The Great Darke County Fair

There is nothing better than a County Fair, as you have heard me say. For a country boy the sights, the smells, the multitude of foods all call like a carney to your heart.

You want to go in, want to sip lemon shakeups and wade into the largest funnel cake in the history of the world. Your nose and eyes battle as you try to decide if the fried chicken smells better than the enormous pork tenderloin that hangs out of all sides of the bun by at least a foot.

The thump of an ancient machine cranking out home made ice cream in 7, count them 7 flavors, including black walnut beats a bass rhythm under the cry of the sideshow barker inviting you to see Zambina, the amazing 3 legged chicken, the dinkie doo, the rubber faced man, the alligator skinned rabbit. All the wonders of the world brought to your little town, your County Seat in trucks and trailers and available for your viewing pleasure for one think dollar bill. The opportunity of a lifetime, folks.

In a quiet places are the Grange exhibits.

Tables overladen with enormous neighbor beater tomatoes, zucchini squash to make any gardener proud,

Pumpkins large enough for
Cinderella's coach without much magic.

Cucumbers proudly covering a table, decorated with ribbons, blue, red and yellow proclaiming the skill of the farmer.


I sit on a pew, straight backed and worn, escaping from the sun...

watching judges look, feel, weigh the fruits of FFA labors in their hands. Years of experience have taught them skills I do not possess.

By some secret standards they declare a tomato, pepper, squash, onion or ear of corn a showstopper... best of show.

Sometimes I wonder if Heaven will have a County Fair.

Then I think, surely it will.

I Love the Fair

Cousins,
First of all, I have to tell you right off that I love county fairs. There is nothing better than going to a fair and walking around just to watch all that happens. I especially love going during the day. There is not the press of folks common in the evenings when all the city folks come to ride the rides and the boys try to win prizes and impress their gals at the midway games.

The daytime is dedicated to showing 4H animals, judging, grooming cows, sheep, goats, rabbits and chickens of every variety. Kids in blue jeans and boots move with serious dedication to their goal of herding an animal into the ring.

Today I took a long lunch to go over to the County Fair and walk through as I ate. I had a fish boat. It was filled with fried catfish, hushpuppies and French fries that I covered with vinegar. I couldn’t eat and play games, so I felt safe walking through the midway. I listened to the carneys calling to boys, “come on now, fella, win one for that pretty gal there.” Or maybe, “Hey there, everyone is a winner. Only two to play and one of the two wins a prize”.

Then I walked through Cow Barn 4. There were younger 4H kids with calves in that barn. As I walked I saw a little Jersey calf lying on a thick pile of fresh straw. She was curled up and sleeping peacefully. A little blonde headed girl of about 7 was curled right up against the calf with her head on the calf’s neck. Her hand carefully rubbed the calf’s ear as she grinned up at me.

I walked through the goat barn, the rabbit and chicken barn and stood at the side of a show ring and watched some boys and one single girl show their pigs. I have to say that I grinned constantly as I heard the pigs squeal and saw little boys trying to make their cantankerous pigs move in the right direction.

The Grange displays were full of beautiful tomatoes; gallon jars of soybeans or corn, squash, huge heads of cabbage and baskets overflowing with beans. There were jams and jellies that delighted the eye, cakes that just cried out for eating.

I believe I could live at the fair. I could eat rib eye sandwiches or butterfly pork from the Clay County Pork Producers. At lunch I would snag an ear of fresh corn on the cob covered with butter, salt and pepper. Dessert would be home made strawberry ice cream one day and maybe the thin crisp county fair waffles all covered with powdered sugar. For supper I would go into the Methodist Church Ladies Missionary Group tent and have their sit down chicken dinner.

I’d have to have a job, so I would bring back the sideshows and I would be the barker. I would be resplendent in a striped jacket with a straw hat and bamboo cane. There I would stand on a big wooden box all painted up in primary colors as I called out;

“Ste-ep right this way folks, come one come all and see the greatest show ever to grace this county fair. Perhaps the most amazing accumulation of oddities, talent and unexplainable phenomenon the world has ever seen. Come see Johnny the dog eared boy, the chicken with 3 legs, the dinky doo. Come right this way, sir and bring the little lady to see the world’s largest, yes I said the world’s largest bull, the horse faced man, see Zambina, the missing link as she changes from beautiful modern woman to gorilla. Yes, folks, I said Zambina the gorilla woman, fresh from her tour of New Orleans French Quarter.

Here it is folks. This is the real thing. Never before and never again will you see anything like this. Step right up now and see the bearded lady, the world’s largest rat. We have it here folks, all right here in your little town for this week only. Don’t go home and wonder. Don’t walk by only to dream years from now about what you missed by passing this wonderful show by.”

