Ali Elizabeth

“Fair Time”

There are some things that instantly take you back to being a kid, and for me, fair season is one of them.

Growing up in a small town, fair week wasn’t just another event on the calendar. It was the event. We always had rides and I counted down the days until they arrived. I can still remember riding my bike up to the Henderson County Fairgrounds just to see if they had started setting up yet. There was something magical about watching empty grass transform into a midway full of lights, laughter, and excitement.

One of my favorite memories is riding my bike up there to see if the rides were set up yet with curlers in my hair, getting ready for the Little Miss pageant. Yes, actual curlers. Looking back now, I can’t help but laugh, but at the time it felt like the most important day of my young life. I was convinced those curls were going to make all the difference.

Once the rides were running, there was no stopping us. We rode everything. And then we rode it again. You name it, my brother and I were riding it! We squeezed every last second out of those ride tickets because fair week only came around once a year.

Of course, every fair has its own soundtrack. The screams coming from the rides. The announcer calling out derby results. The chatter from families catching up with neighbors they hadn’t seen in a while. And then there were the fair animals. Anyone who grew up attending county fairs knows exactly what I mean when I say the smell was unforgettable. Sometimes very unforgettable. Yet somehow, it all felt like part of the experience.

The Henderson County Fair was our home fair, but the fun didn’t stop there. Like so many small-town families, my mom and dad loaded us up and took us to fairs all over the area. Summerfest in La Harpe was always one of my favorites. We have so many photos of mom and dad waving to us and we whizzed by on the fake motorcycle ride. To this day, I remember riding the Scrambler until I was dizzy and laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

What I appreciate even more now is that my dad never stood on the sidelines while we rode. He climbed right on the rides with us. He’d squeeze into those tiny seats and spin around with my squealing without complaining once. And if you can believe it, not much has changed. Even now, as adults, he’s still willing to hop on a ride and make memories with us. As kids, we thought the rides were what made the fair special. As adults, I realize it was the people we shared them with.

And let’s talk about fair food for a minute. No matter how old I get, I still can’t walk past a fair corn dog. I’ve eaten them at county fairs, town festivals, and state fairs, and somehow they always taste exactly like summer. Maybe that’s why I keep buying them. It’s not just the corn dog I’m after but more the memory attached to it.

The older I get, the more I realize how lucky we were to grow up in communities that still celebrate these traditions. In a world that seems to move faster every year, there’s something comforting about a county fair. The animals still fill the barns. The derby still shakes the grandstands. Kids still run around with sticky fingers and unlimited energy. And for a few days every summer, we’re all reminded of what it felt like to be young.