Thursday, August 18, 2011
Reflections of a State Fair junkie
Posted by Nora Spitznogle on Thu, Aug 18, 2011 at 1:51 PM
Growing up, I thought that the words “vacation” and “State Fair” meant the same thing. Our only family trip was, after all, a day-long one to Indianapolis.
As a kid, I’d save up my earnings from selling sweet corn and pulling weeds in the soybean fields. My purchases always included an engraved charm from the booth in front of the Coliseum and Mexican jumping beans from the Exposition Hall.
We looked at every single jar of pickles and pieces of pie in the Home and Family Arts Building and gawked at the giant sunflowers and freakishly perfect vegetables in the Agriculture/Horticulture Building.
The Poultry Barn had little fluffy chicks on a tiny conveyor belt with a swinging cup that would dole out a speck of grain to each chick before it slid back down a little chute.
We would look at well-groomed cows and shiny pigs and shorn sheep in the other huge barns. Pioneer Village was still housed underneath the shade of the Grandstand bleachers, and the activities in the northeast corner of the Fairgrounds were sparse.
As an adult, I was surprised to find that I appreciate the State Fair even more than ever. I live just a few blocks from the Fairgrounds and am able to walk or ride my bike; heady stuff for a farm kid.
I’ve participated in the Open Show in the Home and Family Arts Building for the last fifteen years, and I’m just as proud of my ribbons in the Ugly Lamp competition as my ones for baking.
For the last five years I’ve attended the State Fair every single day. I’ve gotten to explore all of the nooks and crannies and witness the tremendous effort that it takes to pull off such an amazing event.
Saturday’s stage collapse was shocking in many ways. It was such a juxtaposition to the sunshine and laughter that typify the State Fair for me. Having leaned my elbows against that very stage dozens of times waiting for a concert to start so I could snap photos, I was horrified to think of the guys high above the action running the lights and other folks that work so hard to make the shows happen.
But the tragedy also reminded me of why I love the State Fair — Hoosiers at their best, whether in fun or adversity. My colleagues and neighbors pulled out all of the stops Saturday night to help the injured; as Governor Daniels said, “there was a hero every ten feet.”
It was eerie walking in to the Fairgrounds Monday morning. The familiar sounds of laughter, Midway rides, tractors and animals were replaced by solemn silence.
I think they did a marvelous job with the memorial ceremony. My burst-into-tears moment came when the Pioneer Village volunteers rode by in a funeral parade with antique tractors and mourning bunting on their wagons. My burst-into-laughter moment came just a bit later when I learned the Pioneer Village team had fashioned the black bunting from “borrowed” tablecloths from a catering event elsewhere on the Grounds.
Soon after the ceremony ended, the familiar sights and sounds and smells filled the air. Hearing the steam engines from the threshing demonstrations and the whirl of the Midway and the sound of Lemon Shakeups being shaken reminded me that there is still plenty to do and see.
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