Fair Day

Our first official trip to Anchorage was on August 30th to pick up Rick at the airport. Poor guy put in over time that day. The flight came in at about 11:30 Alaska Time, which was about 5 ½ hours of flight time for him. I had it a little easier. I took the 5 hour drive from the Kenai Peninsula to Anchorage with Sarah, Jesse, and the kids the night before. This was only the beginning. The plan was to go to the Alaska State Fair in Palmer. More specifically, we were going to see Charlie Daniels in concert. Good times-good times. I have come to realize what makes fairs so much fun. Yes, there’s lots of food, cool agricultural exhibits, venders of all kind, and rides. But, all of these seemed pretty mundane over my last few fair experiences. On this day, the magical element of fairs gone by finally became evident; little kids. Watching Auden and Brahm made the fair. Through their eyes, I rediscovered the wonder. Yes, something as simple as seeing a child steer her first car as it rolled along the fixed circular roadway. She took each turn as if she actually knew what see was doing. And the smiles: priceless. Brahm, who is still pretty stationary on his own, was unbelievably entertaining as he was mesmerized. He sat for hours in the backpack carrier taking in every sight and demanding a bite of every food item that came near.

Time came for us to listen to Charlie Daniels set that fiddle of his on fire. Rick and I journeyed in on our own, so we could find a comfortable seat in general seating; also known as the grassy knoll. The natural topography of the concert area couldn’t have been better if it had been planned. The steep hills sloped down to the stage making a prefect band shell. While the grassy knoll might have been some people’s first option for full concert effect, we chose the top row bleachers, stage right; complete with back support. At our age, comfort always wins out.

It was only a few minutes before the show. I spotted the clan on the other side, so I left my perch and climbed up the near vertical hill to confirm a meeting place after the concert. The trip up wasn’t anything special, but the trip down . . . Yes, I gave the crowd a show of my own. I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but before I knew it, my right leg had a mind of its own. The darn thing shot out down the hill, leaving no time for the other to follow suit. I heard a pop as I realized I was now sliding down at a 70 degree angle with ol’ lefty dragging contorted behind. I wanted to believe I took the dismounting fairly gracefully, since it was a slide and not an all out roll. Unfortunately, the snickers of onlooker made me doubt it. At this point, I wasn’t sure what hurt more, my ankle or my pride. Looking back, I must have decided it was my pride, because I shot up despite the fact that I thought there was a pretty good chance I broke my leg. At least that’s how it felt. Painfully, I hobbled to my seat and made it to the top of the bleachers just in time for Charlie to hit the stage. All I can say is, “Thank God for work boots and painkillers.” My enjoyment of the concert may have been a wash, but at least I could walk. For the record, I wasn’t the only victim of the sloping menace. We counted eight other people who succumbed to the humiliation of the hill. I have to admit it was interesting to see how others dealt with public embarrassment. If any one else strained themselves, I couldn’t tell. We left before the crowd and caught up with the clan. I waddled out with the help of Auden, who vowed, “I walk with you Grammy.” And while the droves of cars lined up to leave the fairgrounds, all I could do was to be thankful for another wonderful day. Just like being with kids makes the fair, being with family always makes it all worthwhile. I am sure the memories will linger long after the swelling leaves.