Published July 26, 2004

Junebug's Last Fair

Junebug Burns was finally on his way with his last entry as a 4Her for the Clay County Fair.  He had an Angus bull named Sneezer that most 'round Beloved, Kentucky thought was the finest bull ever raised in the hills of Kentucky.  Junebug named it Sneezer when it was a calf because it would sniff at things an' then just sneeze up a fit, sort of like it was allergic to the whole world.  No one ever believed that calf would grow to win a prize as a year old bull much less be the amazin' animal that it was.

Sneezer was loaded into the cattle trailer an' was pushin' against the side with powerful shoulders.  Junebug could hear the metal of the trailer groanin'.  He grinned and knocked on the side of the trailer, whisperin' for Sneezer to stop that an' be on good behavior.  That bull was like a big ol' puppy dog with Junebug.  Folks said Junebug could probably teach it to dance if he took a mind to.  With just that one whisper ol' Sneezer relaxed an' stood still.  It was like he was a waitin' to get to the fair an show off in front of all them folks.

In the back of the pickup was a cot, a duffel full of clothes, two hat boxes with Stetson straw hats, a trunk of gear an' several buckets an' bags full of this an' that.  Most 4Hers lived at the fair for the week.  Junebug was sure goin' to be there an' enjoy his last fair.  He had shavin' cream to use when someone fell asleep as well as a new whoopee cushion ordered from the back of a Superman comic book.  It was goin' to be a great week.

The wallet in his pocket was full of cash this year.  Junebug had saved for a year so he would have the money to do whatever he wanted to do this year.  He was goin' to go out with a bang.  Him an' Sneezer would have the best year ever.

Comes the Fair

A County Fair isn't something that springs up overnight in the hills of Eastern Kentucky.  It is more like a covey of quails, sneakin' through the back roads an' wanderin' in when folks are asleep or lookin' the other way.  Maybe it is the gypsy nature of Carney folks that causes this quiet entrance.  Not like a circus with all the fanfare, parades an' carryin' on.  Piece by piece, truck by truck they come from all directions to settle into the fairgrounds close the Beloved, Kentucky.

At night you can hear the heavy grumble of diesel trucks as they pull the Tilt-A Whirl or maybe a Merry-Go-Round into the gates, free an' open to the public for anyone to watch.  Shame is no one stops to see the wonder of a fair bein' born.  Listen close an' hear the old pickup pullin' Collin's Famous Racing Pigs.  As it turns a corner the pigs are jostled from their rest and squeal their indignation.  They are stars and athletes after all.  They need their sleep.

At night folks can hear the rustling clank of chains as machinery is tightened an' moved to place.  Stop if y'all will an' see a Ferris Wheel borned right before your eyes in a matter of hours.  First it is just a flatbed platform, waiting for birth an' then with the help of strong men it rises from that bed to the blue Appalachian sky, just waitin' to take youngin's up an' show them the glory of the surroundin' hills.  If they take time to look, that is.  Most likely they will only have eyes for their darlin's an' never see the hills filled with holly, rhododendron, sassafras, hickory an' red oak trees just up yonder.

The Carney folks get in early, set up their village of tents an' travel trailers.  They become a village within our village of Beloved.  Soon enough the Fair Board an'; all the volunteers will descend on the fairgrounds an' begin the magic.  Folks from round here will begin to come with baked goods, baskets of the best of the harvest an' a whole rainbow of displays.

Soon enough the 4H youngin's an' their families will pull in with cattle, goats, sheep, pigs, poultry an' rabbits.  The barns will fill with the laughter of families separated by just a generation or two come together to watch their brood compete just as their Mamas an Daddies, Aunts an' Uncles did years back.  Some folks will stay in the same barms with their livestock that their Great Grandpas built, that their Grandparents showed sheep or cattle in.  They bring cots an' clothes in trunks to settle in for the glorious week of County Fair.

You come too, they'll make room for you.

I Love the Fair

Cousins,
First of all, I have to tell you right off that I love county fairs.  There is nothing better than going to a fair and walking around just to watch all that happens.  I especially love going during the day.   There is not the press of folks common in the evenings when all the city folks come to ride the rides and the boys try to win prizes and impress their gals at the midway games.

The daytime is dedicated to showing 4H animals, judging, grooming cows, sheep, goats, rabbits and chickens of every variety.  Kids in blue jeans and boots move with serious dedication to their goal of herding an animal into the ring.

Today I took a long lunch to go over to the Clark County Fair and walk through as I ate.  I had a fish boat.  It was filled with fried catfish, hushpuppies and French fries that I covered with vinegar.  I couldn’t eat and play games, so I felt safe walking through the midway.  I listened to the carneys calling to boys, “come on now, fella, win one for that pretty gal there.”  Or maybe, “Hey there, everyone is a winner.  Only two to play and one of the two wins a prize”.

