WordSisters

Category: traditions

  • Easing into Fall with the Minnesota State Fair

    Buzzing cicadas signal summer’s last gasp. Cooler days and school are ahead and soon summer will officially be over. The sun is still warm but a hint of melancholy drifts in with fall’s cool breezes. Yet another summer is gone and I haven’t done everything I meant to do. But the exuberant excess of the Minnesota State Fair next week is the remedy.

    I didn’t grow up going to state fairs. Ohio’s is in Columbus, three hours south of Toledo, my hometown. Years ago, when a friend urged my husband and I to go to the Minnesota State Fair, I was skeptical. To do what—see cows? Play midway games you never win? 

    She persuaded us to try it, even when our sons were toddlers. The plan was to go at 8 a.m. when it’s cooler and less crowded. Leave after lunch. Our friend initiated us into state fair lore: Do the park and ride buses which are crowded, entertaining, and efficient. Get mini donuts for breakfast. Cinnamon sugar over greasy fried dough—what’s not to like? Try at least one crazy new food for lunch (the state fair has hundreds—it’s a yearly competition). Birria crunch bombs? A pretzel shaped like a mustache? Peri-peri hot chicken bowl?

    We had more fun than expected. The Princess Kay of the Milky Way butterhead sculpture. Fancy chickens with colorful plumage. A glimpse of rural life with 4H-ers parading the cows, sheep, or horses they raised. The Creative Crafts building with spectacular quilts, fanciful crocheted animals, and clothing ranging from professionally tailored to endearing first efforts. Jeweled jellies. Wilting cookies and breads. The Fine Arts building showcasing paintings, photos, and sculptures—a rare equal opportunity for unknown as well as established artists. Impressive crop art and giant pumpkins in the Ag building.

    Later we accompanied our grade school sons, who embraced junk food and water rides, but quickly learned midway games were a ripoff. For several years they collected Academic All-Star certificates at a casual ceremony. I’m not sure how rigorous the standards were, but we were happy to celebrate academic effort.

    High school marching bands are invited to perform at the state fair, and for several years our youngest participated. His bandmates poured out of several buses, wearing band T-shirts (August is way too hot for wool uniforms and tall white hats with black plumes). Free admission was the main perk for the teenagers. They marched and played a few songs and then were free to shuck their instruments and go have fun. Band moms like me handed out water in the mid-afternoon heat then adjourned for a beer at the Leinenkugel Lodge. 

    Two State Fair Grandstand performances are especially memorable. Bonnie Raitt playing blues hits from her “The Nick of Time” album in 1990. The weather was threatening but she had us rocking and cheering until the news interrupted—blues legend Stevie Ray Vaughan had died in a helicopter crash. We were all shocked and sad, but she did her best to perform, offering the concert as a tribute. In 2022, I returned for of Diana Ross. The nostalgia trip was fun, but when we were leaving, a shooting in the parking lot had us has all scrambling to get out of there. 

    Although our sons are grown, my husband and I still go. At 8 a.m., the air is cool and I’m tempted to bring a light jacket but know better. Once there, our shared cup of Sweet Martha’s chocolate chip cookies makes it easier to say goodbye to summer.

  • Lazy, Crazy, Days of Summer

    So, this is summer. We all began daydreaming about this time of year during the February/March doldrums. Longer days, more time to bike, read in a comfy outdoor chair, walks with friends or family, cookouts, maybe swim, possibly attend a local festival or even a trip to the state fair or a getaway.  Don’t think about bugs, grass cutting, watering the gardens, traffic, crowds, bored kids, very hot days, house maintenance at your place or a relative’s, ants in the kitchen, work that doesn’t diminish or go away, higher food costs or utility bills. Just roll out the lazy days. Really?

    For each of us with plans for a long weekend, there is a scheduler or boss with post it notes from a few of our peers for the same time off and calendars needing additional worker hours. Caregivers are scrambling to fit in dentist appointments, physicals, and eye tests and all required before the last week of August. And don’t forget finding drivers’ ed if there is an appropriate age kid in the house.

    What is it about our easy-going collective summer fantasy? Planted in our rhythms by school calendars built around agricultural and/or weather limitations centuries ago. Perpetuated by advertisers and businesses. Lots of people work their longest hours in warm weather. For them summer means more bucks to stretch through slow times. Or those extra summer jobs pay for the extra summer expenses. 

    What we share in our summer dreams across many parts of the United States are the simple pleasures of walking outside without a coat or gloves, not slipping on ice, seeing neighbors or friends while casually walking, sitting on a public bench sipping a cup of coffee or slushy. There are flowers to admire, fresh vegetables and fruit available that taste better, sunlight more hours instead of porch and garage lights. After staying inside during sunlight-starved months of cold, this is worth the wait. Wasps, bees, flies, mosquitos and ticks: please give us a break.

  • Chasing Spring

    The youngest member of the extended family is crawling and wanting to walk. His four-year-old sister prefers hitting a softball that is pitched, not set on a tee. The older cousin is closing in on successfully completing her first year of middle school. They are progressing in predictable ways that we all celebrate.

    If only the spring of 2026 would be as predictable instead of posting temperatures inspiring sundress wearing one day and tumbling forty degrees in a handful of hours. Snow, sleet, ice, rain and sunshine can be experienced during a school or workday. In the cities frequent snowstorms topped with melt and freeze have turned streets, even major thoroughfares, into pothole disasters. In the Midwest, farmers ducks float where spring fieldwork should be happening. 

    We could accept Mother Nature’s uncertainty in April. In May, we are done with heavy fleece jackets and would like to get the kids out of shoes that were worn a size too small through late winter snowy, slushy weather. But we’ll wait until spring really settles in. Money is as tight as the kids’ old shoes.

    Farmers can’t afford the same amount of fuel and fertilizer they ordered in 2025. Families don’t talk about summer vacation travels. Many worry about the coming expenses of feeding kids two additional meals much less extra day care or camp programs. We’re putting in vegetables where marigolds or coleus filled garden spaces. It makes sense if you have the time. Teach the kids about gardening and tending vegetables instead of using gas on unnecessary shopping trips. Maybe neighbors can pool childcare to save money. This might be the summer the grandparents are able to host grandma camp, or a cousin would appreciate getting out of their own home to hang out with the youngers.  

    It’s been a rough year and we can weather this. The kids want to spend time with their parents whether on a lake or in a community pool. We made it through Covid with its isolation and money squeeze. We supported each other through the Ice surges. Now we must figure out soaring gas prices and inflation. If we share with each other from what we have for a few months, we can manage a decent summer.  If spring will truly let go.