Thursday Before State Fair

"We’re so caught up in our everyday lives that events of the past are no longer in orbit around our minds. There are just too many things we have to think about everyday, too many new things we have to learn. But still, no matter how much time passes, no matter what takes place in the interim, there are some things we can never assign to oblivion, memories we can never rub away. They remain with us forever, like a touchstone.” ~  Haruki Murakami

The Thursday before State Fair always brings back good memories for me.  I never paid any attention in school that day.  (Sorry, Mrs. Franklin, don't be mad!)  I was too excited and too busy doing mental checks of whether we remembered to pack the sleeping bags and the electrolytes and the lucky can of Revive.

The State Fair was probably my favorite week of the year.  There were the cool early morning feedings and analyzing weights with Mr. Franklin and street dances in front of Tingley and camping in the back corner of the dorms.  There were friends to see and boys to hold hands with on the dorm steps and sheep to be showed.  We won buckles and earned sale holes and I made my craziest showing dream come true and my Dad sported his "lucky shirt" even after it was covered in holes.  There were crockpots full of Posole, red cups full of beverages, and little boys full of Tom Thumb donuts.  We ate ice cream before the sale with The Little Blonde Boy and smothered burritos at Taco Hut with Mr. Franklin and Uncle David insisted that if we'd eat the veggies at the Teriyaki Chicken Bowl we wouldn't go home sick.  We snuck onto the floor for concerts, stole signs off of the top of Tingley, and always went one restaurant past Steak in the Rough, which was our official boundary (because bad things happened on the Midway).  It was on those grounds that I learned Mother Theresa had died, that Princess Diana had been in a crash, and that the Twin Towers had been attacked.  And it was there where I made some of my best friends and favorite memories.

It's amazing that one place--somewhere I spent only 1/52 of my year--holds so many memories.  But it does.  And that's why I go back every year.  There's something about that place--the people--the sounds--the smells.  But mostly, there's something about the memories.