For years I’ve been my father’s daughter in my love for the Iowa State Fair, but this year I believe I’ve flipped to being my mother’s daughter, and I might be saying goodbye to the giant one-million-plus-attendees summertime event.
I began my relationship with the fair eons ago as an exciting daddy-daughter day. We’d enter through the Midway with its terrifying gauntlet of strangers yelling at me, trying to entice me to their ride, game or show. I made it through, clinging to my knight-in-shining-armor daddy who I knew would protect me from the scary “Come here, little girl!” barkers.
Then we’d be in the fun, adventurous part of the fair, where we’d see the animals, and I could climb on the newest shiny tractors on display. We’d walk through all the vendors in the Varied Industries building, which I thought was fun–totally missing the similarity of these barkers with the Midway barkers—maybe because they directed their marketing to my daddy, which was no worry for me.
We always had to find that amazing giant spout suspended in the air, seemingly not attached to any water source but continually streaming water into the barrel below. Magic. Of course, you weren’t allowed to reach your hand into the stream of water, or the illusion would be revealed as your hand bumped into the tube. No doubt they’d be disappointed that I have no recollection as to what they were selling. It’s likely I never knew.
One year I was holding Daddy’s hand as we walked through an area of electric fences on display. One was designed like a beaded doorway and as we walked by, Daddy put out his hand and ran it through the hanging “fringe.” In one of those “this would never be allowed today” moments, the gentleman turned it on, and a shock ran through my daddy to me.
Yikes! but amazing. It got one’s attention.
As always, the butter cow was a required stop, and there was also a lard pig—really. Not sure why the cow has stolen the spotlight and the pig lost his celebrity.
I’d get a big cold root beer or lemonade or two, probably a cheeseburger and cotton candy and was allowed one fair souvenir. One year it was a giant purple tissue flower, and it was crazy how happy I was with that silly giant paper flower that I displayed forever in my purple room.
We’d ride Ye Old Mill. The giant slide was in my future, but not yet built. Maybe we’d see a thrilling tractor pull in the Grandstand.
As I got older, I moved into my teenager-years relationship with the fair. During this phase, I got to take a friend to the fair with me. This drastically changed my relationship with the fair and expanded my fair-going group beyond daddy.
Now that I was no longer daddy’s single fair companion, mom had to attend the fair, and that was not really her happy place, but she’s a trooper.
We’d have assigned times in which my friend and I would have to hustle back from whatever corner of the fair had our attention to meet my parents at the Register and Tribune building at the designated time so that they could see we were still fine and send us out into the wonder of the fair again until our next scheduled rendezvous.
Now the Midway was no longer scary. We’d toss our nickels into elaborately stacked glassware of various types and sizes and be awarded with any glassware our coins didn’t bounce out of. I brought home my share of glassware for mom to use and she did, kind mom that she was, until slowly over time all the once-prized glassware disappeared.
There was the loop ride that would go back and forth and back and forth a little higher on the loop each time as we screamed until it finally stopped at the top of the loop when completely upside down we’d truly put our lungs into our screams as the ride slid back to the bottom of the loop again, and then finally made several full loops of the circle before coming to a halt. Scary was now fun.
We’d go to Teen Town in an open-air blue metal building with a grass floor and a zig-zag roof. It was more an enclosure than a building, but it was for us.
I experienced “Duck’s Breath Mystery Theatre” there and thought their song, “I Hate Household Appliances,” was hysterical. I still remember the “I hate, I hate, I hate household appliances” chorus. A harbinger to my future of not using them.
I didn’t know at the time they were a group of University of Iowa students who later took their act to San Francisco where they performed radio sketches on NPR, continued to tour their live show and put out comedy albums.
We’d join together in the evening for a concert at the Grandstand—the Osmonds, Sonny and Cher, the Oak Ridge Boys and more — a full day of fair fun from early morning till after the evening fireworks.
After years of carrying on my daddy’s love of the fair, I’ve flipped to my mom’s perspective. Spending a quiet day at home in my comfortable air conditioning with no humans annoyingly blocking my path and no cow poop to avoid sounds rather good.
It’s been fun, memorable and literally shocking. So long, Iowa State Fair, you’ll always be in my heart. (Although I’ll keep my options open on a return if I see you book “Duck’s Breath Mystery Theatre.”)
A joy to read and reminisce, this short story rivals any work by Jean Shepard.
Thanks so much for your kind and generous words. Happy you enjoyed it. 🙂
This article is great but it ended too abruptly for me! Why did you switch your view? Was it gradual or just an “I’m over it” moment? Do you have kids and if so, did you go with them to the fair? I want more info! LoL. My dad loved the fair and he’s a people person. Mom pretty much hates anything and everything that forces her to leave the house. Although she hated it, she’d begrudgingly attend each year. For several years now, the option to go has been taken away from them due to health problems. Mom probably cheers internally each year that she doesn’t have to go. LoL I’m definitely my father’s daughter and love the fair. I’ve gone with all 5 of my kids, gone alone, with friends and now, with my grandchildren. It’s a tradition I hope to maintain for years to come. Thank you for sharing your story!
Sorry your dad can no longer go, but it’s fantastic the fun family tradition lives on in your family and down to your grandchildren! 🙂 Your dad must love that. No kids. Was excited to take god-children once (twin boys) but they were not impressed, and we didn’t make it through a whole day before they were done. It was sorta a moment this year. It’s a grand collection of so many attractions and events, but I think I realized that I can still see most of those things in smaller, closer to park to, less crowded, less hot venues. I can visit my local Van Wall to see crazy, giant equipment; go to Winterset to see beautiful quilts in their museum; attend a horse show at the fairgrounds when it’s not the fair; go to concerts across Iowa; see wonderful photography at various art festivals; visit the actual Iowa State versus their display, etc. It won’t be exactly the same. No butter sculptures, no elaborate Pooh bear cakes, no Clydesdales, no free hard-boiled eggs, etc. We’ll see what happens August 2025! 🙂 There’s always the Clay County Fair and all the other county fairs across Iowa. 🙂 Thanks for reading. Keep enjoying our great State Fair!
I’ve wanted to go to Iowa for years. This year I was going to go meet a bunch of family, and alas have didn’t go so I missed it. I live in Illinois CLOSER to Indiana so have gone to it as much as Iowa. Also when visiting daughter checked out Virginia and Maryland, while at a wedding Michigan but that menu of fair food etc. keeps calling. Next year…
Do come to our great State Fair! 🙂 Foods galore! We have a bit of a rivalry–but the Minnesota State Fair is impressive as well. And Iowa’s Clay County Fair in Spencer, Iowa, bills itself as the “World’s Greatest County Fair” and it’s a pretty big deal–a bit of a mini-State fair. Fingers crossed for makin’ it to the 2025 Iowa State Fair, August 7-17!