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View from Hickory Heights: Memories of the fair

When I mention “the fair” I am referring to the fair where I grew up; the one on Central Avenue in Dunkirk. At first that fair was held beginning on Labor Day. My mother always took me to the fair. I remember one night when we were at the fair. It started to rain so we headed for my uncle’s house. They lived just past the viaduct in an apartment. When we got arrived, it was not raining there but was still raining at the fairgrounds. That was the strangest thing.

The day after the start of the fair was the first day of school. We only went half a day that first day. We had the afternoon off to go to the fair.

I would say I was in the upper elementary years when I was allowed to go on my own. My grandfather and grandmother would take us to the gate, then we were on our own to get home.

We did not need much money in those days. Each ride was ten cents. The food was not that expensive either. My mother always told me to eat at one of the booths that was local. We usually ate at the Lions’ Club booth because I knew people who worked that booth.

My mother loved the waffles so I always bought some of those to take home for her. I liked the taffy and candy apples. I enjoyed some of each.

I loved to collect things from the buildings. We picked up yard sticks, pens, pencils, pads of paper and a few other things. We also walked through the building that housed homemade exhibits. It was fun to see the things that people made.

Of course, a trip through the barns was a must. Although I knew little about farming, I liked to see the animals. I even liked to pet them. That is where I saw my first calf born. Paula and I spent a lot of time waiting for it to be born. What a learning opportunity.

Fast forward twenty years. I was married to a farmer and my children were in 4-H. We took animals to the fair. This time it was the Warren County Fair.

The children carefully washed their animals and attempted to keep them clean for the show. Since my children were young, they took animals that were small. Of course, we took animals from our own herd.

My husband was at home milking the herd of cattle. I was there with the children. The barn at the fair was home that week. The children spent most of their time in the barn. They made many new friends. They saw school friends as they wandered through the barn. By Thursday afternoon they were allowed to go on the rides. They took off with their friends and cousins to ride.

Add another ten years and we were involved in the fair in a different way. Jill, our daughter, was the Dairy Princess. Then, the next year she was the first Fair Queen. That fall I was elected to the board of directors. For the next nineteen years we camped there. I helped in the exhibit buildings. I worked in the band’s ice cream booth. I did on-air interviews for the radio and television. I enjoyed taking the 4-H kids to do interviews about their animals. I knew that I could not ask them questions that required a simple “yes or no” answer. I had to get them to talk.

For years I worked with another director as we prepared the publicity. She had someone who did the radio and television advertising. When he decided to give that up, I took on those duties. Although I hoped to get some help, I knew I could not hand off a job that I knew little about. In the end those that I advertised with always got to me early so it was not a hard job.

Once my husband retired from farming, he became my photographer. He was good often climbing up in the rafters to get unique pictures. The year following his death was hard. I had things to do. I had grandchildren to take care of, but it was still a very lonesome time. I ran for the board again but then quit before my three-year term was up. It had become a full-time job and that I did not want.

Fast forward seventeen years. I was remarried. My husband camped at the fair with me. Contrasting his first attitude that he would not want to stay for the week, it turned out he loved it. We boarded his dog since he is a barker. My dog came with us. It was a very good week.

Now I am on my own again. I vividly remember the sadness I felt when my first husband died and I was on my own. I had responsibilities but it was not enough. This year I opted not to camp. Although I plan to visit several days, I will come home to the dogs. That is for the best!

Ann Swanson writes from her home in Russell, Pa. Contact at hickoryheights1@verizon.net.

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