Then I walked through Cow Barn 4.  There were younger 4H kids with calves in that barn.  As I walked I saw a little Jersey calf lying on a thick pile of fresh straw.  She was curled up and sleeping peacefully.  A little blonde headed girl of about 7 was curled right up against the calf with her head on the calf’s neck.  Her hand carefully rubbed the calf’s ear as she grinned up at me.

I walked through the goat barn, the rabbit and chicken barn and stood at the side of a show ring and watched some boys and one single girl show their pigs.  I have to say that I grinned constantly as I heard the pigs squeal and saw little boys trying to make their cantankerous pigs move in the right direction.

The Grange displays were full of beautiful tomatoes; gallon jars of soybeans or corn, squash, huge heads of cabbage and baskets overflowing with beans.  There were jams and jellies that delighted the eye,  cakes that just cried out for eating.

I believe I could live at the fair.  I could eat rib eye sandwiches or butterfly pork from the Clark County Pork Producers.  At lunch I would snag an ear of fresh corn on the cob covered with butter, salt and pepper.  Dessert would be home made strawberry ice cream one day and maybe the thin crisp county fair waffles all covered with powdered sugar.  For supper I would go into the Methodist Church Ladies Missionary Group tent and have their sit down chicken dinner.

I’d have to have a job, so I would bring back the sideshows and I would be the barker.  I would be resplendent in a striped jacket with a straw hat and bamboo cane.  There I would stand on a big wooden box all painted up in primary colors as I called out;

 “Ste-ep right this way folks, come one come all and see the greatest show ever to grace this county fair.  Perhaps the most amazing accumulation of oddities, talent and unexplainable phenomenon the world has ever seen.  Come see Johnny the dog eared boy, the chicken with 3 legs, the dinky doo.  Come right this way, sir and bring the little lady to see the world’s largest, yes I said the world’s largest bull, the horse faced man, see Zambina, the missing link as she changes from beautiful modern woman to gorilla.  Yes, folks, I said Zambina the gorilla woman, fresh from her tour of New Orleans French Quarter.

Here it is folks. This is the real thing.  Never before and never again will you see anything like this.  Step right up now and see the bearded lady, the world’s largest rat.  We have it here folks, all right here in your little town for this week only.  Don’t go home and wonder.  Don’t walk by only to dream years from now about what you missed by passing this wonderful show by.”

the sweetest tomatoes

The Clay County Fair was a goin' full tilt. The rides were full with long lines for all the good rides. The feller at the pony rides didn't have much to do till some proud mountain mama came along an' their youngin' started squallin' about ridin' a pony. He would perk up then an' grin. He could shame a quarter from even the poorest soul for a pony ride.

The bench outside the rabbit barn was a gatherin' place of sorts for many of the older fellers at the fair. It was close to all the food vendors, but far enough away from the midway and all the loud games an' rides that a person could get a little good conversation in.

Uncle Billy sat by himself on the bench. Several fellers had come an' gone over the space of an hour. All had news to offer about which youngin' won in this or that 4H barn. The turkey judgin' was goin' on an' Uncle Billy expected a report soon from that contest.

He had spent most of the mornin' makin' brooms an' talkin' with folks. His hands had another idea right now, though. Ever' now an' again he suffered with a little arthritis. Today it was worse than it had been all week. He reckoned it was keepin' his hands wet an workin' with the broomcorn for such long periods. He sat with one hand in the other. For good measure he would rub the knuckles softly, hoping to rub the ache out.

As he sat there, he heard someone callin' his name. "Hey, Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy, over here. Here."

There was folks goin' all different directions an' Uncle Billy couldn't see where the voice was comin' from till Junebug Burns plopped himself down on the bench beside Uncle Billy. Junebug had some sheep that were going to be judged later that day an' he was right smart nervous about it. Folks were sayin' that his sheep were the best to come through the fairgrounds in a long time. Junebug hoped that was true. He could use the money from a good auction to put away for college. He wanted to go to college over to Cumberland Baptist College to study an' be a teacher. He promised anyone who listened to him that he would come back an' teach in his hometown of Beloved when he was done.

"Uncle Billy, you look right tired."

"I reckon sleepin' on a cot in a barn ain't as peaceful as I might like, Junebug. How 'bout you?"

Well sir, I just don't mind it a bit. They is so much to do here I don't sleep much anyways."

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I don't know that I would repeat that to your Mama, Junebug."

"No sir, that might be a foolish thing to do."

"How are the sheep this year, Junebug? Think you'll win it?"

Junebug sat an' studied a little while before he answered, "Well, I don't rightly know. Lots of folks have stopped by an' looked 'em over. I think I got as good a chance as anyone."

Junebug watched Uncle Billy rubbin' his hands for a second or two, "Them hands hurtin' you?"

"Yessir, some days is better than others. They hurt more in the mornin's than any other time."

"Mine don't do that none."

Uncle Billy grinned, "No sir, I reckon they won't for another 60 years or so."

"You hungry, Uncle Billy?"

"Mountain men are always hungry. You?"

