It’s Fair Week in Hardin County, Tennessee! Just like it is or has been or will be in the near future for many counties around the south. And maybe the north. I’m just not sure how many of our southern traditions they embrace. There’ll be all the fair food, including but certainly not limited to cotton candy, nachos and cheese, funnel cakes, corn dogs, fried Oreos or pickles, and the ever popular frozen banana dipped in chocolate—you name it and if it’s bad for your cholesterol and/or waistline, it’s probably available. And that’s just from the fair folks. Eureka Methodist Church and our local Masonic members have their own buildings from which they serve all kinds of yumminess. There are also the traditional sketchy fair rides, the games that draw children in like giant magnets . . . and The Exhibit Building. I used to go to the fair every year, just to walk through that building, to revel in all the things that made the agricultural fair what it was.
Please notice the word “was”. Where we once found pumpkins so large the kids could hide behind them, now they’re pretty much standard jack-o-lantern sized. The flowers are still pretty and the artwork still interesting, on occasion featuring some amazing talent. But when it comes to baking? And canning? And jam and jelly making? The entries are often slim to none and I wonder, is it because those skills are slowly vanishing from society because the folks who practiced them are gone?
Years ago, it was quite the competition among those kitchen wizards who could take simple ingredients and turn them into culinary delights, southern style. Cornbread and cookies and cakes and jellies and jams and all sorts of goodies, created by people who canned and cooked and baked and did all the other things that kept a household functional and fed, sometimes while working a full-time job. There was one in particular whose offerings almost always won the blue ribbon. If she entered a category, the question wasn’t who would win, but who would come in second. I always admired her skills and kinda wanted to be her when I grew up. Not necessarily the award-winning part (although that would be nice), but the part that took such pride in making something delicious and knowing it was done from scratch and with love.
But it’s easier in these hectic times to troll the grocery aisles and pick up a jar of jelly or jam, to buy a cake at the bakery or cookies in a package. And I am absolutely not saying there is anything wrong with that. I’ve done all of them and a lot more myself. What I am saying is the old ways are fading into the past and if we aren’t careful, the day will come when they’re gone completely, just like the people who practiced them.
So, we’ll go to the fair this week. And we’ll eat Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches at the Masonic booth and then go on a fried pie hunt. We’ll wander the midway, steer clear of the games as best we can (but we will have a six-year-old in tow), and trust that the rides are safe while holding our breaths. And I’ll roam about the Exhibit Building, looking at what little remains of the past, and wishing there were things from my younger days that never had to change.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
