One of the great disappointments in moving to Turkey Hollow is that there really isn't an old fashion county fair here. Totally expected to be able to relive childhood moments, eating cotton candy, corn dogs and homemade pies! Even believed that at my age I could go to the carnival and brave the amusement rides that we rode again and again as kids. Of course, which one of our friends brought home blue ribbons and which of the local girls would become Miss Cumberland County Fair was on everyone's mind back then.

The Cumberland County Fair was a big deal. It covered acres and acres and no one in the surrounding farming areas would dream of missing it. People came from three counties and prepared for it all summer long. Those special secret recipes would be snuck out of hiding to compete in the pie and cake contests. Winning first place for a pie would not only bring a blue ribbon but also bragging rights to the winner who usually strutted her victory with outlandish pride. The loser would gather in the corner of the fair tent and gossip about how ungracious the winner was acting and maybe that she even bent the rules to win. It was a hard loss for many to swallow!

Not sure if this is true, but it seemed as though no one else won first place as long as Mrs. Woodruff entered her pies. If you have never had a slice of her glorious confection then you really haven't eaten pie. Don't know what the elderly Grande Dame of pies did, but one bite sent you on an unbelievable trip of pleasure. Today, I have suspicions that very proper lady secretly snuck hallucinating mushrooms into her dessert and made us lose control! Despite the sore losers, we all would line up to taste her winning entry and she would brush away comments by demurely responding, "Oh, thank you, but it was nothing. I just whipped something up quickly in the kitchen to make the County Fair on time." Of course that comment would send the losers into fits of rage!

Continuing on a high from the sugary pie, I would head over to the area housing all the animals. Tents would be filled with cows, pigs, horses, sheep and dogs all competing for that ribbon. Many of the fine animals were raised as 4-H projects by young kids. They spent days preparing their animals for the judging. A blue ribbon often meant a fair bit of money for the winner and often a death sentence for the animal. Never could quite get my head around how you could build that special relationship with the animal who rewards you with nobility by winning and then go and send it off to slaughter. Where was PETA when we needed them? But I loved at a young age touching and petting the cream of the crop of our surrounding area's animals. Even the pigs were at their best, cleaned from the mud, a "Pretty in Pink" look and snorting for attention.

Heading to the rides and stopping for that cotton candy and corn dog, we had to pass the 'sideshow'. For years I was not allowed to go inside to see what seemed to be the great wonders for the world brought directly to us: The "Bearded Lady", the "Shortest Person in the World" and "The Man Who Could Eat Fire". Several of us kids attempted to sneak into the back of the sideshow but got caught before we could even catch a glimpse of these amazing individuals. My father would go in and eagerly I would await his exit to question him endlessly about what was inside that mysterious tent of the world's greatest. He would only laugh and say it was too 'scary' to tell me which made it even more desirable.

No fair would be complete without winning a stuffed animal, a Cutie Doll or some silly prize in the game tents. No PAC Man machine in these tents. You had to throw a ball, shoot a rifle or toss the rings just right to win the coveted prizes. My parents would swear the games were rigged but how come I always won a prize after spending tens of dollars to win something worth about two dollars? Rigged? I don't think so! I won on pure unadulterated skill.

As we ended our visit to the fair, we were exhausted and filled with junk food. The walk to the car seemed like an endless journey when it seemed so close in the morning. Falling asleep in the backseat of our old 1946 DeSoto (photograph), I would dream of seeing the Bearded Lady and she looked simply beautiful in her mystery!

Those were indeed the days.