...a bit of sympathy and compassion stirs inside me...I know what it is like to be disappointed...
from Me and the Pumpkin Queen
written by Marlane Kennedy
Greenwillow, 2007
Every year since 1846 (except 2020 when it was closed for COVID-19) our county holds its Fair and our little city is host.
Like all county fairs, ours shows all kinds of farm animals. I could stand in the rooster building all day (if I didn’t have anything else to do) and just listen. A crowing rooster has such a unique sound and a unique message. Wake up! Literally and figuratively is a command I need to hear daily.
Equipment large and small, is on display. Tractors whose tires stand taller than me do all kinds of work from tilling a field to harvesting it. And produce. A whole building is filled with apples. Corn, hay, local honey, and pumpkins and gourds are arranged like art.
Flowers, photography, and fine art are yours for the viewing.
But the Fair is interactive, too. You can milk a cow and judge a rooster crowing contest. You can enter anything from brownies and jam to handknit afghans and sweaters and freshly carded wool. From ceramics and pottery to quilts, photographs, and fine art. All are judged for ribbons and recognition.
Dress a gourd in the year’s theme. You could walk away with a ribbon there, too.
You can play games on the midway and come home with a giant stuffie or a goldfish (or not). You can eat your way from one end of its 353 acres to the other. Anything that can be fried and/or stuck on a stick will probably be for sale.
Entertainment included The Lennon Sisters in 1956, and each year since 1968, the Fair has been host to a diversity of acts including Bob Hope, The Monkees, Wierd Al, and the Pentatonics.
Many years ago, I entered pumpkin muffins. It was my first time entering anything and my excitement overran my need to read the entry rules and regs booklet. I frosted my muffins with cream cheese frosting, yum, but for obvious reasons (now I get it) cream cheese frosting does not hold up very well in 80+ degree weather in a hot building for six days. I’m sure they were chucked right away!
Many years later, but still many years ago, I entered my challah recipe. It’s an egg-based yeast bread that’s braided and served each Sabbath in traditional Jewish homes.
I have a competitive streak. And a desire to prove that I can bake, even though some people say I’m not a very good cook. After the pumpkin muffin fiasco, I was determined to do everything correctly and bring home a beautiful blue ribbon.
I got out my kitchen timer. I timed how long it took from proofing the yeast to the final second of the 10-minute kneading session. I got out my kitchen scale and weighed each of the three lumps that would become the braided strands. I timed each of the risings, added in the baking time and cooling time and travel time. It’s a seven minute walk from my house to the Arts & Crafts Building in the fairgrounds.
Everything took a loooonnng time. I got up at 4:00 am.
With one more practice week to go, the braid needed more practice than the bread! and ribbon or not, I would end up with a freezer full of delicious challah. That could count as a win.
My recipe book says it’s a prize-winning challah. On the first day of the Fair, I went by myself to look for that blue ribbon sitting on my golden challah that reminds me of my gram’s silver old-lady-braid and my own chestnut young-girl-braid. I did not find that big, blue ribbon, but was pretty ecstatic to find a shimmery, white honorable mention ribbon adorning my loaf.
And that’s not the end of the Fair story.
Yesterday was Labor Day.
Since we live so close to the Fairgrounds, we use our lawn for private parking. Each year I hire several kids to help. For most of them, it’s their first job.
My first job was babysitting for my neighbor’s three kids, two and a half, four, and five years old. I was eleven.
It wasn’t really babysitting. I played with the kids while their mom was “keeping house.” You know, laundry, dusting, mopping the kitchen floor and such. She was a housewife in a day before we had a name for stay-at-home moms. The moms mostly all stayed home. It was summer so we played outside. I’d give the kids lunch and my job was finished. My neighbor paid me 50 cents an hour for a couple of hours of work.
I learned responsibility, time management, and how to have fun.
The kids looked up to me. I learned to respect myself and trust my decisions.
I just spent a week working closely with twelve smart, creative, and high-energy teenagers. They mostly reported for work on time, stayed focused, and worked well together. I hope they also learned responsibility, time management, and self-respect.
I know they had fun. I did, too!
The world will be in good hands when these kids are in charge.
No book this week. Too much Fair!
