Of Fall Fairs and First Days of School...The Cost of Laughter...

We were stopped at a light when fro out of the backseat, I heard Isobel make a revelation.
Isobel: "Daddy, I'm evil.
Daddy: "I don't doubt that for a second."
Isobel: "No seriously. I'm evil. Like evil."
Daddy: "OK, I'll bite. Why are you evil?"
Isobel: "I'm evil because I smiled at him." (The Boy that is)
Daddy: "How does smiling at him make you evil?"
Isobel: "No, I smiled at him evil. Like evil. You know, like E-VILLE?"




Ah yes we have entered the most sacred season of the year...fall fair time. Time for crap rides and crap games and crap food in all of their rude hillbilly, horse manure sodden glory. Our local fair was this past weekend and I was particularly excited to go as this is the first year that both kids are of an age to really enjoy all the fair has to offer.
I have very fond memories (likely all false memories) of the New Hamburg fair and the excitement it held. Wandering the gigantic fairgrounds...well, they seemed gigantic to me then. The sounds and smells and sights. We always seemed to go at night...at least that is what I remember the most, the lights of the rides I always said I would go on and then chicken out at the end...The Octopus is still one of my arch nemeses...and the game barkers calling out to me from beneath the glow of fluorescent lighting. One spin for two bucks and you could get a green tin shamrock necklace with your name engraved on it. 'Why yes sonny, I'll engrave her for you right here.' I was frightened and intrigued and pissed away most of my allowance trying to get the god-damned shamrock necklace.
I also remember two things that will say something about the time I grew up in which makes me sound like I am older than my years but the thought of these couple of things makes me sit back and grin when you put next to the things my kids see and say every day. I remember that if you really wanted to, you could get a tattoo at the New Hamburg fall fair. Not a painted on or henna kinda fake tattoo (though I think you could get the fakey kind too) a real friggin' tattoo. There was a booth that had flash displayed outside. You paid your money and you sat inside the booth and got a tattoo. My friend Brian Schlegel and I were fascinated by all of this and desperately tried to figure a way to get enough money between us to get one...the health issues alone boggle the mind. I used to think the carnies who worked all the fairs and carnivals around all the southern Ontario towns, were always drunk or hungover. In retrospect, I always saw them outside the tattoo tent. They weren't drunk, they were all in the throes of hepatitis. They walked that way because their livers were so distended, they likely couldn't straighten up.
The second clear memory I have was Stompin' Tom Connors (a Canadian music icon... look him up) was a fixture at the fall fair. He played nearly every year that I can remember. I also remember that children were strictly forbidden from his shows as there was drinking allowed in the arena (what!!??!? in public??!?!? Just like that?!?!?) and the language used during the show was a little salty.(You're kidding, right? Have you met my folks?) I have seen Stompin' Tom's show. Live and on film from around that time period. I think I head him say 'hell' once. And it was in reference to where he would likely go when he died.
The beauty of the arena in New Hamburg back then, was the siding on the building was still wooden and old and falling apart. If you played hockey there at all, which we all did, you knew the best spots to squeeze into the arena and see the show...well hear the show anyway. Nobody would risk being caught by their folks at the adults only show...funny that the building that housed such forbidden wonderment in my childhood, is now the home arena for Mrs. Narrator's roller derby team. The irony is not lost on me...
Anybody that knows me, understands that these are the kinds of things I love to share with my children. The dirty kneed, pants torn, blackened eye layer of the world that a lot of people don't or won't see. The world of my youth, the world of 'when I was your age.'
Sadly, there is very little of that world left. The carnies smell more of Pierre Cardin then the do of whiskey and stale cigarettes. There is no more pays your money and takes your chances, there is pays your money and win a prize...nearly always. Zuckerman's prize hog has been replaced by Mrs. Elsie De Mondehaben's prize collection of pens.(for real, there was a hobby display and one of them was a collection of ball point pens)
The games are expensive, as is the parking and the food and everything else about it. But it is the magic that it exudes for the kids. The fevered grip that holds onto their tiny minds and can only be released by twirling aloft in a brightly coloured gondola and the near constant ingestion of sugar coated or deep fried everything.
The Boy was allowed to bring a friend along. The greatest gift you can give a ten year old boy, I have learned, is the gift of trust. It is a small town fair, I figured how much trouble can they get into? I gave him a wrist watch and twenty dollars and told them to meet up with Izzy and I in an hour. They never really got out of sight or earshot. (The Loud twins were in full effect) I am convinced they set a new land speed record for spending twenty bucks. It was literally gone and they were asking for more before Izzy and I got to the end of the first row of booths.
I came away with a warmth in my belly that was more than just funnel cake and onion rings and I'm pretty sure that the kids felt the same. There was a certain feeling I always got when I went to the fair as a kid it was knowing that when I was with my parents or as we got older my brother and sister, that as soon as you passed through those front gates and gave your money to the man, the outside world melted away and we all were in for a good time. There was no parents fighting, nor siblings picking on you, nor friends from school leaving you behind to play with somebody else. The whole community was there with one single purpose...one giant exhale as the summer came to a close and the real world threatened to claw it's way back in...You must be this tall to get on this ride so step right up...



Through one way or another, another summer seems to have screamed by and we didn't seem to do much in the way of vacation. With new jobs and derby games and piping competitions, the summer just kinda up and got used up before we did anything...big. The first day of school loomed just over the horizon for both kids and I just didn't want them to think they hadn't done anything summery enough. Sure there were day trips to the beach but nothing that truly said summer vacation to me.
So being the grandiose fool that I am, I decided to take the kids to the fair where I proceeded to spend a scandalous amount of money. OK maybe not scandalous but certainly more than I intended or indeed, should have spent. it was money that could have been better spent on a zillion other things.
The thing is this was the last long weekend before school, the last kick at the cat for summertime fun and Mrs Narrator was away for the weekend. A recipe for Dad style shenanigans if ever I heard one. Again, I'm a dad, I do stupid shit and get berated for it when the responsible one gets home. It doesn't happen often...thankfully but I fly off the stick every now and again and take the kids with me...much to their delight.
I mean let's face facts, there are a lot of father's who are completely irresponsible and completely selfish about it. Booze, drugs, even food, all for themselves without as much as a thought about the wife and kids. At least I threw the money away on the kids.
It was silly and I felt guilty and like a piece of dirt even as I stepped up to the bank machine but the mere fact that The Boy and his friend both said it was the best day they had ever spent and the laughter that bubbled up out of my daughter as she got pushed further and further into my side while we rode the tilt-a whirl, tells me my heart was in the right place even if my bank card wasn't.
Would I do it again? Very Likely. Do I feel guilty and a little stupid? Definitely. Do I regret it? Not for a god-damned second...who needs a green shamrock necklace anyway?