“When’s the fair, Nana?” The lovely Madelyn Simone raised
that question at least a dozen times this summer, and on Sunday, I could
finally answer, “Today!” With the delightful, determined Elizabeth Holiday in
and out of the stroller, our family wandered through the fair, checking out the
home improvement booths, cheering on Madelyn as she pedaled mightily at the
kiddie tractor pull, sampling the grease-laden fair food, and even dodging an
escaped pig.
After patiently visiting the animals, Madelyn was ready for
action: “Can we go on the rides now?” I dutifully paid for the wristband, and
Madelyn led the way to the site where the dragon roller coaster has traditionally
stood, only to discover a bare patch of ground where the entrance was supposed
to be. Her favorite fair experience was MIA. How could it be? Too short to be
admitted to the thrill-seeking rides and even the slide (unless accompanied by her
unwilling grandmother), the kid’s roller coaster had been just right. The
kiddie ride alternatives were lacking in the thrill factor, and our
seven-year-old was not pleased. I sure hope the roller coaster returns next
year.
One of my favorite fair activities isn’t on the schedule,
but its art form occurs throughout the fairgrounds: people-watching. You never
know what – or who – you’re going to see at the fair. I saw some great
t-shirts, with my favorite, “It’s a sheep thing: ewe wouldn’t understand.” I
also recognized many faces, and got a good number of hugs as a result. But I
also spent time looking at the faces of those I didn’t know, wondering what
their stories might be. Some were savoring their yearly funnel cake, while
others looked as though their last meal had been sour grapes. I listened for the
stories etched between the lines on elderly faces, and cringed when harsh words
were spoken to little children. I also wondered as to what might have
transpired in the lives of fairgoers since the last time they strolled the
fairgrounds.
And so? Two thoughts come to mind. First, our faces do speak.
“He had the look of one who had drunk the cup of life and found a dead beetle at
the bottom,” wrote P. G. Wodehouse, while Carson McCullers suggests, “In his
face there came to be a brooding peace that is seen most often in the faces of
the very sorrowful or the very wise.” As my eyes scanned the folks passing by,
I saw a few signs of beetles and bitterness, but also glimpses of peace and
joy.
My stream-of-consciousness musing about faces brings me to
the United Way’s theme for this year, “Faces of Change.” Kicked off during fair
week, our local United Way helps to facilitate positive change among the
residents of Ashland County, reminding us of our ability and responsibility to make
a difference in our own community.
I couldn’t identify them individually, but the law of
averages tells me I saw faces ravaged by the opiate epidemic. I saw hungry
faces. I saw faces weighed down by mental health concerns. I saw faces whose
bodies have no permanent homes. Yet I also know that the partner agencies of United
Way are in business to rebuild these same scarred faces, not with plastic
surgery but with proven methods that open doors and windows for change, infusing
hope rather than Botox.
My second aha! moment at the fair began in the cow barn, as two-year-old
Elizabeth pointed and exclaimed, “cow.” In the horse barn, the same. In the pig
barn, she continued to insist, “cow,” even though we corrected her, “no, that’s
a pig.” She was adamant; those big animals were all cows. Perhaps her little
eyes simply identified them as gigantic, four-legged creatures, more like each
other than different. By next year’s fair, she’ll be able to differentiate
between the cows, pigs and horses, doing so by color, size, and even markings.
But for now, they are alike rather than different. Maya Angelou said it best:
“We can learn to see each other and see ourselves in each other and recognize
that human beings are more alike than we are unalike.” Just like cows, horses,
and pigs!
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