Be curious! (and productive)
from Me and the Pumpkin Queen
written by Marlane Kennedy
Greenwillow, 2007
Every year since 1846 (except 2020 when it was closed for COVID-19) our county holds its Fair and our little city is host.
Like all county fairs, ours shows all kinds of farm animals. I could stand in the rooster building all day (if I didn’t have anything else to do) and just listen. A crowing rooster has such a unique sound and a unique message. Wake up! Literally and figuratively is a command I need to hear daily.
Equipment large and small, is on display. Tractors whose tires stand taller than me do all kinds of work from tilling a field to harvesting it. And produce. A whole building is filled with apples. Corn, hay, local honey, and pumpkins and gourds are arranged like art.
Flowers, photography, and fine art are yours for the viewing.
But the Fair is interactive, too. You can milk a cow and judge a rooster crowing contest. You can enter anything from brownies and jam to handknit afghans and sweaters and freshly carded wool. From ceramics and pottery to quilts, photographs, and fine art. All are judged for ribbons and recognition.
Dress a gourd in the year’s theme. You could walk away with a ribbon there, too.
You can play games on the midway and come home with a giant stuffie or a goldfish (or not). You can eat your way from one end of its 353 acres to the other. Anything that can be fried and/or stuck on a stick will probably be for sale.
Entertainment included The Lennon Sisters in 1956, and each year since 1968, the Fair has been host to a diversity of acts including Bob Hope, The Monkees, Wierd Al, and the Pentatonics.
Many years ago, I entered pumpkin muffins. It was my first time entering anything and my excitement overran my need to read the entry rules and regs booklet. I frosted my muffins with cream cheese frosting, yum, but for obvious reasons (now I get it) cream cheese frosting does not hold up very well in 80+ degree weather in a hot building for six days. I’m sure they were chucked right away!
Many years later, but still many years ago, I entered my challah recipe. It’s an egg-based yeast bread that’s braided and served each Sabbath in traditional Jewish homes.
I have a competitive streak. And a desire to prove that I can bake, even though some people say I’m not a very good cook. After the pumpkin muffin fiasco, I was determined to do everything correctly and bring home a beautiful blue ribbon.
I got out my kitchen timer. I timed how long it took from proofing the yeast to the final second of the 10-minute kneading session. I got out my kitchen scale and weighed each of the three lumps that would become the braided strands. I timed each of the risings, added in the baking time and cooling time and travel time. It’s a seven minute walk from my house to the Arts & Crafts Building in the fairgrounds.
Everything took a loooonnng time. I got up at 4:00 am.
With one more practice week to go, the braid needed more practice than the bread! and ribbon or not, I would end up with a freezer full of delicious challah. That could count as a win.
My recipe book says it’s a prize-winning challah. On the first day of the Fair, I went by myself to look for that blue ribbon sitting on my golden challah that reminds me of my gram’s silver old-lady-braid and my own chestnut young-girl-braid. I did not find that big, blue ribbon, but was pretty ecstatic to find a shimmery, white honorable mention ribbon adorning my loaf.
And that’s not the end of the Fair story.
Yesterday was Labor Day.
Since we live so close to the Fairgrounds, we use our lawn for private parking. Each year I hire several kids to help. For most of them, it’s their first job.
My first job was babysitting for my neighbor’s three kids, two and a half, four, and five years old. I was eleven.
It wasn’t really babysitting. I played with the kids while their mom was “keeping house.” You know, laundry, dusting, mopping the kitchen floor and such. She was a housewife in a day before we had a name for stay-at-home moms. The moms mostly all stayed home. It was summer so we played outside. I’d give the kids lunch and my job was finished. My neighbor paid me 50 cents an hour for a couple of hours of work.
I learned responsibility, time management, and how to have fun.
The kids looked up to me. I learned to respect myself and trust my decisions.
I just spent a week working closely with twelve smart, creative, and high-energy teenagers. They mostly reported for work on time, stayed focused, and worked well together. I hope they also learned responsibility, time management, and self-respect.
I know they had fun. I did, too!
The world will be in good hands when these kids are in charge.
No book this week. Too much Fair!
Be curious! (and productive)
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