THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, October 23, 1994 TAG: 9410230085
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B5 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: ANNE SAITA
LENGTH: Medium: 70 lines
Sure, I expected to enjoy my first-ever state fair. But I never thought the Raleigh festival would be such a dirty business.
The concessions and rides and animals and competitions no doubt leave an indelible mark in most fairgoers' memories, but the one thing about the North Carolina State Fair that I will never forget is the mud.
I don't recall ever being so annoyed yet so appreciative of the wet, red earth that was everywhere in the 344-acre fairgrounds.
From the time we and thousands of others pulled our vehicles onto grassy lots, the mess was inescapable, thanks to a previous day's rain that left a lagoon of tire tracks.
Within the mostly asphalt fairgrounds, the mud coated the shoes and feet of fair-goers young and old - the humans and the hogs, the horses and the hens.
Most of the animals were cleaned before being put on display, but the people weren't so lucky.
``Don't fall off the horse. You'll get even dirtier than you are now,'' a mother whispered to her son who was standing in line with $1.50 in tickets, waiting for his 3-minute pony ride.
I'd given similar warnings to my own daughters, but a little later I got to thinking and developed a change of heart about the humus that seemed to follow me throughout the day.
It was mud, after all, that made all this possible.
Without mud, there would be no grass and grain to feed the livestock and horses being shown, displayed and sold.
The flowering plants gracing a horticulture exhibit would not have awed so many were it not for rainwater mixed into the soils.
The world's largest steer and other wondrous attractions - like the headless beauty queen ``miraculously'' kept alive - all needed the earth under their feet.
The french fried potatoes and roasted corn being served at crowded cafeterias and various other foodstands had begun in the ground.
There was the hay that provided the bedding for the cattle and the pigs, some of which probably longed to play in the mud instead of being repeatedly petted.
And the paper used in the drawings, paintings, photographs, books and signs that inspired visitors would not have been possible without trees once needing nutrients from soft, wet earth.
The tractor pulls needed clay to conduct their competitions.
The potter at the Village of Yesteryear created beautiful pieces from a similar substance.
And even petitioners endorsing smokers' rights could not huff and puff were it not for the tobacco plants grown in fertile, moist soil.
Of course, the mud also was responsible for the 175 cars that had to be towed out of the parking lots that weekend.
Our front-wheel-drive sedan was almost one of them.
I asked Deborah Ellison, a state fair spokeswomen, about the mud.
At first she groaned, no doubt recalling the hassles, headaches and maybe even a few heartaches it created for vendors and visitors on opening weekend.
Then, like me, she started to see things differently. She started to see the mud.
She likened the mud and the fair to the agriculture industry that was featured again at this year's event.
It all begins with mud, she pointed out.
The 127th North Carolina State Fair comes to a close today.
Several times this week I thought about washing the dried mud off my car's wheels, doors and hood. But I didn't.
The mud has become a prized souvenir of my first state fair, reminding me of all the good that has come of it. by CNB