I drove around the fairgrounds, thinking they must be lonely without the hustle. The cannas and marigolds are everywhere ready; the renovated Coliseum wants to show off. That’s where I showed cattle as a high school kid while, I learned later, my future wife was selling lemon shakeups at the Exposition Building next door. There’s the Grandstand where we saw Willie Nelson about all 13 times, and out front the finish line for the Abe’s Amble 10K, where I’ve collected many T-shirts. This year fair people are substituting memories for the real thing. I bet the fair misses us too.
–Fletcher Farrar, editor and CEO
This article appears in No fair.
