Yup! Call me a snob, but...

   We recently purchased tickets to attend a cooking show and demonstration in nearby Augusta. The cost of the tickets was $50 each so with that price, we expected something special. As VIP attendees, as printed on the tickets, there was a cash bar and hors d'oeuvres beginning at 3:30 pm with the program beginning at 7:00 pm. Seating was assigned for the demonstration and we were down front, in the second row. The price also included a 'goodie bag,' full of coupons.

   The doors opened at 3:30 for the VIP ticket holders but three hours and and thirty minutes seemed like a long time to wait. Maybe there would be vendors selling their wares or other brief cooking demonstrations taking place before the main show. Was there going to be some type of dinner? In addition to the snacks, would there be other food available to cover the dinner hour or should we walk in with a McDonald's bag?

   Having never attended an event like this before, we thought it appropriate to pass on wearing jeans and tee shirts and dressed in what we thought might be more reflective of the ticket price. This was not going to be a rock concert where someone might spill a beer or soft drink over your head, so slacks and a neatly pressed shirt seemed like a good choice.

   We arrived just a few minutes before the doors were set to open and we were surprised to see a rather lengthy line waiting to get in. As we joined the others waiting for the doors to open, it was obvious by the discussions going on around us that for many, this had become a yearly event for them. Some had attended as many as ten or twelve times. Sheepishly when asked, we admitted this was our first. “Oh! You'll love it” was the most frequent response. And the crowd? It appeared to be a mix of an older generation, some like myself, as well as many who were much younger and more women that men.

   Promptly at 3:30 the doors opened and after turning in our tickets and receiving our 'goodie bag', we were directed to the lounge with the cash bar and hors d'oeuvres. On the main floor, just around the corner, were a number of local businesses who set up booths, many of these businesses helping to sponsor the event.

   I find that as I get a bit older it has become somewhat of a challenge to hold a napkin piled high with food in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and mingle among the crowd. So, to be on the safe side and in an attempt to cause myself the least amount of embarrassment possible should I drop something, I found the nearest chair and made myself comfortable. It also gave me a good vantage point to 'people watch.'

   Every few minutes the staff would bring plates with samples to be tasted. The recipes would be shared and prepared during the demonstration later that evening. And while it may not have been a rock concert, the bumping and pushing to be the first in line to get the fresh samples...well you understand.

   Now I understand that times have changed. As a society, behavior and what people wear have become very relaxed. I am always shocked by what some folks will wear when they shop at Walmart. Perhaps it would more accurate to say what they don't wear.

   Fleece pajama bottoms, ripped and torn tee shirts, Snoopy slippers. Don't get me wrong. I like my fleece pajama bottoms and will wear them around the house. I will even wear them when I take the dog outside, but only under the cover of early morning darkness.

   Thank goodness there were no fleece pajama bottoms or Snoopy slippers here tonight, but I was amazed at what some had decided to wear on this particular Saturday evening.
   One might argue that clothes can cost a lot of money or that maybe they didn't get an opportunity to change after going to the Common Ground Fair. But call me old fashioned, I still think there is a time and place for everything and for me, that includes neat and proper dress. Yup! Call me a snob.

   The chair I had selected just happened to be next to the table where the speaker for the evening was signing her newly published books. I have never done a book signing, probably because I have never written a book, but it was very entertaining to watch and listen as many lined up to meet and greet her. It was her first time in Maine, she lives just north of New York City and is a recent graduate of the CIA (Culinary Institute of America)

   The show began at 7:00 and despite a few technical difficulties in the beginning, it was very informative and entertaining, even after the long wait.  But one of the disadvantages of sitting near the front was the smell. What she prepared certainly did smell appetizing  and not having any dinner, it was all I could do to keep from jumping up on stage and asking for samples.

   Attending the cooking demonstration was a new experience and turned out to be fun. If we were to do it again, however, we might arrive a bit later and have a mid-afternoon light dinner. And about what to wear? I have my neatly pressed shirt and slacks laid out on the chair, ready for next year.

                                                     

It is the middle of September and...

   It's the middle of September. The weather has been a bit different than normal this Fall, although I am not sure what normal is anymore. Lack of significant rainfall and warmer temperatures have delayed the colorful Fall foliage we come to expect this time of the month, but that didn't deter us from taking a trip to Farmington, Maine. Why go to Farmington one might ask? It's the third week of September and it's 'fair week'. It's the Farmington Fair and Tuesday is... Senior's Day. What better way to spend $2.00.

   It has been a long time since we've attended the Farmington Fair. We lived  and worked in Farmington for many years and went to the fair regularly. A move away, life, jobs and raising a family took priority over going to the fair for many years. But now, being retired and with more free time, why not spend a bit a beautiful fall afternoon mingling among the crowds.

