Cranberries and Chocolate 4-H Fairs

Today, I am thinking back on simpler times. Times in places where things like a snickers bar seemed like the coolest treat to get after school. When cranberries struck my curiosity as I spent minutes which turned into endless hours as I inquired about where cranberry farms were. If cranberries and chocolate were not my only delusional method to enjoy simple pleasures while wasting time, then I would begin to look forward to the next class party, field trip, or Marion County 4-H fair.
I always loved the fair. It smelled of popcorn, grilled steak burgers, honey, and saw dust. I never was much of a 4-Her, but I knew how to get out of school just to hang out at the fair. Getting out of school was easy. All that I needed was an alibi. If I could convince my teachers that I had something of the upmost importance to do at the fair like help a friend with their goats, set up spectacular award winning display, or well anything that just sounded important coming from a fifth grader's mouth, then I was free from my school attendance. I always sounded very convincing to myself. I must smile because I probably looked like some sweet mischievous dork to my teachers. They never bought my reasons, but let me free since I had put so much energy into trying to be convincing. I would have made a great actress in the annual Christmas pageant.
The fair was my first place of independence. I could freely wander through the exhibits and just pretend like I was magnificently cool since I was free of parents and teachers on a school day. My favorite exhibit was the bee hive man since I could sample tons of free sweet golden honey. He always seemed to know what I was up to wasting all my precious education for a day at the fair, but he always smiled and did not interrupt my immature independence every time he handed me another spoon of honey.
Today, I just am warmed by the countless memories I had at those county fairs. I laugh now because there was nothing breathtaking or awe-inspired, unless you think that a steer show is as magical as men spitting out tobacco in an old rusty Folgers can. However, it was a theme in my life. It was the beginning of my independence. My parents knew that I was just wasting time and being curious, but they let me go for my sake. That is what made it so magical. I was free to start thinking of what I wanted to do with the time I had devised to spend. Like cranberries and chocolate, it seems like a silly thing to base a story upon. But, it's everything significant to a girl that revels in life's little moments.