"Always."

Uncle Billy chuckled. He figured Junebug had spent his money on games an' was lookin' for a good meal. "Reckon you want to go over an' get somethin' to eat with me?"

"Nope, I got somethin' for you an' me to eat right here."

Junebug reached into a bag he was carryin' an' pulled out two of the prettiest red, ripe tomaters Uncle Billy had ever seen. Junebug had a salt shaker in his hand as he handed the bigger one to Uncle Billy.

"Those are nice tomaters, Junebug. I appreciate that. Nothin' better than a tomater with a little salt."

Junebug already had a mouthful as he agreed. The two sat an' ate slowly, each enjoyin' the sweet taste of the tomaters. Ever' now an' again a little juice ran down their lips. Both were quick to catch it and place it back in their mouths. The tomaters were just that good. A feller didn't want to waste a drop.

Uncle Billy chuckled, "I reckon we are both eatin like we are starved. Only thing could make these better would be sittin' in the garden eatin' 'em right off the vine."

Junebug grinned, "Onliest thing could make 'em better is you an' me sneakin' into that garden after dark an' sittin' between the rows eatin' 'em in the moonlight."

"Now, Junebug, what garden did you sneak into? Are these from someone's garden? When did you sneak out?"

"Uncle Billy, I ain't sneaked off the fairgrounds. I promised Pap I wouldn't an' I keep my promises. Just don't ask no questions."

Uncle Billy looked at Junebug for a long time. He had slowed his eatin' down at the prospect of eatin' ill gotten gains. He studied the small piece of tomater he had left for a long while. "Junebug, they don't sell tomaters here at the fair, do they?"

"No sir, they don't. Eat up, Uncle Billy. You are askin' too many questions."

Uncle Billy sat up. He knew something was wrong!

"Junebug Burns! Where did you get these tomaters?"

"Uncle Billy, here is the way it is. Ms.Hazel bugs me to death at church all the time. She tells me to stand up straight, wipes my face with spit an' a hankie if she thinks she sees a little dirt. She tells my Mama on me all the time an' I get in trouble from her carryin' on. Her tomaters was already judged an' won a blue ribbon. They was a whole basket full an' I felt like she owed me a couple."

"Ms.Hazel? Oh, Junebug, if you get caught there will be no end of this! Of all the folks to swipe tomaters from...Ms.Hazel. That woman is a thorn in my side too, Junebug. She will have out hides if she catches us. I'll have to go over to her house for a Sunday dinner to apologize. That woman wants to get her hooks in me anyway, son."

"Well, I reckon we better eat up real fast, Uncle Billy. Don't want anyone seein' us eatin' her tomaters, do we?"

With that thought, both man an' boy put the last bite of sweet, red tomater in their mouth and swallowed hard an' fast. Both grinned a little as they sat on the bench in front of the rabbit barn. Neither said anything for a long time.

"Uncle Billy?"

"Yep?"

"Stolen tomaters is the best."

"Junebug!"

"They are, Uncle Billy. Sneakin' in an' swipin' a tomater makes it sweeter. You said they was good."

"I reckon, boy, I reckon. Just don't tell anyone we ate Ms.Hazel's prize winnin' tomaters. Just my luck I'd have to end up marryin' the woman to end her shame."

Junebug looked at Uncle Billy with a grin that sliced from ear to ear. They shared a secret that bonded them that day. In the years to come Junebug would grow closer to the old man. Eventually he would learn to make brooms from Uncle Billy. Years later he would sit in a barn makin' brooms an' tellin' stories Uncle billy told him on days just like this one. Them tomaters changed the directions of Junebug's life.

Junebug was right. There is nothin' sweeter than a swiped tomater...

Unless it was pullin' somethin' over on Ms. Hazel. Man an' boy both enjoyed that sweet, red secret.

County Fair Midweek

Uncle Billy sat on his shavehorse and inspected the sassafras stick clamped in the jaws of the bench. It was dried well and was straight. The bark was still on it an' would mostly stay that way. Folks at the fair didn't much want a good kitchen broom or house broom. They wanted somethin' pretty to hang on a wall or some such thing. He thought it was nonsense, but the fancy ones sold, so he weren't gonna raise much fuss.

He set his drawknife aside. It was too big for shavin the sassafras stick. He only wanted to take the rough off the bark an' maybe have a few places the wood would peek through. Folks liked that real good. He picked up a spokeshave and set it to the rough bark of the stick.

Folks standin' an' watchin' smelled the sassafras as soon as he took the first stroke. Several of the youngin's took deep sniffs real loud. Uncle Billy chuckled an' looked up.

"Y'all like that smell don't ye?"

Course, the youngin's nodded their heads to beat the band. Nothin' smelled better than fresh sassafras. Uncle Billy set the stick he was workin' on aside an' picked up one that was rougher an' not fit for makin' a broom handle. He kept a couple o' sticks like that layin' round for just such an occasion.

