A Fair is a fair is a fair...

I’m nearly one week “postfair” now.  Like postpartum, but different.  Well, not all that different really.  Similarities can be drawn between the two.  In both instances, you plan and prepare, you nurse something along and grow it until it makes its shining debut to the world.  You hope everything goes smoothly and wonder if you’re really ready for all this.  A fair and a kid really aren’t that different when you think about it.

That being said, a fair is a fair is a fair is a fair.  It doesn’t matter where it is held, they are all the same.  There are still kids and animals, projects that impress, food and rides, and of course, drama.  I have experienced a county fair in just about every capacity one can experience a county fair – as a spectator, as an exhibitor, as a judge, and now as an administrator/management.  Each time and in each varying capacity you observe something different and learn something new. 

As an exhibitor I cannot tell you anything that happens at any given fairgrounds if it occurs more than 100’ from the dairy barn, or is not on the direct route to the parking lot from the barns.  People come through the barns and ask all the time, “where is ____?”  They always stare back with shock and guffaw when I say I have no clue.  No lie, last year was the first time since I was 10 years old that I leisurely strolled around the Western Washington State Fairgrounds just to take it all in.  And after I had, I looked at the friend I was with and said something to the effect of, “well that was a first… and probably a last.”  As a judge, I head straight for the ring, get the job done, probably grab a burger or a scone (more Wisconsin’s drastic oversight in omitting the Fair Scone from their festivities later), and head home. 

It’s not that I don’t enjoy a good fair.  I love every single thing that a county fair stands for and what it represents – food, friends, kids, families, etc.  It’s just that I’m pretty much just there for the cows, not the crowds.

 

The view from the dairy barn.  See... good things are always centered around cows.

Having made it through my first county fair as an administrator, I have to say, it was an interesting experience to observe a fair from the inside.  I was involved in every aspect of the fair, not just the animals this time.  I felt 110% comfortable handling questions or disputes and offering advice and guidance in the livestock realm, but wow, get me over to handle the pocket pets (how exactly do you display snakes, bearded dragons, rats, and hamsters in the same area without causing some kind of critter to have a heart attack and another to lick its lips??) or to decipher how one evaluates a bucket of silage or a knitted hat and I am lost. 

But let’s focus back to the livestock side of things.  Let’s go where I’m comfy…  Watching these kids work with their animals, don their whites or show jeans, drag themselves in a little slower and slower (and perhaps a little later and later) each morning to do what they love was like watching our kids at home.  Let’s be honest.  It doesn’t matter where you are, these kids are one in the same.  They are hard workers.  They are spunky and compassionate, they know right from wrong, they know juuuuust how hard to push something or someone before it’s time to high-tail it back to the barn.  They know how to have a good time, that a straw pack is the best place for a nap, and that the wash rack on a hot Sunday afternoon is a dangerous place to be.  They know that the bedding goes down and the heifers are washed and fed before you even think about breakfast.  They all know that a purple ribbon is the best pay-off for their efforts, but the older kids know that a third or fourth blue can be just as important as a rosette if they had fun, and the really wise older kids know that if they can teach another kid or be a role model, a mid-level blue is juuuust fine.

 

Junior champion Registered Holstein.  Oh yes, they have such a big 4-H show, they split it up into Registered and Grade, and Dane County is just an average-sized 4-H show out here.

Part of my job included coordinating the Master Showman contest (Wisconsin’s version of Round Robin for you Washingtonians who read that and went “huh” – just like I did the first time).  We needed to refresh the shavings in the ring, move some chairs around, set up all the awards and paperwork, etc.  Now, Wisconsin apparently does not believe in shavings unless they come in a bag.  Baled shavings are da bomb apparently.  So, as we’re schlepping bales of shavings around the arena, up comes a couple kids.  “Need a hand??”  “Sure, thanks,” I responded and watched as these two kids, probably no more than 8 and 12, already hot and sweaty, drug bales around and spread out shavings right alongside us, smiling the whole time.  “You let me know if you need anything else,” said the youngest boy.  “I’ll be right over there with my sheep,” he said as he pointed in the general direction of approximately 50 lambs who all looked the same.  THAT is a 4-H kid right there; always willing to help, respectful, and a joy.  But I digress…

As I sat and watched, tabulating scores and timing the rotations, I couldn’t help but think back to my own experiences in Round Robin, and to more recent years, watching the kids at Evergreen.  These showmen finished up their rounds, returned to their animals and waited.  I know that feeling oh-so-well, wondering how you did and thinking back to that damn pig that wouldn’t stay out of the corner. 

We announce the results of our Master Showman from the bottom up, and each kid gets a cash award.  Names were called, and soon there were just two… the beef showman and the swine showman.  Then the beef girl’s name was announced, and the whole crowd knew the swine boy had won.  A cheer went up from the crowd, a grin covered his face, and he was handed a trophy the size of a small child.  But that’s not the cool part.  The best part of the whole afternoon was when the other four showmen, still holding on to their respective animals with one hand, smothered him in one ginormous group hug.  This wasn’t a little hug out of formality.  This was a full-on, smothering, giggling, squealing, animals looking on with a “what in the…” look on their faces, pure glee, hug.  These kids were genuinely happy for that boy.  It oozed from them.

Watching this, I couldn’t help but think of the image of the dairy kids after Round Robin at Evergreen.  It started one year after a dairy kid had won, and he was hoisted upon the shoulders of his peers, as his friends gathered round, and posed for a picture.  This tradition continued for a handful of years, and was a mandatory pose before everyone dispersed for the following barn put-luck dinner.  These WI kids are no different from those WA kids or any other 4-H kids across the country…  they learn life lessons, form friendships and bonds stronger than steal, and have life experiences that will stick with them for the rest of their lives.

 

The trophy-hoister is a bit more wee than our Snohomish County winners, but it's the same premise. 

Each fair has little things that make it unique, but really, they’re all the same, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.