Today is the final day of the North Carolina State Fair.  This is an annual exposition, first held in 1853 and continued every year save for the Civil War and Reconstruction years (1861-69), and the World War II period, 1942-45.

There’s something distinctly American about state fairs.  There may be similar events held in other countries (quite possibly in Canada,) but there’s something iconic about our fairs.  I’ve been to them in Maryland, Minnesota, Florida, and North Carolina, and while there are unique aspects about each of these, they’ve got more in common than what is different about them.

State fairs capture the rustic charm of rural, small town America.  Livestock exhibitions, cooking contests, country music shows, even the shameless hucksterism of merchants of questionable sincerity singing the praises of the latest must-have kitchen utensils, speak to the imminent passing of our small-farm agrarian roots.

Besides providing a boost to the local economy, fairs benefit the community in other ways.  The day after I made my excursion to the fair was Hunger Relief Day, sponsored by Food Lion, a regional grocery chain.  Four cans of food bought one admission to the festivities; a Fair record 237,534 pounds of food was collected for distribution to local charities.  This, in a recession year, in a state that was a charter member of the 10%-plus unemployment club.  Small town values are still alive, indeed. 

 In 1928, when the North Carolina Department of Agriculture took over fair operations from the defunct N.C. Agricultural Society, they sited the exhibitions in the gently rolling pastures west of the city of Raleigh.  A half-century of meteoric growth starting in the Sixties has surrounded the Fairgrounds with urban/suburban development, making access and parking problematic.  Fortunately, an efficient series of bus routes operated by three local mass transit systems provides a viable alternative for suburban residents like me.  I parked at the WakeMed Soccer Complex, home of the Carolina RailHawks FC, a minor league soccer team.

Inside the exhibition halls, local businesses take advantage of the massive foot traffic to demonstrate and sell their wares.  Water purifiers, peanuts, steak knives, handwriting analysis, even the Sham-Wow were hawked by aspiring Billy Mayses and Vince Shlomos.  Prize 4-H exhibits mixed with food of questionable caloric and nutritional value.

Homemade craft exhibits spill out of the several exhibition halls onto the sidewalks between them.  I was particularly taken by this owl-bedecked rain barrel.

The North Carolina State Fair boasts the largest midway of any in America.

Come on in to the St. Paul’s Christian Church restaurant, folks…

you’re gonna love the food.

We’ve got good ol’ fashioned Southern home cooking:

fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and hominy grits,

and don’t forget about our just-baked biscuits.

Or try a vegetable plate:

okra, kale, and sweet potatoes!

Come on in to St. Paul’s—you’re gonna love the food.

A pink blimp soared above the grounds, taking me back twenty years to a Pink Floyd concert I attended in Carter Finley Stadium on the fairgrounds.

Next to the stand selling deep-fried candy bars, a personable barker performed.

Come on over folks

and give me a chance

I’ll guess your weight,

your age, or

your birth month

and when I get it wrong

you win a prize

any size

tell me what you want me to guess

I finished my excursion in one last exhibit hall, where some fellows from the mountains had a display of folk and bluegrass musical instruments they were happy to demonstrate for the onlookers:  banjoes, autoharps, and git-tars.

Sadly, my body soon made plain to me its expressed limitations.  I hobbled back to the bus, accompanied by memories and wishes.

Cain’t get ‘round like I used to

cain’t see right clear, neither.

Old age and them kidneys

keep holdin’ me back, you see.

I stay active as I can,

you know

but it’s just not like it used to be.

Love goin’ to the fair,

just cain’t do as much

as I want to.

And in my quiet moments

I think

it’s no fair

no fair at all.

Words and pictures © 2009

Kenneth M. Rhodes