"Let me give you'uns somethin' to carry round an' snort on for a while." he said as he picked up his drawknife an' slid it quickly down the stick. The fragrance filled the area around him with the sweet smell of sassafras. He quickly made a small pile of shavin's and handed a couple to each youngin'. In the back o' the group was a little ol' girl with blond hair an' brown eyes. She was a grinnin but hid behind her mama as Uncle Billy approached.

"Come here, darlin'. I got a special one for you."

She timidly walked closer an' Uncle Billy took a long curl o' sassafras an' dangled it from her ear like an earring.

"What 'bout the other ear?" she asked.

Uncle Billy laughed right hard when she spoke up. "Here ye are, darlin'. One for the other ear. Gal's gotta look good for the fair."

She felt each one as if to be sure they were in just the right place and grinned. Uncle Billy handed out the rest o' the shavin's. More than one grownup reached out a hand for their own shavin'.

As folks left Uncle Billy went back to work on the broom handle.

Later in the evenin' he stopped to get a bite to eat. As he was headin' over to the Clay County Pork Producers booth to get a big ol' grilled and butter-flied pork chop he saw that little ol' gal walkin' with her mama.

When she saw Uncle Billy she grinned an' pulled back her hair from her ears. Right there, danglin' from each ear was a long curl of the finest red sassafras the mountains o' Kentucky ever did grow.

Uncle Billy chuckled an' hollered out, "Are you a flirtin' with me? I'm too old for you now!"

Don't ye know, that little ol' girl grinned, blushed an' ran to catch up with her mama as fast as she could.

Zambina

Junebug spent all day workin' in the sheep barn the first day o' the fair. The 4H sponsors wanted to make sure the barn looked good as folks went through. There were always chores to do. Junebug swept the lanes between the sheep pens over and over to make sure no one stepped in anythin'. He helped haul about a thousand wheelbarrows of sawdust to scatter on them lanes too.

The fellers what was doin' the sheep shearin' wasn't comin' till the next day, so Junebug had plenty of time in the evenin' to walk around with his cousins an' friends an' look the fair over. He had one of them cotton candys right off. He went over to the Methodist Church booth an' got some chicken an' noodles like he promised his Mama. He knew some o' them ol' ladies would tell on him if he didn't try to eat right.

Him an' Eddie Carpenter walked down through the rides an' into the sideshow area. They were right strange things there, sure enough. Last year he paid a quarter to see the biggest rat in the whole wide world. That feller talkin' 'bout it kept on hollerin' about it all week till Junebug had to take a look. After he paid his quarter he climbed up some stairs an' looked down into a pen with a big ol' rat lookin' thing. He sure didn't want to see that in his Daddy's corn crib. (His science teacher later told him it weren't a rat but a capybara. Junebug looked it up in an encyclopedia an' sure enough it was!)

Well, Eddie an' Junebug stopped in front of a tent that had a sign said, "Zambina the Gorilla Woman". The feller out front told them that Zambina was the missin' link. Them boys had to see that missin' link woman. They paid their quarter an' went inside a dark tent with a bunch o' other folks.

When the lights came on the man from out front was standin' on the stage with a nice lookin' red headed woman in some kind o' zebra skin with grass stuck in her hair an' all. Junebug looked real close. He thought the feller looked an awful lot like the man with the giant rat last year.

That feller tol' the folks that Zambina was the missin' link again an' said when she was put in a hypnotic trance she "regressed through the various and sundry stages of evolution to her ancient ancestor, the giant ape...known today in modern science as the gorilla.". Eddie giggled an' said she was really one of them orang-o-tangies cause she was redheaded an' all. Junebug tol' him to hush cause the feller said it had to be absolute silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I am about to perform a feat of hypnotism and cause Zambina to regress back through millions of years of evolution. Please be silent, because I cannot be responsible for what might happen if her primitive urges get the best of her psyche. Quiet now as I begin..."

The feller paused an' the woman stepped into a big ol' cage with iron bars. He locked her in an' put the key in his pocket. Junebug's eyes got real big as he saw her standin' in that ol' cage. He poked Eddie and pointed. Eddie was as white as a sheet. This show had to be the real thing.

"Zambina," the feller whispered right loud, "Think gorilla. Think Gorilla, Zambina. Gorilla, Zambina"

He whispered an' muttered this over an' over. Then it some kind o' scary music started up an smoke was a risin' all round. Funny lights started a flickerin' an' Zambina started changin'. She humped over right funny an' her arms an' face gor real hairy. She got bigger an' bigger till she looked like one o' them gorillas, for sure. Finally she was a full time, real for sure gorilla!

Then some woman screamed an' all heck broke loose. Zambina broke out of her trance when that woman done screamed. That gorilla lady broke open that ol' cage an' jumped out. She looked around an' saw that talkin' feller that tranced her. She grabbed him an started beatin' on him an' carryin' on somethin' terrible. Man, oh man.

