On Wednesday I was home at a good time, and Jim was going to be late. As much as I love hanging out with him, I positively love attending events like a fair -- alone. If it has a large group of people, I would almost rather be alone. I love to travel alone. Love airports alone. Concerts alone. Fairs alone. Movies alone. When he (or someone else) is with me, it is fun in a different way, and I enjoy sharing the experience - knowing another is seeing what I am seeing, hearing what I am hearing. But I also love to people watch, to take pictures, to stand for long minutes in front of the same cow, to stand by the rides and just listen to the sounds of screaming children, yelling carnies, playing music. I also love to walk. Jim, because he works outside so vigorously, does not care to walk. So on this perfect fall day, I got my camera and walked over to the fair.
On the way I
stopped to watch UMF's fall baseball league warm up.
Case in point. I got down and scooched and talked to this little cow. Jim would have been losing it, asking me, "Okay. Are you ready?" Or I would have felt rushed. But not on this day. I could avoid large families stealthily, moving wherever they were not, only to return to that same spot after they had moved on. Stand and look and coo for as long as I wanted. Yup it was nice.
This is "The Little Red Schoolhouse" of Little Red Schoolhouse Road, West Farmington, Maine - a road I am on often, riding my mountain bike over... They moved the school from the side of Route 2 (down by the mother ship Irving) to the fairgrounds about seven years ago. I stood in here for a long while - imagining how different my profession would have been had I been a teacher in a school like this. I think I might have enjoyed it even more. When I think of the responsibilities of teachers of the late 1800's, I know I would have been damn good. I love the light in here - so many windows - the wood stove in the middle - all the natural wood. It is a nice building, and I am so thankful it has been taken care of over the years (it was built in 1852).
Went to the head of the room to the schoolmaster's desk and lifted it up - this comic was under the flip-up desk.
The one rather large, rather ever-present bummer of the fair is really poor parenting. I actually heard a mother scream at her son, as she was pushing a stroller with a little girl in it with another girl walking beside her, "Malachy! You left your sweatshirt at school. You're shit out of luck." And she screamed it. The kid was maybe seven and wearing a sleeveless shirt. (For reference, I was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt with a THICK sweatshirt - it was chilly.) I recognized this "family" as my neighbor's daughter. I remember little Malachy RUNNING up the side of the street to see me (I always talked to him when I went running by - this is when she was still living with her parents) with no shoes on and she was swearing and screaming at him even then, when he was like two or so. Grrr. Later, in the poultry barn, I stooped down to talk to this little girl so I could point out to her that the little hen had an egg - and when I bent down and our eyes met, I could not believe how sick she looked. Her eyes were runny. There were big red rings under her eyes. Her eyes were hollow. She was super skinny and her hair was all stringy. She was surprised I was talking to her but she softly said, "Yeah..." when I asked her if she could see the egg. But I was so saddened by her appearance. I hope she does not get yelled at like Malachy. And there were numerous other moments where I was sickened by what I saw in the way of raising the next generation. Like some specific places I can count on, the fair is one where I can see (and cannot ignore) the worst or the worst. It is saddening.
But I did stumble on some sweet family moments when I found a place to eat my fries. I stepped into the pulling ring to watch little girls pedal a small lawnmower/tractor with a trailer on back. Each pull was measured by two very sweet-seeming high school boys - legit too - just like the horse pull- with a rope they had to pull out before it was a legitimate pull. I watched the three boys in the photo below run backwards in front of their sister while she pedaled as hard as she could, cheering her on, telling her to, "go go go!" It was something!
I visited a bunch of the Historical Societies - learned of a HUGE rock I am going to check out soon (in Philips) - saw the exhibitions of vegetables, photos, art, quilts and more, bought some KILLER peanut butter fudge and walked home.
Next fair - the mother, the book end - the Fryeburg Fair.
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