See You at the Fair
Originally printed in The Journal-News, Hillsboro, IL
If I had to describe why summer after summer I find myself drawn back to Hillsboro for Old Settler’s (on a Wednesday and a Thursday, no less) I would start with a fish sandwich. The last few years, I have driven up from St. Louis on Thursday after work, just in time for some fair food and the big parade. Every year I get the same thing, a Knights of Columbus fish sandwich and a Lion’s Club lemon shake up. My husband likes to give me a hard time about the fish sandwich. He takes issue with the white bread bun. He is also, as we say, “not from around these parts.”
I know I seek out the same fish sandwich every year because it’s good, but also because I know, without a doubt, that it’s the same sandwich my grandmother, Ida Menghini always used to order. She would take hers with a can of Sprite and a wad of napkins to keep the condensation at bay. I can picture her and my grandfather sitting in their aluminum lawn chairs with the braided backs ready for the big parade so clearly. I don’t like to think of myself as an overly sentimental person, but there’s something about Old Settler’s that can really bring it out in me.
For years, my family has participated in the same activities, eaten the same food, and told the same stories while we sweated through our shirts uptown. I don’t like to miss breakfast at the Moose or the kiddie parade. If you are standing near me during the queen parade you can bet I’m gonna tell you about how great I think it would be if a queen candidate rode in a lawn chair in the back of a pick up truck. We park our cars and our lawn chairs in the same places. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
Through grown up eyes, though, you see the changes from year to year much clearer than you ever did as a kid. A stroll down Main Street reveals new holes where booths have disappeared. Parade standbys, like those scary circus animals in their traveling cage, might not turn up. One terrifying carnival ride is replaced by another equally terrifying one.
In recent years, I’ve seen my friends and classmates grow from teens and twenty somethings dressed in our best outfits and ready to flirt, to parents pushing strollers and chasing kids around. I brought my own daughter for the first time last year. Still too young to beg us to spend all our money on rides and games, but old enough to take in the music from the Thursday night entertainment. So many people who probably knew me when I was a baby were over the moon to meet my little one for the first time. It was really special.
I’m looking forward to Old Settlers and my fish sandwich, but this year I’m especially aware of my least favorite change. The family and friends we’ve loved going to the fair with who we have lost. The ones we came to town just to see. The ones we shared corn dogs and funnel cakes with. The ones who sat next to us as we took in the sights and sounds. For me, it’s my Mom, but there’s probably someone for you too. It’s the blessing and the curse of great traditions like Old Settlers. Doing the things we love without the people we love is hard. But all those years we did it together, they prepared us. Not for the pain of loss, necessarily, but to find ways to connect with our loved ones even now.
Sit in your favorite spot, eat their favorite food, and tell their stories again. We can’t bring our people back, but maybe, if we have enough fun, we’ll see them at the fair.
