The fair is in town

Woodstock will have been my home for 25 years later this month.

In all those years there have been very few times when I opted to not attend the Shenandoah County Fair which takes place at the end of August at the fairgrounds near the interstate exchange in Woodstock.
When I worked at the local newspaper, we spent a lot of time covering the fair before it even started. I have interviewed blue ribbon winners, harness racers, carnies and fair food vendors.
I've swallowed dust, slogged through mud and helped serve hamburgers, hot dogs and bean soup.
For the past seven or so years, I have worked at my company's booth greeting people, watching them scoop up our swag (free stuff) like hungry dogs and kibble. At the start of fair week, I feel like the benevolent business person. By the end of the week I start to get a bit jaded.
"Hey. You got two pens and magnetic clip last night, mister. Put that down!" I don't say that, but that's what I was thinking when I said "Sure, take two pens. Did you get some candy?"
This year's fair weather was hot with a double helping of blazing sun.
One night it was so hot in the exhibit hall that when I left, I felt mummified. I had sweated and it evaporated and if I had the energy to turn to dust, that is exactly what I would have done.
I slipped out to the fair this morning - the last day of the fair - and I grabbed a few pictures of the company booth. Then I visited the poultry house (which also houses rabbits) and took a walk through the vegetables, canned goods and crafts.
There are certain things about the fair which are a little seedy - the midway barkers and creepy prizes - but there is one undeniable fact and that is that the fair is a living breathing piece of Shenandoah County history.
Well into its eighth decade, the fair has hosted generations of Valley families and visitors. Vacations are planned around the fair. Reunions crop up every night to the sound of the tractor pull and demolition derby.
The old folks sitting on the benches by the grandstands used to be the young parents shepherding their children from ride to ride.
I feel that magic. Especially at night when I am staring at the Ferris wheel - probably one of the oldest carnival rides in existence. The music accompanying the spinning spokes has changed, but it's really a time capsule. The father with the daughter under his arm once rode the magical wheel with his dad and his dad's father begged his mother to ride with him.
The stories I have heard about the early days of the Shenandoah County Fair - featuring acrobats walking a high wire and a donkey that plunged from a tower into a tank of water - make me wish that I could jump on the Ferris wheel tonight and visit those early days.
I wonder if it was as hot back then?