The Junk Bucket

While poking around at the Freeborn County Fairgrounds, I come across a painted sculpture made of assorted bits of junk, displaying the words "SIX BEST DAYS OF SUMMER". I look again, and realize it is supposed to represent the fairground logo, which includes symbols of all the elements of the yearly celebration of summer in Minnesota. I move on quickly because there is more to see, and the Republican representative is moving out from behind his huge Trump cut-out towards me. It is only later, when returning on another of the six days of the fair, that I notice a sign crudely written and placed beside the sculpture. It reads: The "Junkbucket" and All the Pieces... made by a 83 year old guy with one eye

and a shakey hand.  This explains the "chickenpoop" welding. The sign made me think of all the passion that goes into the making of the fair.
My first visit is to the Floral Hall. I help with the judging of homemade wines, and know several of the creative people who grow and arrange flowers. Everything is displayed and I am anxious to see which entries received purple "Grand Champion" ribbons. Then I head out to the food stalls. My first buy is always something deep fried, like a corn dog or cheese curds. The onion rings are good too. The crowds start to gather towards evening, the funnel cake line is long, and the rides open. There are years when I have spent hours going round the rides with my

sons, but today I shudder in horror at the thought of spending any money at all on a whirling, neck breaking, stomach churning moving bit of metal and lights.  Instead I take a quick walk around the other exhibits and find everything much the same as last year.
I am invited to stay in the campground. I'm not sure I want to spend any more time at the fair, but accept the opportunity to get away from the crowds and relax in an air-conditioned camper. The campers are families whose children are working and showing animals at the fair. In between their shifts and feeding schedules, they

get together and share food and a few laughs. This year there are three smokers going, preparing pork and beef for a future feast. Coolers are full, with plenty of shade to relax in during the day, and there is sure to be a lively game of poker once the sun goes down. I hear all about how the pig and rabbit judging will happen the next day.
The children have been preparing their animals since birth and the day has finally come. They dress appropriately knowing that they are being judged as much as their animals. How the champion is picked out of the many animals shown is a mystery to me, but I learn a bit more every year.

My son is helping out at the Livestock food stand this year and I have a few hours to kill. I wander round the exhibits for a second time and admire the enormous quilts. But what interests me more is the exhibits in the 4H building. These are children's projects, completed out of school, not for a grade, but just because they are experimenting with finding what they are passionate about. There are crafts and science experiments, and attempts to carry on a family's legacy. I applaud these youngsters for their passion and hard work.

I find myself at the fair for yet another day. I have already visited all the exhibits twice, but there is still more animal showings. I skip the chickens, but get in on the pig showing. Some of the children, all dressed up in boots and checked shirts, are smaller than the pig itself. More than one is in tears and parents have to step in.One by one they are eliminated until the final three winners are left tapping their hogs around the dusty ring. These will be auctioned off the next day, or rather, their ribbons will be auctioned off. Feed companies that do business in the area throw their money around as a way of rewarding farmers who give them business. I watch a sheep bring in $1500.

I visit the Kiddie Barn out of tradition. My own children are well past the age, but I just have to see if there are piglets this year. I am surprised to find a display of bees and information about bee keeping. The puppies and kittens are already sold, but most of the animals here are on loan.  I wonder who decides to own a peacock, or an alpaca, or a very noisy miniature donkey. I realize that all the animals at the fair are passionately cared for by someone with the express purpose of sharing them with fellow fair-goers. They put money into breeding and transporting these animals without being rewarded with money. This is their passion.

I have now been at the fair for four days. I visit the conservation building and learn about killer wasps. Then I put my name into a raffle to win Senator Al Franken's latest book.  I splurge on a Greek gyro and listen to a elderly trio play bluegrass nearby. I arrive at the grandstand in plenty of time to get a seat for the evening concert. The band Kansas will draw a large crowd, but it won't compare to the number of people who showed up last year to hear Ted Nugent . It goes to show that, as the sun goes down, other passions come out. The beer garden can hardly handle the numbers when a country singer is on stage.
Families camp and stay all week, the working

crowd comes after 5:00 and lingers through the evening. Seniors are bused in on Wednesdays, then come back with their grand-kids wanting them to have the same experience of the fair they had in their youth. Teens take their day jobs seriously, selling food and tending stalls, then flirt and show off on the rides at night. Together they bring their assorted passions to the fair, throw them together into the 'junk bucket', and jointly display what they have been individually nurturing all year.