Slim Randles' Home Country
Those little secret promises to ourselves
Send a link to a friend
[September 17, 2016]
means pencils and books for the youngsters, but it also means state
fair season. That’s when the world’s largest zucchini squash is at
its prime, of course. The farm animals are all shed off and shiny
and cute, their horns polished to diamond-like perfection by
hard-working and hopeful kids.
The state fairgrounds is an annual pilgrimage of sorts, another
temporary home. We need to touch base with turkey legs, corn dogs
and deep fried everything. We who sport gray in our hair, or no hair
at all, can look with relief at that giant slingshot that shoots
high school kids into a state fair orbit. It’s a relief because no
one expects us to do that. And when we were young enough to actually
do that, thankfully the diabolical state fair scientists hadn’t
invented the darn thing yet.
Cruising around, you get to see everyone at their best. Best
fair-type clothing. Best behavior. Best smiles. If you scowl at any
point during a visit to the state fair, you either aren’t trying
very hard or someone ran off with your date.
And we make those little secret promises to ourselves, too. You see,
we’d love to win a ribbon for making a quilt, or raising an animal,
or taking a fabulous photograph or coming up with the best painting
in the whole state. But not all of us can do those things.
[to top of second
Maybe there should be some other categories for
the rest of us, such as finding a parking spot close to the
fairgrounds that doesn’t cost $5. Practical things. Or how about a
ribbon for not missing a day’s work all year? Or for being a nice
guy and always letting other drivers change lanes in front of you.
Somehow, though, we have to be content with just knowing we did
those things, so we can feel like a state fair blue-ribbon winner
[Text from file received from
Brought to you by the new radio
program, Home Country with Slim Randles. Coming soon to a station