The County Fair and the Radio
It was a testament to my love of music (In fact, I sit stunned at how much of my life has had music at the core of it) I cannot play but I can listen as if my soul depends upon it and maybe it does) * * * I needed money (a few bucks) and I needed Coke bottle caps (ones with a little radio printed underside) It took a child's eternity but I saved the nickels dimes quarters in a Budd's Sweet Perfecto cigar box I saved the bottle caps in a used brown paper lunch bag until I had enough to send off for the Radio My very first, very own keep-your-hands-off-it-it's-mine Radio I double tripled checked to make sure I had it right then mailed off for it I waited and waited so long, so long I forgot to ask everyday Did it come? I can still remember (and even re-feel) the scalp-to-sole cool tingle when I walked into the kitchen and saw the Package The radio was beautiful as a thing (two-toned turquoise and white with silver trim) and even more beautiful for what it meant (a little walking-around music machine, transistors juiced to pump rock 'n' roll directly to my rock 'n' roll brain veins) The most beautiful thing in my world * * * For a week every September the Five County Fair appeared, as if by sleight of hand, just outside our town On Wednesday afternoons kids would get free tickets and out of school early to seek out the magic The feel of warm rising dust and dirt, mashed grass underfoot the cotton candy smell almost filling your mouth ten feet away the sights jerking your eyes left right center left right center the sounds vying unrepentedly for your notice I rode the Rides carousel Ferris wheel whirling teacup the Bullet (well, not the Bullet, but I enjoyed the spectacle around it: the squeals, the staggering riders getting off, the wet circles on the ground from emptied stomachs) I visited the Side Shows Come see the Live Mermaid (not even a good mannequin) Come see the Death-Defying Motorcyle Rider (parallel-to-the-ground, round and round in a cage, ear jarring) Come see the Hoochie Coochie Dancers (much, much later for me, but even the clothed parade out front was exciting) I went into the Big Canvas Tents Livestock (cows, pigs, sheep, all with their smells filling every cubic inch) Vegetables (cans, jars, raw; watermelons, pickles, tomatoes, beans, all lined up in clean rows) Crafts (adorned with red, blue, pink, white strips of cloth or the I'm-so-sorry ribbonless) Exhibits (scouts, hospital auxiliary, home demonstration club, junior chamber of commerce, cooperative extension) I saw every inch of the fair even behind the tents since little kids are humankind's most wondrous explorers It used all of my senses and fed me like a wonderful meal * * * That year my mother's club had a booth near the front of the exhibit tent with signs and symbols and things to make the point I don't remember why but their display needed a radio that year and Mom borrowed mine under solemn vow to return it But vows, solemn or otherwise, should never been taken as for sure only as intentions and intentions are forever held sway by the unforeseen Later that week, after school, she told me my radio had been stolen As I listened I focused on the single tear rolling down her cheek And I said it's okay When our family went to the fair on Saturday, for me the sights and sounds were gone, faded the thrills buried in the night I ran to the booth and beheld the empty space the nothing spot where my radio had lain Mom bought me a new radio grander, stronger, bigger, classier but we both knew we both knew she could not buy me back that lost chunk of innocence Harry W. Yeatts Jr. |