It was a hot Sunday morning in August and I was making my annual visit to the Benton Country Fair, in Central Minnesota. Many of us go once a year just to look, and maybe play, but to the farm families in Central Minnesota, it is a chance to show off their best offerings of dairy and beef cattle, goats, sheep, pigs, rabbits and fowl. Some pay very close attention to the latest trucks and farm machinery, but we all eat roasted sweet corn, funnel cakes, and corn dogs. The old folks marveled at the energy of long legged young ladies in tight jeans and eager farm boys who put their horses and scrubbed show cattle through the paces to impress stern old judges. The youngsters and the young at heart spend the day at the Carnival Midway, on the rides and playing the games. I do all of those things, but today it is also my turn to take shift at the information booth for the Central Minnesota Bar Association.
By the time I got to the fairgrounds, the Rooster Crowing Contest was over and a Minister dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans was on stage leading a similarly dressed crowd in singing Amazing Grace. In the background, all the less cooperative fowl had finally decided to join in for the chorus. His face looked familiar, so after the service I followed him over to the 4H Dinning Hall.
When the young lady behind the counter yelled " Hi, Reverend Larry, do you want the fried chicken again ", he nodded.
I was right behind him, and when I recognized him as one of my Son's high school friends, I whispered " so Don, are you trying to kill off the competition one chicken at a time."
He whirled around and when he saw past my recently cultivated grey beard, he said " Oh hi , Mr. Carlson, I didn't except to run into you here. .. ahhh, how about we find a bench"
We went over to the far corner of the booth and started to visit. He asked about my Son, and said he was sorry to hear that my wife had left me. I told him that the last I had heard, he was a Professor of Mathematics in Arizona. and wondered when he had become to Evangelist. He lowered his voice and told me that he was both. At the University he was known as Doctor Donald De Sille, but every summer he became Reverend Larry Lea De Sille, the traveling Chaplin for the carnival workers at Tri-State Enterprises. He added that even a man who loves the rarified atmosphere of numbers, needs to spend a little time with his feet on the ground every so often.
The carnival company has a small group of hard core carnies, but they still needed a lot of summer workers. The parents were a lot more willing to let their children travel with the show once they were told that a Baptist Minister would be there to watch over them. When I said that I thought he was a Buddhist, he smiled and said that one of his jobs was to help the carnies reduce their stress and keep their emotions under control, and they are more willing to learn about Jesus than Siddhartha. He also added that it was not a good idea to appear too educated, so he would appreciate it, if I would keep his other job a secret.
After lunch, I waved good bye and told him his secret was safe with me. I toured the grounds before going back to my booth. The Army Reserve was showing off some of the new toys, and young children eagerly climbed over and inside the Humvee, while young men with freshly cut hair were handing out tee shirts and pamphlets to the teenagers. Over at the Merchant's Building. the Trade Unions, political groups, both pro-choice and pro-life groups and a wide variety of snake oil salesmen and stockbrokers were just setting up the booths. Our booth was correctly positioned next to the Funeral Director's Association, because we both had the same mission. We performed services that our clients were unable or unwilling to perform for themselves.
The carnival workers were nursing hangovers, but by noon there were long lines at all the rides and game booths. Today was the last day of the fair, so prices for the "show specials " have been cut again, and all rides were half price. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy hung heavy in the still hot air, and hundreds of feet kicked up little clouds of dust.
By the end of my shift, the music blaring from the mid-way had quieted down and the families with children were leaving. The Budweiser Tent was still open and the ground was littered with little sticks from the Corn Dogs. Earlier, the Cheese Curds, Buffalo Burgers, Smoked Turkey Legs, Brats, and Funnel Cakes were being washed down with lemonade, soda pop, or " Grandpa's Homemade Root Beer", but now even the local dairy farmers were buying beer instead of the obligatory milk shakes. I had just started to sip my beer when the bartender looked at a young woman with bright blue eyes and tight blue jeans to match, and asked her for proof of her age.
The bartender squinted at the driver's license and recognized her name. He said, " aren't you the young lady that won Best of Show with the Angus Heifer? I thought that all the exhibiters would be halfway home by now."
She sighed and said " yes, I should be home by now but we snapped an axel on the trailer and Mom and Daddy went home to get another one, and the fair ground people said that my Heifer could stay over in the barn if someone stayed with her." She sighed again and said " I know the carnies will be here until tomorrow taking down the midway, but I am kind of afraid to hang out with them, so I guess tonight it will just me and Buttercup, and our lazy Rooster, Clyde."
The bartender looked up at the young man approaching the tent and said " well maybe we can find you a nice safe escort. Hey, Reverend Larry, have you got a minute".