'Bout that time Eddie Carpenter got scared an' ran out the flap as a big ol' man with a shotgun came it. He fired it in the air an Zambina froze as she was pickin' up the hypnotizin' feller. The big man pointed the shotgun at Zambina and she dropped the feller to the ground.

Junebug looked up at the top o' the tent an' noticed it didn't have a hole in it from the shotgun blast! He turned to watch what was a goin' on.

The shotgun man walked calm like toward Zambina, callin' her name an pointin' the gun at her. He got a whip off a chair in the front an' cracked it a couple o' times an' Zambina hunkered down like an' ol' cur dog. Folks started cheerin'. Junebug reckoned they knew that feller had saved their sorry lives.

Both them fellers got Zambina in the cage an' locked it back. The hypnotizin' feller tol' the folks the show was over since Zambina was stuck as a gorilla till they got her calmed down. As Junebug left he saw the movie projector high in the tent an' figured it must a been part o' the way Zambina changed. 'Course, he weren't gonna tell Eddie that. Sorry friend he was, runnin' off like that.

When Junebug got back to the sheep barn, Eddie was already tellin' ever'one there about Zambina. That show as gonna make some cash over the weekend. Junebug threw in his two cents here an' there, but didn't say much. It was Eddie's story after all.

Junebug saw Zambina's transformation three times that week. He later recognized Zambina walkin' around in regular clothes. He said howdy to her an' winked.

Zambina grinned, winked an' held her finger to her lips. Junebug made a zippin' motion over his lips an giggled as he walked toward the rides back on the back lot.

The Other Side of the Fair

Saturday morning started fast for Junebug Burns. He was up early to get his sheep ready for the Clay County Fair. He had been in 4H for a couple of years now. At 13 he thought he might be goin' to his last fair as a 4Her this year.

Junebug's Mama had called to him at about 6:00 a.m. an' told him he better get a move on or his Daddy wouldn't be a takin' him to the fair till later in the day. The mornin' was cool in the holler where they lived. The creek that ran down the holler kept the nights cool an' the days humid in summer.

He was up an' dressed right quick. A white tee shirt, ol' denims an' some P.F. Flyers was all a feller needed at the fair till judgin' day. His Mama had made sure he had enough shirts, drawers an' clean socks. she said no boy o' hers was gonna stink, even though they was a stayin' in the sheep barn all week.

Lordy, he better hurry. If his Daddy got on the tractor he would have wait an' go that evenin'. On top o' that he'd have chores to do all day instead o' bein' at the fair.

He ran out to the barn while his Mama was cookin' breakfast. As he went out the front door onto the porch he could hardly see the tobaccer field down the way for the fog. That fog was heavy on the barn as he reached it, swirlin' around it an' makin' it look like it was stuck off by itself. He could'nt see em, but he heard the chickens a carryin' on an' his sister's banty rooster crowin' like it was cock o' the walk.

As the big ol' door swung open, his sheep started callin' to him somethin' fierce. All the bleatin' made him smile a big smile. These were the best two sheep in all the 4H group. Well, that's what he thought. His Daddy weren't one to throw around words an he said they was good stock. That there was as good as a ribbon to Junebug.

He got his cane an' opened the pen. Them sheep was out an' into the barnyard quicker than greens through a duck. He walked behind an' beside them as he herded them toward the truck. His Daddy already had a ramp up to the back o' the truck. It took just a shake to get 'em in an' close the back end o' the pickup. They was big wooden slat sides on the truck that folks would build to haul livestock in pickup trucks. Junebug had put plenty o' straw on the bed o' the truck. He handed in some hay for the sheep to eat as they traveled.

One thing can be said o' Junebug's Mama. She weren't lettin' her menfolks go to the fair hungry. Her table was an old harvest table made o' poplar by her Grandad. The two long sides folded down when not in use an' could be pushed agin the wall to make room in the kitchen.

Today it were covered with a red an' white checked oilcloth tablecloth. Five plates sat on the table an' cloth napkins were by each plate. The plates was what folks call carnival glass an' had been won at the County Fair over several years by Junebug's Daddy when they first took up housekeepin'. The days before the Clay County Fair were always right special 'cause the carnival glass dishes would come out. They was a warm gold color, almost opaque.

The forks an' knives an' spoons was in each drinkin' glass like always. Mama always set the table like that. When folks was done they put their forks an' all right back in them glasses an' set 'em over on the sideboard for washin'.

In the middle o' that red an' white oilcloth was more food than a feller could shake a stick at. They was a big platter o' fried eggs, a bowl o' grits an' some fresh churned butter to dab on top. Down by Junebug's Mama's chair was Bob White Syrup an' some buckwheat flapjacks. A big ol' bowl held thick home cured hickory smoked bacon, sausages an' a little ham meat. They was two kinds o' gravy on the table; milk gravy an' red-eye gravy made from the grease off that ham.

