There is something enticing about shedding your typical persona and replacing it with another – even for a few hours. For me, that’s the main fun of helping to park cars at the Racine County Fair . . . It’s a little like a kid playing dress up in his or her parents’ closet – that is, if your parents have one of those bright-yellow safety vests hanging on a hook, plus one of those hand-held orange flags that we most often see on road crews. Related to that is the fun of stepping out of your element – your most comfortable and familiar setting- and inserting yourself into a setting that in some ways feels like another country. . . if not another planet! Not that I haven’t enjoyed county fairs over the years. I have very fond memories of the Cass County Fair back in Atlantic, Iowa – especially because some of my closest high school friends would be showing livestock or competing with things they had cooked or sewn, and it was fun and exciting and illuminating to see the life of the farm – a life and world I knew very little about – showcased and celebrated so exuberantly.
What makes the Racine County Fair seem like a sojourn to another country altogether is the fact that I basically don’t have any farmers in my current circle of friends (aside from my theater guild friend and fellow Luther alum Robbyn Wilks) and am not friends with anyone into tractor pulls and demolition derbies – so I can spend eight hours at the fair and not recognize a single soul (aside from the other Holy Communion folks helping to park cars.) And it goes the other way. At the Racine County Fair I am a complete Non-Entity. In five hours of parking cars, I was recognized by exactly one driver- a women who has seen me sing with the Racine Municipal Band and Kenosha Pops Band. That may not seem like that big a deal, but in most of the circles in which I circulate, people know who I am and I am used to being recognized. So yesterday served up a substantial slice of Humble Pie for me . . . an overdue slice of anonymity, many would argue, I’m sure. 🙂
The other pleasures and benefits are rather subtle but worth noting. One thing is that it’s always fun to know something that other people don’t know- and in this case, that something is “where they should park.” I get a kick out of being in charge, even if it’s just the handicapped lot at the Racine County Fair . . . and when you walk off your shift and see a parking lot that looks halfway orderly, it’s a great feeling to know that you had at least a little bit to do with it.
There’s also the pleasure of People Watching – and you see everything from Lovely to Loathsome through the course of a five hour shift of car parking. What’s becomes crystal clear before long is that you absolutely cannot predict what a given person is going to be like – big, burly, tattoo-covered guys can be sweet and cooperative . . . and diminutive, pearls-wearing little old ladies can be cranky contrarians who stop just short of running you over in their determination of park wherever the **** they choose. (Fortunately, I escaped the day without tread marks criss-crossing my body.) What is interesting about the handicapped lot is that you see a lot of people for whom a trip to the county fair is a huge undertaking; heck, just unloading their electric power scooter from the trunk looks likes an exhausting ordeal, let alone getting themselves to the front gate and then through the actual fair. Some of them seem to bear the burden with weary unhappiness and a prickly sense of entitlement – while others have found a way to be grateful and gracious. My single favorite person from the day was a middle-aged woman with a much older, frail- looking woman beside her in the front seat- her mother or grandmother, I assumed. In our brief interaction the driver was so sweet, and actually grateful for the little direction and assistance I was able to give her. Later in the day, when Kathy and I were walking the fairgrounds, we ended up behind them in the exhibit barn. . . and I realized that the older woman (by now in a wheelchair) was subject to almost continuous tremors which would occasionally give way to flailing limbs – and she could not utter a single coherent word. But here they were, taking in the fair together as best they could- and I found myself newly mindful of the good health and vigor which Kathy and I presently enjoy . . . and someday when old age begins to pile on its inevitable inconveniences (or worse) I hope the two of us will weather that with this kind of grace and patience.
Anyway, a city slicker like me learns so much in the course of a few hours at the county fair – including a not-so-subtle reminder of the amazing bounty which our farms share with the rest of the world . . . a look at the astonishing variety of roosters (and what a glorious chorus of cacophony when they all start cocka-doodle-doodling) . . . the simple yet astonishing sight of a chick hatching from an egg . . . the chance to feel the incredible softness of a sheep right after its been shorn of its wool . . . to watch how tenderly a mother goat tends to its newborn offspring . . . scenes from a world which most of us know so little about and to which we give so little thought – but a world upon which we are all utterly dependent for our very lives.
And just for the chance to be reminded of all that is reason enough to park cars at the county fair!
pictured above: yours truly at the end of my shift, which is why I have such a big grin on my face. Parking cars is fun but it’s physically exhausting as well. But I was happy to do it. By the way, this is the major annual fundraiser for our congregation’s youth group.