and flowers

I ignore  “all the milk you can drink” signs

because the price is too high

a beer at the bazaar makes much more sense

I spread  myself over to

Ye Old Mill and

The Midway at dusk

So grateful that the carnie yelling is not my nephew

Feet aching, but content I ride the bus home with

Overtired, sugar induced children and parents passed out on fun

I return with bags and papers,

One more yard stick for the closet

And a half filled container of Sweet Martha’s

Tired and surprisingly hungry for something a bit more healthy

and less expensive than a $6 hot dog

I did it, I’m done.

“How was the fair?” my friends ask

“Oh the same” I answer. 

But that’s why I like it

Robin Sauerwein

August 22, 2012