A Chronicle of the Fair of Ginny

(or at least a modest couple of tales)



(If you don't like long borring blogs, and pointless stories of very small children, we'd highly recoment that you skip this blog and try a story by Mr. Edgar Allen Poe - he won't tell about the Elkhart fair, but he will make you bald with fear and keep you wide awake.)

Yes, best beloved (to steel a phrase from Jims), you shall now here the tale of our stay in the land of Goshen. This was not the locale near Egypt where the Jews met a 400 year captivity, but I refer to the metropolitan Goshen Indiana (reportedly home of 29,000 residents, but you'll have to ask a local) where aformentioned Jims and I spent the weekend visiting Ginny's clan, the Landows.

My first lasting memory of this visit? Well, though we did see them at church, give and get many hugs from the Elkhart congregation, and had a nice ride to their home past the burnt truck, I must say that my most solid first impression was the one of Mush Casserole (no pun intended). Ah yes, a casserole! At once I knew that we were at home in this place where macaroni goes into a dish, but is never seen again. We sat down to lunch with Mrs. Landow, her mom, Ginny, and David (her bro) and began to partake of this marvelous mixture of pasta, tomatoes, peppers, and chicken. I do hope that Mrs. Landow never sees this and takes offense, but the reason this was so much fun was that it was in the midst of a lull in conversation and someone said:
"Is there cheese in this dish?"
The cook pauses, thinks and replies, "No, I'm sure that I didn't put any cheese in there, but if you want cheese you can certainly imagine that's what it is!"

What a laugh! Imagination food is the best kind, and Mush Casserole (and finds of other "secret ingredients") furnished the rest of the lunch's giggles and quips.

The Landow's house itself, oh best beloved, is settled in trees and hills. These were, no offence indended to Central Indiana, a sight for very sore eyes. There was even a creek and a river at the bottom of the hill just like there was in Shiloh, but these I'll have to see ::cough cough:: next time I'm up. Most of our time, however, was spent at the fair, and the Elkhart county fair is the largest county fair in Indiana, and third largest County Fair in the US! Ain't that somthin'?

Ginny herself had been showing animals and projects at the county fair for 10 years, and was on the fair board after that (if my chronology's correct) so she knew her way around and walked with the greatest efficiency. Many times as we headed off for our next site, she took the lead and soon her authoritative cowboy hat could be seen yards ahead of us. But then she would stop and wait, as any good tour guide would, turning to us with a look of "Poor short little people, they'd probably wander around the maze of donut stands, or get eaten by a display cucumber if it weren't for me!" Then I would mournfully remind her that some of us were more vertically impaired than others, and our strange little band would continue.


I already told you about the harness racing, which was a most enjoyable time, but perhaps my favorite part of the fair was the night ride we took on the ferris wheel. I had only been to a fair one other time a few weeks ago, and then it was only for a few hours, we didn't go on any rides, or see any animals, so I hardly thought it counted. Now when Ginny had asked me up, my one request was that we ride on a ferris wheel, because I'd never had that experience under my belt. Now that we had been around for a few hours I was seized with the desire to sit down on any ride that would fling me into the air. Our party stopped (by now it was Ginny, Jims and I, and a chap that goes to the Elkhart church named Christopher) and powwowed a moment. Heads were nodding, Yes, we could go on one ride tonight. Ginny called up here sister Becky and we scooped up ride tikets.

Now here it must be added, that Christopher very gallantly offered to treat for the whole ride, and when he went toget the tickets he was charitably repayed for his generosity by getting ripped off of $15. The ticket lady never gave him his change. ?!?!?! Can they do that? We gals were wrothfully contemplating fetching
fair security, when Christopher quietly pointed out that the lady was contemplating the same thing for us. A reluctant retreat was sounded, and we arrived at our ride a bit crestfallen and seethy.

But let me ask you, best beloved, would you advise one who had always been afeared of hights to find her way to the highest point in the fair? Nay, I wouldn't either, but that's exactly what I did. We were all settled in our little... our little coop and began our upward journey when gasp I realized that I had absolutely nothing below me. Did I bemoan my foolishness? Did I ask myself WHY I had come to this very tall place? No, my whole attention was wrapped in attaching myself securely to the middle pole so that I did not dash my silly self out on the earth many miles below. A fictitious danger? Nay, I saw with my own blue eyes that every time we came to the ouside of the circle I, the poor cabbage, was sitting in the heavens with only night air to break my fall!

This story (as truly told as any legume might have done it) does have a happy ending, best beloved. I received a few confused laughs from my party of protectors, and found that if I kept my back to the great frame of the wheel, the ride was downright fun. At last I was even able to scoot back a bit and pretend that I was on a veranda that was lifting me up and down over the fair.

But so much for grandious goals of grownup guts, I'd better stick to bumper cars...