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On Sunny Lane: County Fair

Sweetheart and I went to the county fair last week.

Now, Sweetheart and I don’t usually go to the county fair. In fact, in all of the years we have known each other, we have never gone to the county fair. We have no cows, goats or chickens to enter in the competition. We don’t know anyone who has cows, goats or chickens to enter in the competition.

I could bake a pie, but, if I’m going to go to the work of making a pie, Sweetheart and I are going to eat it—not some judges we don’t even know.

And don’t even think about handiwork. I have knitted and crocheted in my lifetime and I used to sew clothes for myself and my children. I haven’t done that for ages. I don’t want to do it either. There are other things I would rather do.

We are long past the age when we enjoyed being tossed and whirled in a basket or cage until we are woozy and nauseous. When it comes to carnival food, we can do without.

So, you wonder why we went to the fair.

Some friends were setting up a promotional booth and they needed some volunteers to help staff it. We thought our service might be appreciated, so we volunteered.

When we arrived, the person in charge showed us the information that was to be passed out and some of the intricacies of the booth. It looked just the slightest bit intimidating.

We decided that our talents count best be put to use in the kiddie department. Sweetheart took charge of the spinning wheel. Passersby could spin the wheel and win any one of various prizes. I passed out prizes to the winners.

We had found our niche, as Sweetheart loves to harass people and would ask silly questions before he would let them spin the wheel. In the meantime, I blew up balloons by using the helium tank and tied them to ribbons for the little boys and girls to attach to their wrists.

And that is where the dilemma arose. Once the balloon was full size, I had an awful struggle to tie off the end. In fact, I timed myself and it took me ten minutes. (I do not exaggerate.) There were little plastic pieces that were supposed to secure the end, but the air leaked out—ever so slowly.

Finally, I hit upon a solution. If a person has to consult an eighth-grader for help with I-phones and other technical devices, perhaps they would be the perfect people to help me with my dilemma.

And, so, I asked some of the teenagers to tie one off before spinning the wheel and they were only too happy to be of service. I think they were proud that they could help and to know that they had a valuable skill.

I don’t feel at all too proud to ask for help from another person—no matter what the person’s age is. It’s a lot better than struggling to do a job that is only causing frustration. Everybody has different skills and talents—no matter what their age.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to blow up the balloons by mouth. I have plenty of wind, but when I blow, all of the air goes into my cheek instead of the balloon. If that was the case, I might still be at the county fair.


Dorothy is the author of two books—“Miles and Miracles” and “Getting It All Together “. You can purchase a book or make a comment by emailing her at

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