   Maine has a long history of local country fairs that highlight farming and agriculture across the state. And while some of the country fairs may be a bit more famous and have well known names such as Fryeburg and Skowhegan, the Farmington Fair has always been one of our favorites. It's a bit smaller than some of the others  but has a wonderful hometown feel about it and while the food vendors have changed over the years and the amusement rides have become a bit more daring (at least at my age), there are still many elements of fairs of the past. This  was the fair's 175^th year dating back to its original opening in 1840. Yes. That was before the Civil War.

   To understand the history of country fairs, it is helpful to understand the 'Grange'.

   According to Wikipedia, the Grange, officially referred to as The National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry, is a fraternal organization in the United States that encourages families to band together to promote the economic and political well-being of the community and agriculture. ( I could say something very politically incorrect here, but I think I'll pass.) The Grange, founded in 1867, shortly after the Civil War, is the oldest American agricultural group with a national scope.

   In 2005, the Grange had a membership of 160,000, with organizations in 2,100 communities in 36 states. It is headquartered in Washington, D.C. in a building built by the organization in 1960. Many rural communities in the United States still have a Grange Hall and local Granges still serve as a center of rural life for many farming communities. And in Farmington, the major building and the center of attraction on the fair grounds, in addition to the animal barns and cattle pulls, is the Grange Hall display.

   One of the advantages of going to the fair on Senior's Day beside the $2.00 entry fee is that, with the kids at school, it's basically an all adult crowd. Now don't get me wrong, I like kids and my own had attended the fair many times when we lived in town. But when you get a bit older, it's a different perspective and while it is fun and entertaining watching the kids race from ride to ride and spill ice cream on their shirts, with the older folks, on Senior Day, there is more of a feeling of..."it's good to be home again". And no, I didn't spill any ice cream on my shirt. That's ketchup from the french fries.

   But one of the disadvantages of being in the crowd is that we all look alike, i.e. gray hair, no hair, gray beards, lots of flannel and fleece jackets and zip up sweatshirts, and long lines at the bingo booth and the betting window at the horse track.  When my wife disappeared, I couldn't find her!  And the music in the background? Early country-western. (Didn't see many cellphones in use either except to take pictures of the cows, sheep and ducks. Those ducks were really cute.)

   Although it has been several years, actually many years, since we last went to the fair, there were still people moving in the crowd who we recognized and who recognized us.  And the smell and taste of the freshly cut french fries and the sausage and pepper sandwiches would make anyone’s mouth water. Is there anyone who can  leave the fairgrounds without taking a big bite into a low-calorie (right) dough boy, topped with melted butter and powered sugar? It may be worth a trip back next year just for the dough boy.

    Going to the Farmington Fair or any fair for that matter is like a walk down memory lane and if you haven't done so in a while, it might be worth a spending a little bit of time in the 'country fresh' outdoors, patting a friendly sheep on the head, cheering for your favorite steer or ox pulling team and getting reacquainted with your neighbors. (Hmm. I wonder if Donald Trump has ever been to a country fair and taken a ride on the Ferris wheel. He might just learn a thing or two about the people who live outside the big city limits!)

Discovering a road less traveled along the way.................

   “Two roads diverged in a yellow woods, and sorry I could not take them both and be one traveler, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undergrowth:”
   Hmmmm. Sound familiar?

   I was recently traveling on the back roads of Piscatiquis County, heading home and singing along to the music of “Lone Star,” quite loudly I might  add. Suddenly I realized I had missed a turn and was somewhat lost. Me! Lost! Come on now. I have never been lost in my life. OK. Maybe once or twice.

   I was at a point  where  there was a fork in the road (I never did understand why they call it a fork in the road. Doesn't look like a fork.) and  I needed to  turn either left or right. There were no signs. This was rural  'rural' Maine. Signs cost money. Or maybe some teenage boys  had stolen them and they were now part of someone's rec room. Bad boys. 

   I looked to the left., I saw  nothing except trees and the road, The view to the right, the same.. Not a  house or building in site. Which way to go?

   I did have several maps under the piles of newspapers on the back seat and a Nuvi tucked under the front seat. But I was a man and real men don't ask for directions or use maps. They just go! So looking left, then right, and then at the sun, I made my decision. Beside, how bad could it be. All roads lead somewhere, right?

    I remember as a child that, often after church on Sunday, we would climb into the Plymouth station wagon to go on the endless 'Sunday drive”. By the way, that was when gas about 25 cents a gallon and the NFL Today was not on TV. But Johnny Unitas was! The good part? There was usually some ice cream waiting near the end of the ride.

