 |
| The "Hammer" (courtesy of auburnxc-Flickr Photos) |
As it turns out, Tom proved to be quite the lover of the annual Antelope Valley Fair and Alfalfa Festival. If you grew up in the high desert of southern California, known as the Antelope Valley, you would not be unfamiliar with this annual fete’ celebrated at the end of every August and runs through Labor Day. We all called it "the fair." Some call it the Antelope Valley Fair. Out of respect I included Alfalfa Festival for those cowboys and ranchers who still participate in tractor pulls and cow pie tossing. Soon enough, Cathy was commenting on how much she had loved going to the fair each year. I was like, what? huh? Did we go every year? I'm not remembering this... Did we go as a family? As kids? Did Jim and I ever take our own kids? I couldn't remember. So it got me thinking, gees, I really don’t have any memories of us going to this stinkin fair. That’s when I remembered the 4H booths and the livestock buildings. So yeah, I did go to that fair. And it really did stink. The "Alfalfa Festival" remains intact. Then I had a flashback to the 60s of a time when I did go to the fair, and Cathy was with me. In honor of the 2010 AV Fair AND Alfalfa Festival arriving this month, I share this with you.
I only have one memory of my sister, Cathy and me at the fair. Now that’s just sad, isn’t it? Only one. But it’s significant because it drew a strange bond in my childhood mind to a sister that I had considered invincible. My best guess is that we were probably 11 and 13? Not much older if that. So the year was close to 1965. At that age we must have been with our parents. I'd love to make up something really interesting here but the truth is, I honestly don’t recall the details. (are you sensing a theme here?) What I do remember is the two of us deciding to ride "The Hammer", located in the SCARY section of the midway. It consisted of a cage at the end of a long iron arm. There were two arms that rocked, scissor-like, back and forth opposite each other, as each built up speed that eventually caused the cage to turn full circle and spun round and round. In each cage sat two people who were fastened by a single lap belt. When it was our turn we climbed into the cage. I remember the carnie who belted us in was a huge, ugly, hygiene-deficient jerk who would NOT listen to our pleas that the belt he had "secured" was NOT TIGHT enough. We looked at each other and felt helpless. Because we were! That's when I noticed the open area in the front of the cage. It was certainly large enough for me to slip through, and definitely big enough for the both of us to fall out of. OK. Changed my mind. I wanted OFF.
Then the Hammer began to move. Our cage began to rock. We swung up; we swung down. And we were not enjoying this one bit. This was not fun. And as that stinking "Hammer" began to move towards it’s 360 degree turn, our lap belt began to feel looser than before we stepped in. We hung upside down hanging onto that belt for dear life. Seriously. I was plastered to one side of the cage with my feet pressing firmly to anything that would keep me from falling through that hole in front of me. Cathy was plastered elsewhere and we were unable to reach each other. More importantly, my big sister couldn't reach ME. All we could do was white knuckle that lap belt and keep our legs outstretched in a determined effort to remain inside a cage we desperately wanted out of. It was truly terrorizing. In my mind there was no question of whether or not we'd fall to our deaths. It was just a matter of when.
We both began screaming for it to stop! And of course, it didn’t. We'd paid for this thrill with two ten cent tickets and apparently we were going to get what we'd paid for. NO EXCEPTIONS. I finally caught a glimpse of Cathy and the fear on her face made this all too real. It wasn’t long before we were both screaming for our mom. Literally. It just seemed the natural thing to do when all hope is lost. Did we think she could hear us? Could anyone hear us? The funny things is, I knew that my sister could hear ME. Strangely, that gave me some slight comfort, though we were both facing the same demise. Eventually and mercifully, the ride ended. Why is it that rides you hate always last twice as long as the ones you love? It's one of those childhood anomalies. It's like a parent telling his crying kid to be quiet or "I'll give you something to cry about." It makes no sense. So, we wobbled out of the Hammer, happier than life itself to have our feet on solid ground. I gave that creepy carnie the meanest look I could muster. He'd nearly killed us and he didn't even seem to care. He didn't. He was already lap belting his next two victims. I hate him still.
I don’t remember anything else that happened after that. Perhaps it was the TRAUMA. I don't know. What I do remember is - that was the night I learned something amazing. My invincible big sister was capable of the same fear that I was. Together we had gotten hammered at the 1965 Antelope Valley Fair (and Alfalfa Festival). Together, we had faced death, and together we had survived. We now shared a bond that I have since to share with anyone else. And I'll have it for the rest of my life. Now how cool is that?
And Facebook Tom, I don't care if I ever go to another AV Fair (and Alfalfa Festival) again. But I do hope you have a blast. If you pass by "The Hammer" please do me a favor. Keep Walkin...
~Susan~
We both began screaming for it to stop! And of course, it didn’t. We'd paid for this thrill with two ten cent tickets and apparently we were going to get what we'd paid for. NO EXCEPTIONS. I finally caught a glimpse of Cathy and the fear on her face made this all too real. It wasn’t long before we were both screaming for our mom. Literally. It just seemed the natural thing to do when all hope is lost. Did we think she could hear us? Could anyone hear us? The funny things is, I knew that my sister could hear ME. Strangely, that gave me some slight comfort, though we were both facing the same demise. Eventually and mercifully, the ride ended. Why is it that rides you hate always last twice as long as the ones you love? It's one of those childhood anomalies. It's like a parent telling his crying kid to be quiet or "I'll give you something to cry about." It makes no sense. So, we wobbled out of the Hammer, happier than life itself to have our feet on solid ground. I gave that creepy carnie the meanest look I could muster. He'd nearly killed us and he didn't even seem to care. He didn't. He was already lap belting his next two victims. I hate him still.
I don’t remember anything else that happened after that. Perhaps it was the TRAUMA. I don't know. What I do remember is - that was the night I learned something amazing. My invincible big sister was capable of the same fear that I was. Together we had gotten hammered at the 1965 Antelope Valley Fair (and Alfalfa Festival). Together, we had faced death, and together we had survived. We now shared a bond that I have since to share with anyone else. And I'll have it for the rest of my life. Now how cool is that?
And Facebook Tom, I don't care if I ever go to another AV Fair (and Alfalfa Festival) again. But I do hope you have a blast. If you pass by "The Hammer" please do me a favor. Keep Walkin...
~Susan~
