House of Fun
It’s kind of interesting that the concept of a Fun House hasn’t changed since I was young. When I was in my teens I looked forward to hitting a couple of summer fairs. There was the Pumpkin Hook Fair; a little rinky-dink fair that was held in a field about five minutes from our farm. The highlight of that fair was ducking into the surrounding cornfield to smoke cigarettes with friends or make out with a boyfriend. This was way before Children of the Corn.
The most highly awaited fair was the Wayne County fair, which was held on the fairgrounds in the township of Palmyra. The WCF was always in late August, just a few weeks before school started. The biggest thrill about the WCF was that it gave you a chance to see classmates that you hadn’t seen all summer. It also gave you a bit of insight as to where you stood in respect to your own clique. Were you still “in” or were you out? Would the kids you called friends last year still accept you as part of their inner circle?
It’s amazing how much teen relationships can change over the course of two months. Our school district encompassed two towns, so some of us didn’t get to see friends who lived more than a bike or a horse ride away. With four kids to raise, my mother refused to masquerade as our personal chauffeur. Occasionally she would concede and drive us here or there, but for the most part, if we couldn’t get ourselves somewhere then we didn’t count on going.
Two things about the Fun House haven’t changed: They’re brightly colored and they’re very loud. I’ve never understood why the Fun House has to have really bad rock music blaring from it. Is the gatekeeper deaf? Is the music supposed to cover up the sound of something else, something ominous? Prompted by my older sister, I went through a Fun House once. Never again. I guess my sense of humor doesn’t align with whoever created them . I found the experience creepy and …. well, just not fun.
Canon EOS 7D
Time: 2:19 PM.
Focal length: 70mm