When I was a child …
When I was a child we rarely went places. We went to school of course and we went to visit our cousins a few times a year. And we went to church. That was all standard and not terribly exciting. We were farm kids so walking to a store didn’t happen.
In my parents defense, I don’t blame them. With nine children in tow it was a bit of a challenge to take us anywhere. It was in fact a major undertaking. One of us got forgotten once when we all went shopping together. It wasn’t realized till we got home. My mom was very careful and a superwoman but that one time she counted one of us twice and a small quiet one got separated from the rest and … It ended fine and the lost one was found. Dad made a quick trip back to town to get her and all was well, except for the emotional scars, but we all have those.
What I wished for was to go to the local fair with enough money to have some fun. My mom thought this was a silly waste of money. There would be nothing to show for it when all was said and done. A bit of excitement, a laugh or two and then what. Money down the drain. It wasn’t till we were earning enough of our own money that we went. I don’t remember it all that well, but for a few rides that increased the level of adrenaline in my body from fear. I think we went a few times and then the thrill was gone.
This all came back to me as hubby and I went for a walk to the quay where they were having FraserFest. There were rides for the kids and tables selling stuff, a cacophony of sound and people. It made me think that there isn’t much at these fairs that change. The same calls from the tables try to entice us to buy things we don’t need and the same rides are there to excite us, but when all is said and done there is nothing new, and when you come home from the fair you still have nothing to show for it. I am so becoming my mother.
