AlexSandra Lett "Lett's Set a Spell"

Riding High at the County Fair

As back-to-school classes replaced bringing-in-the-harvest chores in the 1960s, we young'uns anticipated a special tradition. On a Tuesday afternoon in early fall -- the day students were admitted free --Mama and Daddy picked us up at Broadway School, and we headed for the biggest playground in Lee County: the fabulous fair.

As we entered the gates we were tantalized by the aroma of candied apples, cotton candy, freshly made taffy, hot dogs smothered with onions, slaw, and chile, and greasy French fries laced with ketchup.

With the wonder of Christmas morning we watched the familiar Merry-Go-Round and sought new thrilling toss-abouts that might offer a burst of butterflies in our stomachs. My brother Jimmy was a dare devil and became hell on wheels in the bumper cars. My sister Carolyn preferred the gentle motion of the ferris wheel. I opted for the roller coaster that always stopped short just in the nick of time before throwing me and other riders into outer space. That would become a metaphor for my chaotic life!

We always met friends at the fair, and one time a classmate and neighbor Pam Womack, came with us. A taunting hawker convinced us that we had not lived until we rode the spine-tingling cyclone. After we were locked tight in a large cage, we moved faster and faster until our bodies bounced like rubber balls and our screams almost burst our lungs. Chaos reigned. I heard Pam praying louder and louder saying, "Lord Jesus, help me, Lord Jesus, help me, I'll never sin again, I'll never sin again." As the spinning slowed and we moved toward the off ramp, Pam's face was white as a sheet. We held each other's hands so tightly our nails dug into flesh.

Arm in arm Pam and I pretended not to hear the call of the silk-tongued men praising parading prancers and dancers on stage at the "hoochy-coochy" show. Her mother Lena never dressed that way, and my Mama pulled us along, exclaiming in a shrill voice, "I wouldn't be caught dead in those vulgar clothes."

Like good little girls we headed for the exhibit halls, enjoyed the sweet aroma of baked pies and quiet beauty of pickled cucumbers, and relished the sounds of roosters crowing, cows mooing, and hogs snorting. Never had I seen such a cornecopia of farm produce and animals, ranging in color and size beyond my Daddy's proud pets and garden pickin's, beyond his tall tales. I especially liked the multi-feathered chickens that looked more like works of art than egg-layers and Sunday dinner. A display of foreign foods intriqued me -- after all, I had just made my first pizza from a box and knew only that it was a favorite in Italy. Here I stared at Chinese, Japanese, French, Spanish, and Indian delicacies and didn't have a clue what they were -- delightful dishes but unlike my Mama's offerings at home. Another booth showed costumes from other countries -- Dutch wooden shoes, Scottish kilts, Japanese kimonas, and exotic evening gowns fit for queens. The fair's "citified" wares revealed offerings beyond my wildest imagination.

Tuckered out and aware that we "Cinderellas" -- dazzled wide-eyed country girls -- would turn into pumpkins soon, we looked around once more at the beckoning bright lights. Just before we left Pam whispered in my ear, "one more ride," and we headed back to the thriller that had provoked Pam's tormented prayers and sealed our sisterhood. Together we boarded the cyclone, all too aware that the frightening screams from our hoarse throats would have to last us another whole year.