   In those days, one might drive just for the fun of it, going no place special,  just driving for the enjoyment. Today however, gas cost a whole lot more and we travel to 'get somewhere', not just for the fun of it.

   The road I had selected was quite narrow and the brush and trees were now quite thick. I reached for my cell phone to call home to tell my wife I would be a bit longer than expected. She would ask why and I would have to tell her I was lost, an admission I did not want to make because I knew every road in these parts, or so I wanted everyone to believe. Good! No cell service anyhow.

   Often you reach a point and time on every journey when you ask...”Should I stop,  turn around or keep going?” I had no idea where I was but decided to keep going remembering and hoping that all roads do lead some place, or so I hoped.

   The sun was beginning to set and I was aware of several deer and yes, there was the faint outline of a moose off in the bog. Was that an eagle overhead? The fields of wild flowers by the water's edge were beautiful.

   I  decided to keep going. It was  too late to turn around and besides, the scenery was beautiful. Within several miles, I was back on a major road, saw signs to places I knew and felt relief to be back in familiar territory.

   My little detour had caused me to think, however. Sometimes, it's OK to take an unfamiliar turn and  slow down just a bit. Now if there had only been a Dunkin Donuts Coffee Shop!
    “I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I.... I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”
   Thank you Robert Frost.

You too, could be the next 'American Picker'...

   One of my favorite shows on television is American Pickers. I don't watch it continuously nor am I addicted to it. I don't record it on my DVR, but I do watch it often, especially when I want to get caught up on what's hot in the world of 'picking and collecting' or when I need to do a reality check on prices and how much people may be willing to pay for “stuff.” Maybe not that much in Maine though. But at least the show does give me a general idea of what items may be worth and for me, the show is becoming more entertaining that watching professional sports these days. How many years will we talk about deflated footballs?

   It has been rumored that not too long ago the show spent some time in Maine, not that we would have many folks around that fill up their tool sheds, garages or attics with rusted out cars, old gasoline tanks, early metal signs, old toys and games or antique motorcycles. The list goes on.

   But after spending many Sunday mornings at local auctions, stopping along the roadway at a yard sale or on occasion, just poking around an empty old barn, I may be wrong. There are many who just put “stuff” away somewhere in hopes that in the future it may bring a big score in dollar value and someone will offer them lots of money. And it seems that there is very little that doesn't have some value to someone. Old tobacco tins are always very popular.

   A few years ago, tucked away in the woods in a rural Piscatiquis County town (northern Maine) among the trees were many old cars, trucks and school buses, dating back to the 1940's. During the late 40's and early 50's many cars were shipped north from Boston after the war and sold to the locals as cars and other vehicles were difficult to get in rural areas.     During the war much of the manufactured steel had been used to makes boats, tanks and weapons and cars were hard to get.

   Over the years though, many of the cars that were destined to live out their remaining days rusting away in the woods, were either restored or became props in Hollywood movies as directors learned of their existence tucked away in the Maine woods and directors were quite willing to buy and ship them to California and restore them to some degree their former elegance, although I am not sure a black 1938 Ford would be described as elegant.

   I was fortunate to be given an old sign from an early school bus which still hangs proudly in my home and is something that has more value to me as a school day memory and a gift than any amount of dollars someone might be willing to pay.

   In a recent episode of American Pickers, as Mike and Frank searched the contents of one of six outbuilding on an elderly man's property, the two became somewhat overwhelmed by the number of items that had been collected and saved. Not only was it like going back in history, but as Mike commented, it was “ like experiencing different parts of this man's life.” Not only did it reflect different points in his 'living'  but in many cases what he had saved and collected also showed who he was as a person, what he valued and what he treasured and insight into who he was..

   Deeper into the show it became obvious to the viewer, me that is, how difficult it was for him to give up many of his “treasures,” even if he was paid for the them.

   At the auction the other day, and from one who is a people watcher, my attention was drawn to a couple looking over the items on a table and by the way they were reacting, I could tell that some of the things up for sale this week had possibly come from family members, perhaps a mother or father, or maybe a grandparent who had passed away. As they looked through the box of old photographs, it was obvious they were having second thought about having them sold. Would someone really pay money to relive another family's life and history?

   I will never be an “American picker,” have my own television show or travel to the ends of the ends of the earth to buy a rusty 1931 Ford roadster. Maybe I should. It appears I could make a few bucks by purchasing old rusty bodies, mine not included. But, I admit that I do like to 'poke around' every once and a while an old attic or storage shed, maybe even at the local 'dump'. But with new “No Dump Picking Allowed” signs and all these shows on television now, people just are not throwing things away like the use to.