Country Fair Days!

Every year in July, my hometown held a summer carnival called “Country Fair Days.” It had everything you would expect at a country fair: brats, burgers, corn on the cob, and cotton candy.

Vendors sold home-grown vegetables—long before The Farmers Market became a “thing.” Crafts, household gadgets, and jewelry were all on display. There was a midway with carnival rides for all ages. My grandfather sold vegetables there. From the time I was a little boy till the year he died, I helped him in his booth.

Live bands performed throughout the day. In the evening the headliners played to an audience gathered next to the beer tent. Meanwhile, the midway was shoulder-to-shoulder with teens finding their way around being a teenager and not old enough to buy beer.

True Love

This story is about the midway, true love, and the moon.

I love the Rock-o-Plane. It’s a carnival ride much like a Ferris Wheel, except the occupants are enclosed in a cage-like seating area with the capability of pulling on a locking bar which allowed the riders to invert as the wheel went through its rotations. The adventurous would release the locking bar at just the right time, causing the cage to spin around and around. When you were on the ride with the girl of your pubescent dreams, there was a good chance she would hold on to you for dear life.

Here We Go, Sally Jo!

Sally Jo (not her real name, thank God) was the girl of my dreams in 1969. I was not yet the boy of her dreams, but I was counting on Country Fair Days “magic” to change all that.

It was a year I would spend countless hours in front of the mirror watching for the first whisker to burst forth onto my barren upper lip. I especially watched at the corners of my mouth because boys all know whiskers appear there first. Because girls matured ahead of boys, in addition to watching for whiskers, I also watched in wonder the body changes girls experience.

I Will Not Be Denied!

I was not the only one who loved the Rock-o-Plane. The line for the ride was at least 200 kids long. This did not discourage me, however. I figured an hour in line was a good time to have a conversation with Sally Jo. With great confidence, I bought two tickets.

With little confidence, I approached Sally Jo, who was standing in a circle with 5 or 6 of her girlfriends. The alarm bells in my head screamed at me to “Abort! Abort! Abort!” I ignored the warning, broke into the circle, and said with a cracking voice as I held up the two tickets, “Sally Jo, wanna go on the Rock-o-Plane with me?”

The girls giggled. Some opened their eyes wide while others clasped both hands over their mouths. Sally Jo looked at me and said in an angelic voice, “I’d like that.”

An Hour of Heaven

“We better get in line right away then,” I suggested. We walked to the end of the line and began the snail-trail march to the loading platform.

I don’t recall anything we talked about during the hour-long wait. We probably asked one another how our summer was going and who we had for homeroom teacher next year. I’m sure there was conversation about how abusive our parents were to us by making us do chores around the house and the like. But I really don’t remember—except for the last part, as we were getting in the cage.

“Abort! Abort! Abort!” For Real!

Sally Jo went first. She climbed aboard and slid over to make room for me. I had one leg into the cage when I said out loud with a panic, “What time is it?” The ride operator gave me a quizzical look and said, “11:30. Why?”

“I gotta go,” I shouted to Sally Jo, as I pulled my leg from out of the ride-car. I pointed to the heavens at the waxing crescent moon and said, “They’re landing on the moon tonight! I gotta get home!” I handed the carny both tickets. He slammed closed the door and advanced the ride.

On Being “That Guy”

I sprinted to my bike, hopped on, and raced like the wind the 2 miles to my house.

I haven’t spoken to Sally Jo in 50 years. More precisely, she hasn’t spoken to me. The dreams of our youth were fulfilled in other life-long mates.

Neal Armstrong said it best: “One small step for man; one giant leap for mankind.”