Junebug's Daddy grabbed his Mama's hand, an' Junebug an' his two sisters joined the family circle as his Daddy prayed for the food:

"Dear Lord, I am right grateful for all the food sittin' before us, Lord. Y'all have done right by us from day one an' for that I thank thee. I give thanks for this farm an' for the crops. That rain the other day was appreciated, Lord Jesus, but I ain't gonna squawk none if y'all care to give us another one. I'd ask y'all to watch over they youngin's an' keep 'em healthy. Bless my Mam, dear Lord, cause she has taken the palsy something terrible. She is a shakin' so bad that she cain't hardly hold a glass o' milk. Now, Lord, y'all know I don't like to ask no favors or want special treatment for us, but if y'all see fit, jus' bless ol' Junebug with a champion this year. He has worked hard on them sheep an' done a right good job. Amen."

Junebug had opened his eyes when his Daddy started talkin' to the Lord about him. His eyes was as big as hen eggs when his Daddy bragged on him to the Lord Jesus. Junebug couldn't believe it. Them must be good sheep if his Daddy was a askin' the Lord to bless him.

He didn't stop grinnin' as he filled...an' emptied his plate. That grin stayed on his face as they rode to town an' even when they unloaded the sheep into their pen.

He had a sleepin' bag an' a suitcase with him that he put in the pen next to his sheep. A dozen other boys had done the same around him. At the other end o' the barn the girls was layin' out their beds an so on in pens next to their sheep. A couple of parents was there too, all set up in stalls in between for the rest o' the week. They were the 4H sponsors this year an' would ride herd on the youngin's in each barn.

Junebug hugged his Daddy an started to turn back to the barn.

"Ain't you a forgettin' somethin'?" his Daddy asked.

"I don't reckon."

"You ain't asked me for any spendin' money."

"Well sir, I saved a right smart bit this year. I thought I would do 'er on my own."

"Good man, Junebug. That makes me proud o' ye." His Daddy sounded real funny when he said that. Sort o' like he was chokin' or somethin'.

He hugged Junebug agin an' walked to the truck. "I'll be here Wednesday for the judgin', son."

"OK, Daddy. I'll be a seein' y'all then."

As his Daddy drove away, Junebug stuck his hands in his pockets. He felt somethin' in the left pocket where he kept his Case knife. When he pulled it out he saw the $10 his Daddy had slipped in as he was a huggin' him.

That grin crept to his face again. It didn't leave most o' the day.

County Fair part two

The Clay County Fair was goin' full tilt. Sunday was always a good day at the fair. Folks still came to the fair after church dressed in their "Sunday go to meetin'" clothes. Little ol' girls had on their dresses, white socks an' either black patent shoes or saddle oxfords. Boys had their cowlicks pressed down with a little luck an' a lot o' spit. Their shirts were pressed white and their shoes shined. Mamas and Dads herded youngin's almost as good as the 4Hers in the barns did their animals.

Uncle Billy sat outside the exhibition hall takin' it all in. He had made brooms an' a few milk stools all weekend till Sunday. He never worked on Sunday. Never did, never would. He didn't sell any of his brooms on Sunday either, though he didn't fault others if they wanted to work or buy an' sell. It was just his personal beliefs was all.

They had a church service on the fairgrounds for all the folks what were missin' church by bein' there an' tendin' their animals or booths. Uncle Billy always led the singin' with his deep bass voice.

A couple years back a collection was taken up to buy some o' them Broadman Hymnals. Each an' ever' one was stamped "Fairgrounds Church Meeting" on the front in gold letters. Inside each one was the name of the folks what donated it.

The preachers around the community took turns doin' the service an' this year it was Brother Harley Davidson's turn. The preacher would always appoint someone to fill his pulpit while he preached at the fairgrounds. Brother Harley was from the Church of God. He asked Jesse Gilbert to fill in for him. Jesse was home from college an' was goin' to make a preacher when he got out.

Uncle Billy watched the parade of folks as they walked 'round the grounds, hands full of this an that, stuffed animals, painted canes, waffles an' cotton candy. More than once a feller would stop an' pass the time o' day with Uncle Billy. They talked about all the important things o' the day...the weather, cattle prices, which youngin' was gonna take the grand champion steer this year. Now that was a hot topic.

When it got dark folks would start comin' round an' settlin' in around Uncle Billy an' Homer Wilson. Both them fellers was storytellers an' ever'one wanted to get as close as they could to hear all them fellers had to tell.

They did a round robin, tellin' a story then sittin' down whilst lookin' at the other, almost darin' 'em to beat that one. Folks was as quiet as the dead, jus' wantin' to hear what they said. It usually went on for two or three hours, goin' from short funny jokes an' such to longer stories an' maybe a scary one or two.

