Due to certain familial and social obligations, I found myself in various activities in a small town of Northern Idaho as they had their town celebration.
I won’t say that it was unpleasant. Quite the opposite. Also, I would like to thank whomever it was that convinced young women to wear yoga pants that leave nothing to the imagination as daily wear. With that being said, here are just a few random observations that I happened to collect in my old noggin.
Helicopter parents and small farm towns do NOT go together. I actually saw kids playing on an old school merry-go-round, complete with the young’uns making it go as fast as possible, followed by various other young’uns being flung off only to jump back up and get back on after pushing it even faster. Brought back memories of my youth, and it was a joy to see.
In the same vein, country living and obesity do NOT seem to go hand in hand. Yes, there were obese people there, but far fewer than what you would normally find, and even the ladies who might have a few extra pounds had them in the areas that men appreciate. Farm living and being fat seem to be diametrically opposed. But that should be common sense. This point also ties in with the yoga pants. Yes, I’m male. Sue me.
Small town families = lots of kids. Again, it was a joy to see. The yoga pants probably don’t hurt in this regard.
Based on the various booths filled with crafts, goods and other sundry items, when everything goes to hell this is where you want to live, or at least have friends. These people do not just produce, they create. There is a vast difference between the two.
The normal small-town friendliness and happiness is tinged with a tiny amount of sadness and a larger amount of anger. Almost every vehicle parked down the streets had some form of bumper sticker that essentially told the government to piss up a rope.
I feel much better about where I live.
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I had the same experience at the White County Fair in Indiana. After just retiring from 32 years serving the Fair brought back my faith in the Nation’s people.
Was at a local fair in Shawnee, OK, last night. While I can’t speak to lots of young ladies in yoga pants, I can attest to lots of families, wholesome fun, and lots of Trump bumper stickers. But OK went every county Red for Trump in 2020, so that part was no surprise.
My late brother had an axiom: They’re called fairs cuz they ain’t great. Our state fair here in Interior Frozen is akin to a small town one (we’re just not that big of a population center), the major differences being the overabundance of the overly obese (Unfortunately, they’re wearing yoga pants too, Heaven help us…)and the utter lack of creativity. I miss the small town fairs of my yute and the village fetes of my time in Merry Ol’ England.
Trans women can’t wear yoga pants or you will see the lie.
Pierce?