It has been a year since Helene. The storm came up from the gulf and stalled over western North Carolina. It rained and the wind blew, harder than any of us expected. In our county, it was mostly a generational windstorm that snapped trees and downed power lines, but further west it was a biblical rainstorm, washing away life and mountainsides. We were without power for seven days, which is not a long time unless you’re a modern American without power, at which point it feels like seven years.
One place in the county that did not lose power, or at least regained it quickly, was the Cleveland County Fair, which was ongoing at the time. While the countryside looked apocalyptic, people somehow navigated obstructed roadways and went to the fair, lots and lots of people. Having lived here now for nearly fifteen years, I believe going to the fair in late September is an innate migratory instinct for longtime residents of the county.
The Cleveland County Fair is the largest county fair in North Carolina. It has been since its inception in 1924. I won’t bore you with the details of its illustrious history, but it is not a rinky dink carnival in a parking lot. It is a proper agricultural fair, with livestock shows and blue-ribbon pumpkins, with vinegar fries and funnel cakes and roasted corn and endless avenues of transportable and purportedly safe thrill rides–and pig races, my favorite part. It is, in short, just the place you want to be when the world around you is falling down, literally or figuratively.
Last year, we didn’t know quite how badly the world had fallen down, or washed down the mountain. With the power out and roads impassable, reports of the cataclysmic damage further west were slow to reach us, so people did what they had been doing for generations and went to the fair, almost as an act of defiance against Mother Nature. Also, since the power was out everywhere else in the county, there was nothing better to do.
In a matter of days, our fairgrounds as well as other fairgrounds across western North Carolina would transform into staging grounds for volunteers and supplies, as the reality of the devastation came to light. There was something better to do, and the outpouring of community support that descended on our region was truly remarkable. For many, the recovery is still ongoing; for others, what was lost will never truly be recovered.
A year later, the Cleveland County Fair is back again for its 101st year. I am happy to report that residents are once again flocking to the fairgrounds on their annual migration. No matter how foul the weather is, over us or the nation or the world itself, it’s comforting to have a fair. Here’s hoping you have a fair in your neck of the woods.
Humans are indeed resilient – if they’ve not been washed down a hillside! And your sense of humor shines through. We don’t seem to have pig races, in the northeast, or at least I’ve never seen one. But I can imagine – how does one convince a pig to race? Stay on course??
That is part of the fun–many of the pigs don’t stay on course, so it is mostly just controlled chaos, but usually there is some sort food at the end to entice them.
“There was something better to do”! What a wonderful and beautiful line of recognition of the spirit of people. While devastation and suffering are never desired in this life, we know they will happen. And I like to do as Mr. Rogers’ mama suggested–look for the good–and find something better to do.
Mr. Rogers was a national treasure, and it just amazes me the outpouring after Helene. We had our powered turned back on by linemen all the way from Canada. Look for the good is good advice.
I wish we had a fair in my neck of the woods! 🙂
Yeah, some places they have gone by wayside, if they ever had them. But if you’re ever in Cleveland County in late September, be sure to go to the fair
101 years, that’s a great milestone. We have agricultural fairs, or ‘shows’ as they’re called here in Oz, which was a novelty to me 23 years ago when I came here from the other side of the world. Some of them are also the real deal, with animals, farm machinery and sundry rustic pursuits.
Seven days without power sounds plenty long enough. I mean, on holiday it would just be a camping trip. At home, with the food in the freezer going off, it’d be … not good. The neighbours would probably start hunting in packs. And no Netflix …
There were definitely neighbors roaming in packs, mostly to figure out which gas stations had gas. All the gas stations were out. There was definitely a dystopian feel for a few days, which was, no doubt, exacerbated by no Netflix, lol
We have a reasonably popular fair in our county, and I’m glad that I still see signs in local businesses touting their support for local 4-H kids, and although we don’t rergularly attend, I retain many fond memories of working at the Donut Hut when I was a teenager, buying milkshakes from the 4-H dairy booth, and munching on fried cheese and corn dogs. Thanks for bringing back some happy memories.
Can’t go wrong with fried cheese!