Elkhart County Fair … nothing like it anywhere.

Yeah, I did 4-H. I got the ten year member pin. I usually entered the Drawing category, though I did enter my guinea pig Martha in my first year. I wasn’t very big on the club’s meetings and activities as I got older, nor very keen on selling geraniums, but I’m still proud to have been a part of the organization. I mean, it scored us a parking pass and free admission to one of the coolest events a Podunk town could have.  Oh, and it taught great values and all that jazz, too.

“I Pledge my Head to clearer thinking, my Heart to greater loyalty, my Hands to larger service, and my Health to better living, for my club, my community, my country, and my world.”

The fair has it all. It has the crazy Midway with creepy carneys, dangerous rides, and rigged games. It has that food aisle that smells like fried everything. It has farm animals, dairy barns, harness racing, demolition derbies, exhibit halls, elephant ears, tractor pulls, queen contests, rodeos, concerts and a parade.

As a kid, it’s the place that felt like Disneyland. Cotton candy on a stick, clowns, prizes, kiddie rides and a fun house. As a teen, it’s where you went to hook-up, smoke your cigarettes and flaunt your short shorts.

One summer a friend had invited me to the teen dance night. I thought it was going to be awesome. An actual event for individuals our age, dancing to good music and meeting new people. Instead, it was where I learned grinding was a dance move. I learned how much skin one can show and not get arrested. I also learned how to simulate sex on a dance floor in front of hundreds of other teens. It was probably one of the most disgusting and offensive things I’d ever attended, and that includes a county fair in North Florida. Felt like I needed a shower after both occasions and something to gouge out my eyes to make the icky visuals go away.

Another great memory was eating at the Taco Stand. It was my favorite eatery on the food strip. Immediately following suit, I got in line for the Crazy Dance, one of the newer rides at the time. You sit in a two seater while you’re jerked around from side to side, banging your head against the compartment all while spinning in circles at rather unsafe speeds. That day I’d gotten heat stroke and puked as soon as I exited the ride. But you bet I was back on that horse the very next year. Inappropriate dancing, unsound rusty rides, and puking up tacos are what make the fair so fantastic. You only live once.

One of the coolest things about having such a huge county fair, is that it brought in some pretty big musical talent for its attendees. Some of my favorites were Ray Stevens, CCR, and The Village People … there were probably even bigger country names, but I could care less about those. I think the biggest and best I’d ever attended was actually two summers ago. I hadn’t been to the fair in over ten years. I was home on a brief vacation and my dad got Chelle and I tickets to see Styx. It was unfreakingbelievable. Check it out here and here.

Chelle and me ready for Styx.

Lawrence Gowan

Tommy Shaw

Somehow, no matter how sun burned, dehydrated, sore, tired, and painful the fair is, it’s forgotten the moment they close those admission gates and you can’t wait till the next year. If you have never been to a fair, I suggest you make the trek.

What’s your best fair story? Email me or submit it below.

It was one of those things where I actually hesitated to go for a few reasons:

1. As weird as this may seem, I’m not really a concert goer. See, I’m not a big fan of deviation. I am the girl in the audience who wants the highly processed perfect version I play repeatedly on my system at home. I don’t want to hear new music. I bought a ticket because I bought your album. I didn’t buy a ticket because I think when it comes to all things musical , I believe you have the Midas touch. I also don’t want to hear a scat rendition of your most popular songs, either. There’s a reason the way you sang it for the album made you famous. Please don’t mess with something that made me like you.

2. The cost. The cost is crazy!!!! They are a lot of dough, particularly when you are a teenager, which is when you have time to waste and money to burn (and concerts are one of the few things that can keep you away from your folks all night long with an automatic curfew extension). But to me, that’s a hell of a lot of babysitting gigs and mowed lawns. I could see almost ten movies for the price of one concert (back in the day when my local theater cost $5 a show). They last about as long. And the Dolby Surround lets me catch every word, unlike at a concert where the deafening screams of my fellow goers muffles pretty much every word being muttered on stage. The entire thing ends up sounding like a performance by the teacher from Peanuts. So the ratio of bang to my buck is just not great enough for me.

3. The smell. Inevitably the same smells are prevalent at every concert I have ever been to. B.O., patchouli, beer, cigarettes, baby powder and CK One just don’t mix.

4. Art Garfunkel is not Paul Simon. If you had to see one or the other, I mean, c’mon?

However, regarding the one thing that always seems to matter (and tugs at my  heart strings a little, too) – Art Garfunkel had my hair. I was in.

Art being groovy.

I went with a couple of friends. It was a great concert, actually. There were one or two songs where I found myself missing the Paul portion of the dynamic duo, but all in all, I was pretty happy with all things Art.

A no-take-back, for sure. I mean everyone says “I saw Paul Simon in concert”. But nobody ever says, “Oh yeah? Well I saw Art Garfukel.” I mean, there is a reason for that, but I am a part of the road less travelled and proud of it. He was that good.

So I’ve got to know – Simon or Art?

Simon or Garfunkel?