LYNDEN, Washington — The owner of black mini schnauzer named
Cowboy led him by the leash through a test run of the doggie
obstacle course: clearing low hurdles, climbing over the
footbridge, weaving around markers, and navigating the aboveground
tunnel. The only rough patch came when it was time for Cowboy to
lie down at the end, a signal to would-be judges to stop the clock.
The schnauzer cocked his head and gave a thoughtful look to his
owner, as if to say, “Look, I already did your obstacle course. Now
you want me to lie down too?”
He’s got a point, I thought as I sat on the compact old
bleachers in the Northeast corner of the Northwest Washington Fair.
There were no events scheduled for a while, so people used the
stands as spillover seating to eat barbecue sandwiches and corn on
the cob or just to take a load off.
Benchwarmers traded advice and gossip about the fair. I found
out that a rider was hospitalized Monday after he was trampled by a
team of ponies, which had to be embarrassing. Screwups with the
newfangled computerized ticketing system led to long lines at the
front entrance that extended for several blocks. Fair management
delayed the demolition derby rather than risk the crowd’s
wrath.
It was fun to learn these things early, but I would have heard
it all eventually. The fair is the one really big deal in Lynden.
People from Canada, Bellingham, and more exotic locales — who
would never otherwise bother to set foot in town — make it out
during that brief window every August. Near as I can tell, they
come for two reasons.
First, the spectacle is objectively impressive. The arena
manages to draw reasonably popular acts or groups that used to be
big. This year, crowds could watch Merle Haggard, Terri Clark,
Mercy Me, and the '70s megahit prog rock band Styx. Animal
exhibition areas featured dogs, ducks, chickens, turkeys, peacocks,
guinea hens, guinea pigs, rabbits, llamas, alpacas, goats, sheep,
horses, pigs, and cattle — including the biggest bull I had ever
seen. His name was Ben and he was fenced in behind large steel
bars. But looking at him made me worry that he’d snap them like
twigs and then flatten us.
Second, the atmospherics are hard to beat. Comic juggler Roberto
the Magnificent tried to work the crowd up Wednesday afternoon, but
he found it tough sledding because this is not a noisy fair. The
barkers don’t bark so loud here. You can walk through the rides
area and talk without shouting. No alcohol is served on the
premises and people tend to behave themselves. Even teenagers.
Granted, we’re no longer allowed to use the phrase “good clean
fun” without the ironic quotes, but that’s exactly what the fair is
for out-of-towners. For Lyndeners, it has the added benefit of
being the closest thing we have to a center of civic life.
Most everybody here goes to the fair and they spend money on
food and rides and baubles. If you want to sell decorative wind
chimes to Dutchmen who spend the rest of the year squeezing blood
out of quarters, best to do it at the fair when they have a
hamburger in one hand, an oversized stuffed animal in the other,
and a young daughter pleading “Daddy, please!”
It’s also the place to gin up social capital. This year, as
every other, Christian groups took out booths to hawk their Good
News to the loping (mostly Reformed) masses. Various ministries and
clubs staffed food booths with volunteers. Local Democrats
attempted to garner attention by giving away a scooter and selling
buttons with slogans such as “Arms Are for Hugging.” The
Republicans responded with a riot of red, white, and blue. They
gave out ribbons that told people to “Support Our Troops.”
So step right up, people. Come one, come all for the democracy,
the elephant ears, and the tractor pulls! Something for
everyone! The point here isn’t to praise the Northwest Washington
Fair in all its particulars as to point out that it’s the only game
in town, because, well, it is the town.
