My first fair as a 4-H member
was in July of 1962. I would be entering the fifth grade that fall. I subsequently
attended five more, with my final one being in the summer of 1966 just before
the start of my sophomore year.
One of the fair traditions in those years was
the annual Livestock Parade in front of the Grandstand near the end of the week.
We cleaned up our animals and then, as a club, proceeded from the barn, going
clockwise along the back stretch of the race track. There, with the traffic
from Grand River passing behind us, we waited until it was our club’s turn to walk
past the audience and have each of our names announced. The Grandstand was usually
packed.
As
exciting as this event was for a beginning 4-H’er, it was even more so for many
of the animals, particularly the cattle. The evening air, the crowd noise, and
the proximity of other livestock energized them. They completely forgot all of
the good manners so patiently taught to them over the preceding months. More
than one of them broke loose from their 4-H owner and took off at a gallop,
seeing if they could break the track record. Avoiding that embarrassment was my
chief concern. I hung tightly to the halter lead and, when necessary, dug in my
heels. Following the parade, there was a fun show put on by 4-H’ers and then
the fireworks display.
A couple of fairs later I did suffer some
embarrassment prior to the parade. Paul Grill and I decided to eat supper prior
to the parade. After finishing our meal (maybe gulping would be a more accurate
description), we realized we had enough time to go on a midway ride. We chose
the Roco Plane, a popular attraction for kids in our age bracket. With this
ride, two people climbed into an enclosed cage. The ride then circled
clockwise, but the two people in the cage pulled on the handle, rocking the
cage back and forth, attempting to make it spin backwards. So as the ride was
going one way, you were twirling in the opposite direction.
By the time we got our cows over to the
Grand River side of the track, I was experiencing a good deal of queasiness. My
stomach, full of fair food, did not appreciate the Roco Plane. It rebelled,
hence my embarrassment. I’m not sure I ever went back on that ride again.
While I had enjoyed some modest success
in my second year at the fair, earning a Junior Showman trophy when my heifer
was a senior yearling, there was no repeat in the third year. Queenie had given
birth to a heifer calf a few weeks before the fair, a cause for celebration
since girl cattle are more prized than boys. However, it was soon evident that
my cow would not be a top dairy producer. She was a hearty eater, had grown to
a good size, but not much milk resulted from all the grass, hay, and grain she
ate. Since producing a decent quantity of milk is what the dairy business is
all about, I knew my chances of a high finish in the breed classes were slim.
Ever the optimist, I consoled myself that there
was still possibility in the showmanship class. Not probable, I admitted, but
possible. With only that to hang my hat on, I decided to look towards the
future. In addition to taking Queenie to the fair, I decided to include my new
heifer in the entourage. Even though she was quite small and fragile looking
compared to other junior calves, I figured she would be easy to train. Unlike
Queenie, she would not be dragging me across the lawn during the learning
process. More importantly, I thought working with her at a tender age, and having
her experience fair competition, might make her a better show animal the
following year.
Well, Judo finished last in every class.
“Too small and young” was the judges’ verdict. The following year, as a junior
yearling, we placed second in that class. For the rest of fair week I was on
pins and needles, wondering if I’d receive a coveted invitation to the 4-H
State Show.
I did. And it became one of my more
memorable and enjoyable experiences. And, I might add, the enjoyment had little
to do with showing my cow in front of a judge. I barely remember that part of
the three-day excursion on the campus of Michigan State University.
My sister,
Carol, was a year younger, so she
also joined 4-H after turning 10. She named her heifer Ginny and had assistance
from our father in taming her.
One of the many things a 4-H’er had to keep
track of when showing a heifer or cow was their inclination to lie down when it
was extremely hot. That is an ever-constant concern since most days at the fair
tend to be hot. You’d be walking around in the circle, keeping an eye on the
judge, trying your best to make a good impression, and the bossy cow would pick
that inopportune moment to take a siesta. You might be the world’s greatest
showman, but the cow doesn’t care. She’s tired of talking around and decides to
rest.
A
quick yank on the halter, maybe a toe to the back haunch, usually cured the cow
of this decision. But they can be a stubborn animal.
I believe Carol was in her second year,
showing Ginny as a yearling, when her heifer decided to lie down. Carol pulled
on the lead strap several times, but to no avail. She tried pushing against
her, but the heifer was not moving. Everyone in the ring paused, waiting to see
if the cow would get up. Everyone from the stands watched the drama unfold.
The lack of success caused my sister to
burst into tears.
Glen Casey, who was an auctioneer from
Williamston, happened to be judging that day. He stopped the show and asked
someone to get a pail of water. Glen then took the pail, walked over to Carol
and set the water next to Ginny. He asked my sister a few questions and then,
after the cow had taken a drink, coaxed her back up and resumed the show.
I believe Glen could have been elected
president if the crowd, attending the dairy show that day, could have decided
the outcome. He certainly would have had our family’s support. More important
though, he reminded everyone of what was really important. Ribbons are awarded
and trophies given to winners in the various events. Ability is recognized and
applauded. And conversely, there is disappointment for all those who don’t win
or place as high up as they hoped. But,
while 4-H can get intense, more often at the adult level than among the kids,
it’s about something more than winning or losing, success or failure,
Each year, on the Sunday before the
Fowlerville Fair starts, I do a feature on 4-H kids as the front-page story for
our newspaper. Usually the kids are brothers and sisters or cousins. This year,
however, we featured four young ladies who were members of the same club, but
had also been classmates at Fowlerville High. They are all heading off to
college this autumn and, in likelihood, this was their last fair as 4-Her
members.
When I interview the kids, I always ask a
final question: What do you like about being in 4-H and going to the fair?
Invariably, especially with the older ones, they don’t talk about winning a
trophy, or making money at the auction sale, and certainly not about washing
and prepping their animals for judging. Instead, they say something about
“meeting new people,” “hanging around with their friends,” and maybe they’ll
add a few words about “the challenge” and “sense of accomplishment.”
They’re rarely articulate in conveying their thoughts, still I get the
message. In my mind, their answers are that intangible aspect that defines what
4-H and the experience of going to the fair as a 4-H’er is all about. There’s
the challenge of a project and setting a goal and the satisfaction of accomplishing
it. Yes, there’s the winning and the
inevitable losing as well as the elation and disappointment. You get judged,
sometimes accurately, sometimes unfairly.
But, encompassing all of that is the time
shared with parents, with brothers and sisters and cousins and also with your
friends and fellow club members. It’s meeting new people and enjoying old ones.
It’s about soaking in all of the experiences that are unfolding before you. And
it’s about having fun.
Having fun. That’s a hard thing to measure.
Back when I was a young lad we called it “goofing off.” The thing about having
fun or goofing off is, while I suppose you can do it alone, it’s immeasurably
more pleasing and memorable in the company of others. Of all the things I
remember about 4-H and the fair when I was a youngster, goofing off is what I
remember best. I remember we—my family, friends, and fellow club members--had
fun.
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