FAIR

Last minute and on a whim, Michael and I decided to check out the Leavenworth County Fair on Saturday. We didn’t really have much going on that day to begin with. We’re still in limbo with the garage clean out while we wait for the new garage door. That’s happening on Wednesday this week and I’m still trying to muster excitement and happiness over this purchase. I’m sure once I have a remote in my hand and a functional door, I will be thrilled and wondering why I hadn’t pushed for a new garage door sooner. Maybe it will be part of Friday’s gratitude post. Any way, Saturday seemed like an ideal time to visit a county fair.

When Michael pulled into the pasture parking lot, I looked over at the small fairgrounds and for a minute thought that we had traveled to my hometown county fair. I guess I was expecting something bigger for some reason, but this county fair was just like the county fair I attended every year while growing up in Collinsville. We walked into the one building of the fairgrounds that had been divided into a handful of exhibitor booths. The other half was filled up with fair entries and I found myself having to explain to Michael why there were tables of jams and pickles and ziplock baggies of half eaten cookies. He was floored by the whole process, that people enter baked goods or crafts and receive ribbon prizes. I was floored that I had to explain it all. Had he never been to a fair before?!? When we got to the photography entries, Michael paused and then said “Wait. Why don’t you ever enter anything?” I just shrugged. Eventually we made it to a display of participants in the 4-H dog show. Among all the smiling faces there was a picture of a girl with her beagle. I smiled and pointed it out saying “look! It me!”

And in a way, it was.

The first time we cleaned out my childhood home, I came across two large boxes filled with ribbons and trophies all from entering crafts and sewing projects into the fairs. The trophies and plaques were from the years I showed my beagle, Odie. We were good, grand champion good. It may be a surprise to some that I trained a beagle in obedience considering how little obedience training I’ve done with Josephine. I taught Josephine the bare minimum of manners and a number of tricks. Her down stays are pretty good, but she leads when we’re on walks. I threw those boxes of ribbons and trophies into the dumpster with no regrets. It’s not that I am not proud of those accomplishments. On our first day in obedience training classes, the teacher told me that I would never be able to train a beagle for obedience shows. Turns out I am as stubborn as a beagle and will never let anyone tell me what I can’t do. Odie was off lead by the time we won our third grand championship. Odie was the best dog and my first broken heart. I went years without a dog after he passed, just unable to open my life to another dog.

That’s not why I threw those ribbons and trophies away though. I tossed them because they reminded me of how hard I worked to contort myself into the kind of shape that would win medals. I didn’t make anything without asking myself “how would someone judge this? Is this good enough for a blue ribbon?” And it wasn’t even really about winning a blue ribbon. It was about winning many blue ribbons. The more ribbons, the bigger the potential scholarship. See? It wasn’t even for fun. My 4-H career was a long game for a bigger payout, college tuition. But it was also years of scrutiny and judging and aiming for an impossible perfection. So when Michael asks me why I don’t enter things in the fair now, I can only shrug because the actual answer is too complicated. It is hard enough putting my words and art out there knowing that there are some who judge the content. The only thing that makes it easy is that I don’t ever receive a written score card attached to ‘place’ ribbon. My art gets out there because I say it’s worthy of notice, I think the picture is good, I think the words fit together nicely. The big payout now is the joy I feel at seeing my stuff out there.

I sighed with relief as we left that building. I looked at Michael and said “let’s go see the pigs!” Then we wandered through the barns and Michael finally understands why we should get a goat. Michael ate a corndog while I ate a caramel apple and contemplated how much skin I would burn if I went down the giant slide. Michael asked if I wanted to ride the slide, but I looked at the sun reflecting off it and turned back to him and said “I’m good.” That was that. The county fairs in Kansas are about the same as the ones in Oklahoma and they haven’t changed much.

But I have.