Their collective look was one of shock, borderline disappointment. I thought I broke the news to the Tyler family quite gently: I’d never been to a rural fair before; never experienced such a festival, a grand celebration of a lifestyle that, with my “city boy” background, I’d never lived.
The family spun around simultaneously, a bit offended, shooting me a look that screamed, “Did you really just say that?” At the moment, I didn’t realize the scope of my admission.
But after just one rainy afternoon at the Harford Fair, it’s easy now to see why the annual gala in this tiny town lasts six full days and nights, draws fans from all around America — and is so beloved by so many Susquehanna County residents.
From the hay bale tossing contest to the “garbologists” (more on that later), the 150th annual Harford Fair, which runs through Saturday, is filled with exciting displays, thousands of adorable farm animals, popular music acts, carnival rides (some of which could use a dab of grease), friendly competitions, and (of course) delectable country-style food.
The best part, though, had to be the people. It’s no exaggeration to say that the town of Harford is practically one big family. As native 12-year-old Andrew Tyler told me: “Harford is — small.” (Drew estimated a population of “500 or less”; the 2000 U.S. census estimated 1,301.)
Then, the boy’s eyes lit up. “It has its own post office” ... which he described as “the second smallest in the country.” He also pointed out that “there’s a celebrity who lives in Harford!”
Really? Who?
The gregarious young’un shrugged. “I don’t know.”
At the start of Monday’s Old-Time Competitive Games at 1 p.m. — which initially compelled me and two co-workers to attend — I befriended the peppy 12-year-old, who said he lives “right down the road” from the fairgrounds.
As the afternoon drew on, the three rows in front of us in Section F filled with members of the Tyler family, as we cheered on Aunt Peggy and Step-Grandma Dorothy in the skillet-tossing competition, and watched Drew’s dad drive by in a tractor. “We know almost everybody here,” said Drew. “I have 25 cousins — 12 real cousins, and 13 step-cousins. My Dad has 27 real cousins.”
It was sometime between the skillet finals and the ensuing greasy pole-climbing competition — won by 12-year-old Jessica Calderone of Endwell, the only girl entered — that I broke the shocking news to the Tyler clan.
Within seconds, Drew listed off his favorite eight or nine attractions of the six-day fair — surely, we couldn’t miss Friday night’s rodeo, the queen competition, the fair’s signature cake that feeds 1,000 people, or what he called the “Hot Wingy on a Pretzel.”
So after watching Drew attempt to scale that towering greasy pole — “I’ve climbed a pole before, just never greased,” he said — we headed over to the pretzel stand, where I tried my first pretzel sandwich: a surreally tender, spicy chicken breast smothered in bleu cheese dressing sauce, enveloped by a fresh, squishy pretzel. (It was amazing.)
By now, the ominous cloud covering had pried itself open, unleashing a steady rain that one might expect to dampen equipment and moods alike. Not the case.
We braved the drizzly environment to find people even more hospitable than before — like the garbologists.
Darryl Goff, 17, was making the rounds Monday afternoon emptying out the dozens of trash cans scattered around the fairgrounds. One of 14 volunteers on the crew, Goff proudly introduced himself as a third-year garbologist, as if quickly approaching graduation from a faux school of hard knocks.
Then there was Jacob Hottle, 11, who posed for a photo with his (yes, his) two pigs, Scooby-Doo and Shaggy. Tim and Christina Button, proprietors of the Button Valley Co. in New Milford, dressed in convincing contemporary outfits, displaying handmade soap and forging cast iron in an open oven. Even Smokey the Bear strolled by, shaking hands in a makeshift parade that seemed to materialize from nowhere.
For everything we checked out in our rainy several-hour stay, there were plenty of other fun things we missed out on, making a return trip this weekend a distinct possibility — if only for another “Hot Wingy on a Pretzel.”
And this time, I won’t have to break that same bad news.
Strub is a senior at Binghamton University, a part-time copy editor at the Press & Sun-Bulletin and a new resident of Binghamton’s West Side. His column appears Thursdays.
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