Here's to new memories at area fairs

All it takes is one breath of “rural county fair,” that intoxicating fragrance of horses, cattle, sheep, pigs, and poultry, intermingled with all manner of deep-fried foods, and topped with a whiff of warm spun sugar, and nostalgia sets in.

What I wouldn’t give to turn back the clock … for a few hours at least … and walk onto the Roosevelt County fairgrounds from my childhood.

My first stop would be on the shady bleachers on the south side of the old grassy paddock where a generation of 4-H and FFA kids showed their livestock for visiting judges.

I’d stick around long enough to see the pet show when Salty Cox was on hand to dispense corny jokes and blue ribbons to all-comers. Even a few grown-ups competed back in those days, including our mom, who (encouraged by Cox) mischievously entered our dad one year.

Next on the list: a cheeseburger at the American Legion booth, cooked by a sweating Legionnaire on a mammoth grill and neatly wrapped in tissue paper by those Legion Auxiliary ladies like Ida Mae Zimmerman and Floy Wilbanks.

Their old wooden building that sat smack dab in the center of the fairgrounds was worth at least two stops, the second for a heaping snow-cone or a cloud of freshly made pink cotton candy, magically spun in a cavernous metal bin.

Pony rides held an inexplicable attraction for me … inexplicable because we lived on a ranch and owned horses. I can’t justify why I insisted on cueing up to ride tethered ponies in a circle, but it drew me like a magnet.

After my turn on a pony, I’d follow the sounds of music to find the Old Fiddlers’ Contest.

It would be worth pushing into those standing-room-only crowds to have one more chance to hear Dink Essary, Alva Jay Parker, and Howell Merrick playing “Turkey in the Straw,” “The Tennessee Waltz,” and the heart-racing “Orange Blossom Special.”

Another requirement of that nostalgic visit would be a spin through the Merchants’ Building to round up a supply of imprinted goodies from our local businesses -- yardsticks, rain gauges, and fly swatters - on a mission fueled by a small brown paper sack of peanuts fresh out of a roaster.

Along the way would be winding forays through every barn and building, searching for familiar faces, and playing an “I Spy” game of spotting the names of friends and neighbors scrawled on entry cards.

With luck, there would be a chance encounter with Billy Smith, Roosevelt County’s extension agent for 20 years, or Sheryl Borden, who was the extension home economist back then, or maybe Storm Gerhart, superintendent of the livestock shows.

Finally, to close out the evening, a ride on the most beautiful horse on the carousel, before lining up for a turn on the Ferris wheel.

For a kid whose idea of a skyscraper was the two-story Citizens’ Bank of Clovis building, which had opened in 1967, a Ferris wheel was the equivalent of a moon shot.

There was something quite magical about stepping into that swinging seat for a nighttime journey into the sky.

Soaring high enough to see all of Portales, dipping into the lights and noise and crowd of the midway, and then rising back to the stars, again and again and again, while tucked in the safety of my mom’s or dad’s arm … what better way to end a day at the fair.

Here’s to new memories to tuck in between the old ones.

And maybe a side of kettle corn.

Betty Williamson believes county fairs are one of humanity’s best things. Reach her at:

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