Missing the fair friendships

I surely missed the Logan County Fair this summer. Now, I have the same sad feelings about the Illinois State Fair. Both events fell victim to the Covid-19 pandemic that’s changed our lives. For me, both events were summer highlights.

The county fair, in particular, was special because it involved local folks – from kids who had entered their very first 4-H project to be judged to older folks who made fair attendance a decades-long summer tradition.

For me, the county fair holds a varied significance. I remember visiting the Logan County Fair when I was a teenager living near Armington in adjacent Tazewell County. I usually went with a buddy or two, and the carnival midway, hands down, was the big attraction. Perhaps the reason for that was because the midway seemed to be a magnet for teenage girls. Just a guess.

When I became an adult and joined The Courier news staff, I was the hometown newspaper’s main fair reporter and photographer. That assignment, I learned, usually went to the low person on the totem pole. For several years, that was me. The job was grueling, spending untold hours every day in the 4-H livestock sector of the fair. Back then, we took photos of every 4-H winner. That was long before there was digital anything, including cameras. Everything was captured on roll film. It would be typical to turn in four of five rolls to the darkroom technician at each day’s end.

Fair week was always smothering hot, and almost without fail, included a day or two of rainy and stormy weather. I vividly recall one year in the Seventies when it rained every day of the week-long event. For some reason, the 4-H and Junior Dairy Show was held that year under a large tent just outside the 4-H show barn. I can still see sheets of rain falling off the tent roof and hear the squish of my shoes as they tried to navigate the muddy mess underfoot. That was back in the days when the county still had a decent number of dairy farms and the annual fair dairy show lasted most of the day.

I count that particular dairy show as one of the most miserable times I spent on the fairgrounds. On the other hand, the gentle ribbing of dairy superintendent Wes Zimmer, now long deceased, about my muddy feet and soaked clothing made the misery a bit more tolerable.

I came to know Zimmer well and we always had good visits during the fair. That’s about the only time of year when we came into contact with each other. That happened with a lot of people associated with the fair. We had only once-a-year contact, and without fail, they were always enjoyable moments.

Later in life, when I was no longer the rookie on the news staff, I chose to hold onto my fair duties each summer. My choice. I watched young livestock competitors go from young kids to young adults and then to parents of youngsters leading animals into the show ring. I still occasionally run into them, now in their 40s, some in the 50s, and we laugh when we recall the good old days at the fair.

I eventually had two of my own children and could hardly wait until they were old enough to join 4-H and bring exhibits to the fair. Fair week eventually became a family thing with my son and daughter showing turkeys, rabbits, pigs and one year, a scramble steer my son had captured at the previous year’s fair.

He and my daughter had previously brought home two young barrows they’d caught at the greased pig scramble. The fair had become a magical place for my kids – and their father. As usual, I stood on the sidelines with my camera and took their picture holding a blue ribbon if they won and ignored them when they didn’t.

I credit my stepdad – The Old Man – for introducing me to the state fair. His hometown was Tallula in Menard County, not many miles away from Springfield. As such, he’d attended Illinois State Fairs since his childhood. It became a tradition in our household to head to the state fair on Veterans Day, the first Sunday of fair week. Mom would always pack a picnic lunch and we’d find a spot in the shade on the west side of the fairgrounds for our mid-day meal.

The highlight of those visits was watching the drum and bugle corps competition on the track in front of the grandstand. It was a large and long event with scads of teen-age teams coming from every corner of the state to participate.

Later, when I was a teenager, I’d ride with a buddy or two from Armington to take in the state fair. That’s when I came to the realization what a huge and varied event the state fair was. Now, I realize the fair puts on a display showcasing the diversity of the Prairie State.

My wife Suzi and I have trekked to the state fair in most of the 30-some years we’ve been married. Most of the time, our visits coincide with Veterans Day, still the first Sunday of fair week. We, like all veterans and their families, are treated to a catered lunch and admission is free. Last year, we took a rare evening trip to the fair to watch the draft horse competition in the Coliseum.

Well, none of that this year. No freebies on Veterans Day, no horse shows, no visiting with seldom-seen friends at the county fair. Not even a corn dog or lemonade shakeup.

I suppose I’m putting a bit of self-pity on display here, but I know the sadness I feel is felt by many. I think of my friend Bill Melton, now retired after a long career with the county highway department, who came to the Logan County Fair almost every evening.

“I go just to visit with the people,” including those who he only encountered each summer on the fairgrounds, he told me.

I think his logic has rubbed off on me. Visiting with the good folks of Logan County became a chief reason I went to the fair each year.

I truly miss that.

Dan Tackett is a retired managing editor of The Courier. He can be reached at a safe social distance at dtackett@gmail.com.