As children growing up in hard times, there was always certain things we could pretty well count on in life. Now, my dad was pretty tough during those days, but oh, how he loved us. It’s just something I know……there were the times…..

I remember one year, as in each year as they came along, we found ourselves crammed into the old Model A and on our way to the Western Idaho State Fair in Boise. For a bunch of kids who hadn’t had shoes on their feet all summer, it was a biiiggggg day.

Now, this particular day was going to be really special. Usually we watched the carnival rides, that was a thrill in itself. However, this day Dad had some money in his pocket and each of us who felt mature enough to handle it had been promised one ride.

Stopping off at Julia Davis Park to eat our picnic lunch – that’s a joke, my Mom never fixed a ‘lunch’ in her life – we hastily devoured our picnic feast. It was during times like this that we kids were absolutely positive our dad could be in the Guinness World Book of Records for being the slowest chewer in the world. (Similar to the feeling we would have on Sunday mornings, when, with a late start anyway, he could have again entered as being able to take the greatest amount of time to drive nine miles.)

Oh, well, back to the picnic then on to the State Fair. Wow, what a day! But, wait a minute…Oh, yes, first things first, and of course, the first thing you come to at the fair is not the carnival, oh, no! There are the animals, acres and acres of them, and always, the biggest Holstein cow your eyes ever saw.

And friends. Every little way you find yourself bumping into an old friend you haven’t seen since the fair the year before…and that takes a heap of catching up to do. It’s all wonderful, marvelous agony to the kids trailing along patiently and agonizingly awaiting carnival time. But don’t get impatient, we’ve still got a lot of things to do before we get to the carnival…at least the particular year which is imprinted indelibly in my mind and heart.

My folks are Grangers, and Grangers are ‘the best’, which, of course means that we will spend extra time in the huge area where the farm folk have displayed their produce in many unusual and inspiring manners. Never the same, these displays will have tiny rows of crops under cultivation with irrigation ditches flowing with water, and many times a brilliant rainbow decorates the booth. There will be mouth-watering melons lining the display, jars of beautifully canned fruits and vegetables, flowers of every size and description, and all of it accomplished with hard work, loving care, and a ‘touch’ from God.

I can’t tell you just what year this memorable day occurred, but I must have been eight or nine years old, and I think it was probably the same year that Fritos were invented. The reason I think this is because…well, the folks never spent much time in the commercial buildings. Never much for drooling over things they knew they couldn’t have, and never much for entering gimmick contests or drawings to win a prize.

Anyway, we always made a quick run through the fabulous displays of all the new ‘this and thats’ of the year… be patient, I’m getting there…just inside the door is a huge display of curly, crisp, warm-baked corn chips, with free samples all over the place. “Help yourselves, kids, have all you want!” the man would say over and over. And so we did.

You might think – Fritos…so what’s the big deal? To a batch of kids who never had a potato chip except when a wealthy person brought some to a potluck, it was a big deal. We might have just finished a huge picnic down at the park, but there was still room for a stack of Fritos.

Finally we made it over to the carnival area…our hearts sank…clear down to the bottom of a bottomless pit… for positioned near the entrance to the carnival was a ticket-taker. Never before had they charged admittance to get into the carnival area, and this year of all years we learned we must pay to enter that land of thrills and fantasy.

My Dad barely hesitated. I’ll never forget how he got that set look on his face, picked up my baby sister and said “Come on, kids.” Following him, he guided us around behind trucks and equipment, (the mama, the daddy and eight little ones) until coming to a lot step-over fence behind the rides. Stepping quickly across, we went to the carnival.

Somehow, on that day my Dad was a hero. We instinctively understood, even at a very young age, the immense pride which ruled our Dad’s lifestyle. He was always honest and never asked for anything. But on that day, Dad’s love for us kids had caused him to swallow his pride and sneak us into the carnival so we could still have our promised ‘ride’.

I’m really touchy everytime people begin pinning admission prices in places where they have never been before. I love the nice old-fashioned Payette County Fair where the pace is slow and easy, no admission is charged, and it’s just like holding a reunion each year. People stroll casually along the midway, visiting with old friends. 4-H members work industriously serving hamburgers by the hundreds… and, of course, the sweet little ladies with their scrumptious homemade pies. It’s one of those unexplainable things like sand in your food at the beach – or ants in your picnic lunch – the flies on your ‘roasting ear’ at the fair are just a part of the atmosphere that whets the appetite until everything tastes good.

Put an admission gate at the county fair and your whole atmosphere will change. There are many of us who are ‘dyed in the wool country’ and we like it the way it is.’ It’s rare…but it’s very, very good…down at the Payette County Fair.