Straight Outta Spencer

Below is my column from the October 2015 issue of the Sturbridge Times Magazine as submitted.

It's not the largest fair in the world. It's not even biggest in Worcester County. It is, however, sizable in our neck of the woods and it is ours.

The Spencer Fair has to be the most un-hip place in the region. I love it. True, I'm not the country's foremost fan of Demolition Derby, but it's nice to know that there are people who have no problem banging into each other in a beat up old heap.

The plaintive sounds of Country-Western are heard from the loudspeakers on the main stage. Actually, the music is inescapable. With no chance of convincing management to book The Academy of Saint Martin in the Fields, I've long resigned myself to enjoying it. The rumors that my toes tap to some of the tunes are baseless.

Then there is the food. If you are part of Weight Watchers, Paleo, a vegan or kosher, there is something here for you not to like and much to scorn. That's okay, there's more for us who have thrown caution to the wind, at least for the duration.

Pork in most of its forms is available, if not avoidable. After that sausage sandwich, if one cannot find pulled pork, that is underachieving. Cheese fries were one of the first vendors to catch my eye. Normal french fries were also available, though the grease content was probably no less.

Had your minimum daily requirement of fried dough? Did you step it up a bit and get the fried oreo this year? There are strict rules for food safety and a board of health permit is required. One is tempted to think such requirements are superfluous given the nature of the fare.

Though known to give in to temptation after a not overly long struggle, I do tend to like to spend my money at more community based organizations like the David Prouty High School hot dog stand.

Despite all the social changes that have taken place in our country, some are still so retrograde that they judge a young man by the size of the stuffed animal he can win for his love interest at the games of chance. Plus ça change!

None of the rides are scary and appeal mostly to children.

The vendors are many and varied. If mass produced garish tee shirts are how you express individuality, you may find fulfillment.

The Spencer Fair is not just food and the hawking of wares. In truth, agriculture is the soul of the institution. It began in the 19^th Century with a local farmer displaying crops across his dining room table. That humble origin led to this year's 127^th edition.

There may not be a dining room, but vegetables are all over tables in the exhibition hall The tradition continues with displays competing for the blue ribbon. Almost anything that can be grown in Worcester County is here, from tiny veggies to giant pumpkins. I love to see these behemoths, but it's hard to understand the appeal. You can't eat them and they will soon be almost their own compost pile. I guess it's that we love big. As Josef Stalin said, “Quantity has a quality all its own.”

There is, in the center of the hall a glass bee hive that is a safe way to look at the little critters without getting stung. People hover around the exhibit all day trying to figure out which one is the queen.

Along part of the wall is the 4H table. It is refreshing to see young people out and about speaking enthusiastically about their projects and not obsessed with smart phones.

At one end of the building, life is emerging. First a beak cracks a shell and then with effort a wet, feathered little bird breaks out. It is the perennial favorite chick incubator.

Leaving the hall, we're not done with farm stuff. Integral to the fair is the cow barn. These are purebred animals that have been lovingly raised by the owners and are being shown off in competition. Inevitably, one of the ladies gives birth at her stall to a calf that will soon take its firsts steps. Doubtless, it will be to the gushing of the visitors.

There are tents with amazingly colored chickens and ducks and other fowl. Rabbits as well. Some animals are athletes as oxen and horses compete in feats of strength.

This is Labor Day Weekend at the Spencer Fair. There are larger such events, but they are far from here. This is a cozy, local affair. Would the world notice if it disappeared. Probably not, but something would be lost.

Where I grew up, in the next town there was the homey, little Weymouth Fair. It was part of the civic fabric and was well loved, then it was gone. That town is just an indistinguishable part of the Boston suburban sprawl.

The Spencer Fair reminds me I am a refugee here.