Observations From the County Fair

I have spent several hours at the Canfield Fair, the largest county fair in the state. By some reports, it is larger than the state fair. There are many reasons to visit the fair. Mine had to do with business and with a promise made to a grandchild who apparently did not get enough of deep-fried whatever and spleen-dislocating rides at Kennywood this summer.


Of course, one of the major reasons to attend any county fair is the opportunity to gawk at the strange people who always show up. For those who like to gawk, the fair is a target rich environment (thanks, Jim for the phrase). So, in the spirit of my very first post on this blog, I want to submit my observations from this year’s Canfield Fair (my observations in no way reflect the opinion of the Canfield Fair board, the city of Canfield, Canfield Township, the police and fire departments, the 4 H clubs, or various and sundry livestock exhibited, and sold only to be slaughtered and consumed by hungry carnivores).

• So how many bits of metal could one place in his lip before it begins to generate its own magnetic field? Just wondering.

• Who was the rocket scientist that came up with the idea of chocolate covered bacon? Really? Bacon needs no improvement, but if it did, chocolate is not the answer. I know this is true, because a scientific poll was taken in which 3 people who tried it thought it was disgusting. I was one of those included in the survey, as was my wife and our friend Bethanie who forced it on us (“force” may be a strong word, but what else do you call a triple-dog-dare)?

• Here is an aside on the bacon comment. As wife and I were having dinner, we sat near a couple from Pittsburgh. I began to regale them with the story of the chocolate covered bacon, and they did me a story better. It seems they were travelling in Northwest PA, when they saw an ice cream stand that advertized 40 flavors. One of them was “candied bacon” (my wife was there and she will vouch for this. I may lie from time to time, but she doesn’t). So the man ordered it – not a sample or a single scoop mind you, but a double scoop in a waffle cone! I immediately sensed a problem here. If you were to want to taste ice cream, say with liver, would you order the largest they had? Anyway, he told his wife, “You know, I did not think that those 2 things would taste good together, and I was right.” I didn’t ask if he ate the whole thing. As you can tell, there are so many layers to this conversation that it could be its own post some day.

• If the guy who guesses your weight stands there perplexed and scratching his head when he sees you, then don’t you think that you might ought to pass on that second round of deep-fried Moon Pies?

• Please tell me you didn’t pay good money for those jeans with rips and holes. If I would have tried to wear something like that, my mom would have plastered them with so many iron-on patches that the legs would be too stiff to move. Note to mom: it didn’t really make a difference that you ironed them on from the inside. They still looked like patches. I still got made fun of.

• What about the kid with the hat. How can I describe this hat? Words fail me – no, scratch that – the words have not yet been invented. The hat was a hideous mix of a babushka, Indian headdress, skull cap, and afghan. Speaking to his friend on his cell phone, he says, “I’ll wave my hand so you can see me.” Wave his hand? How about saying, “Find the hat?”

• I am sure that this guy wanted everyone to think he was from Texas, but who comes from Texas to the Canfield Fair in Ohio, for cryin out loud? Did he ride his horse up the interstate? He had a black cowboy hat, cowboy jeans and shirt, cowboy boots, and a cowboy belt buckle wide enough to interfere with the live TV feed from the local newscasts. His Texas drawl was so thick that you needed an interpreter. But, I really think he was some frustrated cowboy from the East side who began to talk like a cowboy when he dressed like one. Give me a break! There is nothing more ridiculous than a guy from Youngstown acting like he just came in from the Ponderosa.

• And finally, I know that this will reveal my “oldness,” but, what’s with the really short shorts the girls are wearing nowadays? Come on, they are shorter than the underwear that grandma used to hang out on the clothes line (which was such a site that local zoning inspectors showed up every wash day). I know I will never get this, but why wear shorts so short they are nearly obscene and then bundle up with a hoodie when you get cold? Simple physics would tell you that there are more square inches exposed than covered. How does that keep you warm?

So, next year, why not come to the Fair? If you do, bring a notebook. You will want to take notes.