'Tis The Season

I'm an exceptionally visual person.  Always have been.  I have to see something to understand it... put a picture in front of me, show me how it's done.  Let me touch and do and I'm golden.  Tell me directions or how to do something, or make me listen to a lecture and I've got nothin'.  Give me a story problem and I'll just roll over and give up. (Ask any of my high school math teachers.)  

I think this visual tendency is why I associate so many items with actions.  A smell will bring up a memory or event.  Songs bring up instant memories of specific activities, people, stories, jokes, or moments in my past.  Certain times of year have associations with events and people.  A sweatshirt carelessly tossed in my tack box and then retrieved weeks later will transport me to a fair somewhere.  The Matrix soundtrack puts me on a windy road in southern Vermont at 5am, Cotton Eyed Joe puts me at any Jr. Holstein mixer in the past 15 years, and any Sugarland song puts me on a random adventure with Abby.  Warm rain in November means pineapples and flooding, and cold, wet, thick morning fog giving way to bright warm days means it's time for the Evergreen State Fair.

There may be no more telling feeling of what "time" of year it is though than fall in Wisconsin.  I've been here for summers before, and a couple times in the spring, but I've been in the Land Of Cheese every fall for nearly the last 15 years.  Those crisp mornings and bright but mild afternoons mean one thing - Expo.  It's an unmistakable feeling for this outsider.

2003 WSU Judging Team

The planning and preparation for this year's World Dairy Expo started more than 14 months ago.  I've been working on it steadily since July.  We all know it's coming.  How can you not?  If not for the countdown clocks on everyone's desks, surely the looming 2,500 head of cattle, over 1,000 exhibitors, and more than 70,000 spectators who will all be judging your work are a small reminder.  As are the endless interviews and inquiries.  

The days have been long - 10-12 hours at least.  No day is the same, the phone never quits ringing; there is always something to do and something that should have been done yesterday.  Last week, I was spray painting marks to lay curbing for our temporary city in 98 degree weather.  I know it's the time of year for Expo, the calendar tells me so, but it sure didn't feel like it.

This morning however, it was Expo time.  I walked out the door to chilly crisp air, sunshine, and not a cloud in the sky... and a sense of familiarity.  I felt a strong urge to find a grilled cheese and a red cushy stadium chair.  To hear accordion music and smell pine shavings.  I've been motivated for this job since the beginning.  But today it was like someone flipped a switch.  It's go time kids.  Nay, it's Expo time. 

I think we all associate "things" with "stuff".  It's how we remember special events and put ourselves back in the moment.  But really, for those who have been there, for those who live for this time of year and the opportunity to come together for the greatest show with the greatest people during the greatest time of year, it's almost Pavlovian.  There's less drool, but just as strong of a response.

So, if a pot-belly leaves New York loaded with 10 Jerseys and five Holsteins, four of which are All-Americans, traveling at an average speed of 61 miles per hour, and another pot leaves British Columbia loaded with 12 Brown Swiss and an Ayrshire, and a few are All-Canadian, traveling at an average speed of 67 miles per hour, how long until we pick Supreme Champion?