The real Alaska State Fair

Resslin' Around, by Casey Ressler

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then some of the faces at the Alaska State Fair are worth at least 14 column inches.

Last week, with the fireworks just completed and darkness descending on the fairgrounds, my wife and I made our way to the truck, ready to call it another day at the Alaska State Fair. On the cold walk out to the parking lot, I stole a peek at our 21-month-old daughter in the stroller, and the look told me everything I needed to know about the Alaska State Fair.

With her head cocked to the left in a way that would leave you and I walking sideways for about seven weeks, her eyes were pasted shut. Her little body just couldn't take another moment of the fair, despite her best efforts to go at least two hours past her normal bedtime.

Chocolate was smeared from cheek to cheek, with some powdered sugar adding polka dots to her candy complexion. Her hands were slimy with grease from french fries, and she had small salt granules wedged in her fingernails. Even with her body loaded with sugar, she couldn't get another minute out of those eyes.

When we finally got to the vehicle, we tried to load her up without disturbing her, but it didn't work. She opened her eyes dreamily, and plain as day said, "More, daddy?" Another day, Madison, another day.

After laughing for a few seconds, I realized that that is what the Alaska State Fair is all about. It's about another young girl, Palmer's Kyla Peria, proudly toting her blue ribbon around the fair that she won at the Frontiersman's scarecrow contest. It's about every young child cramming as much cotton candy in their mouth as they humanly can, and then crashing about halfway home and falling into a deep slumber.

It's not about you and me going and fighting crowds, complaining about parking and the new security processes and whining about the high prices -- which, by the way, are ridiculously high, from admission to parking to everything, making it cheaper for a family of four to go to France for the weekend than to spend a night at the fair.

The Alaska State Fair is about the look on a kid's face when he gets off the Zipper, his stomach churning, and one thought going through his head: "Where can I get a candy apple?" It's about that same kid washing the candy apple down with ice cream, half of which ends up on his shirt, while mom and dad aren't looking.

The fair is getting more and more commercialized ever year. It has become a huge businesses, although I highly doubt that was the intention of the fair when it first got started decades ago. But take a look at the faces of kids in strollers, and you'll see what the fair really is about.

They are innocent enough not to realize the business end of things. They only know fun, fun, fun. They know cotton candy, corn dogs and caramel corn. They only know the rides, the fun events and the nights spent bundled up for the first time all summer, with fireworks popping overhead.

They are the reason there is an Alaska State Fair.

Casey Ressler (valleylife@frontiersman.com) is the Valley Life editor. He wishes his daughter's stroller was big enough for him to ride in also.