Homer Wilson said, "Now, that is the way I heerd it, an' I reckon fur as I knowed it was true enough." He sat down an' looked to Uncle Billy who stood an' looked over the crowd...

"Now, let me see here. That reminds me o' the time...."

County Fair

"County Fair days in Clay County", folks jus' plain ol' light up when they hear them words. Womenfolks have been puttin' away canned goods all summer just tryin' to get one of them blue ribbons. They fuss over the way every cucumber spear looks as they pack jars for picklin'. They carefully pour hot jelly into jars so no foam appears. They look like they got somethin' wrong with 'em as they shake an' jiggle jelly before it gels...tryin' to get bubbles out.

Uncle Billy walks Old Dog out to the truck and loads him into the front seat. Old Dog knows they are a goin' to the fair. His tail ain't stopped thumpin' for near two days.

The back of the truck is loaded with a cot, an ol' ladderback chair, a couple quilts and Uncle Billy's shave horse. They is a suitcase in the front with his clothes for the week. He has been goin' to the fair as long as he can remember. He has stayed the week at the fair for more years than he cares to count.

He stops an' studies the back o' the truck for just a while an' realizes he don't have no wood to work with at the fair. He always takes his shavehorse an' makes brooms an' milk stools each day in the exposition barn. Back in the back Uncle Billy an several other ol' fellers will set up their cots in stalls what once were used for calves before the cow barn was expanded. 'Lectric fans sit in the winders an' keep a breeze a goin' day an' night for to cool them ol' fellers. They sit around in the evenin' an' talk up a storm. If they was a prize fer jawin', one of them fellers would git it, that is for sure.

Uncle Billy's stride is long as he makes his way to his work room in the barn. He carefully selects about 50 sassafras sticks for brooms an' half agin as many for legs for his milk stools he will make. He already threw some lil' ol' maple logs from the woodpile into the back of the truck for the seats o' the stools. Folks buy them as fast as he can make them. Some folks know he donates all the money to the Oneida Institute for youngin's what cain't afford to pay their way.

As he is walkin' out he grabs his oilcan an' an Arkansas whetstone. Them drawknives is gonna get dull usin' 'em as often as he will this week.

He grins as he throws the sticks in the back an' reaches for the ol' truck door. There is nothin' better than a county fair. He can jus' smell the food now. French fries with a load of vinegar on 'em, them big ol' crispy waffles an' some cotton candy for sure. He eats one of them ol' sausage sammiches 'bout ever' day. 'Course, for supper he goes over to the dinner tent an' has whatever the Eastern Star ladies has fixed for the daily special. Usual Monday is fried chicken, Tuesday is chicken an' dumplin's. Wednesday is that I-talian night an' he don't eat none o' that ol' spaghetti. He jus' don' favor it none at all.

As he drives he cain't help but grin. They is nothin' better than County Fair. The horse show starts that evenin' an' goes through Sunday. It always has been Friday to Sunday an' is the highlight o' the weekend. The 4H judgin' starts Monday early with the rabbits an' poultry.

Next weekend will be a busy time for Uncle Billy. He has auctioned the 4H animals for years. They is new auctioneers 'round the county, but no one has done the 4H auction for near 50 years. He loves workin' the crowd, tryin' to git as much for them animals as he can. It ain't above Uncle Billy to shame folks into raisin' a bid. A load o' youngin's from 'round Beloved went to college with 4H money thanks to the shamin' of Uncle Billy. He reckoned he was gonna have to turn it over to someone one of these days, but as long as he is able, he was gonna do 'er.

The man at the back gate saw Uncle Billy through the windshield an' waved him through. He pulled up an' rolled his window down, "How's it lookin', Joe?"

"Lookin' right good, Uncle Billy. I reckon that Sizemore boy might win with that big ol steer he brung in. You seen it?"

"Yessir, I did. It is as fine a steer as I have seen. How 're the sheep an' goats comin' in? I heard them boys over on Martin's Creek ever' one has an entry this year."

"That is a fact. They all look good. Their Daddy would whup ever' one of 'em if they didn't keep them animals up good. He won I don' know how many ribbons an' trophies in his day."

"Well now, he did from what I recollect. Well I better get on."

"Have a good time this year, Uncle Billy"

"Y'all can bet on that one."

Uncle Billy grinned as he drove into the fairgrounds. He pulls up to the exhibition barn an they is half a dozen youngin's see him an' come runnin'. They have his cot an 'bout ever' thing else in his stall before him an' Ol' Dog can get out. They are a grinnin' as hard as he is.

He rubs the burr headed Arnett boy with his big ol' hand like he has done ever' year. "That's for luck." Uncle Billy tells the boy. It must have worked 'cause last year he won for best of show with his market turkeys.

Uncle Billy looked over the hurry scurry of the fairgrounds and his grin got even bigger, "Yessir, they is nothin' better than a county fair."