country pumpkin
This is a sketch of Robin, tailored to her approximate size in the womb. We had it done at the Oregon Country Fair, a weekend-long hippie family funfest that takes place every summer in the woods outside Eugene. Gaze at my beautiful bride’s belly, and then read on for my rookie impressions of the Fair.
The first Oregon Country Fair started in 1969 as a benefit for a local, um, alternative school.
Indicentally, the following year, Governor Tom McCall approved an anything-goes rock festival to lure potential protesters away from politically-charged visits by the likes of Nixon. Shrewd, yes? McCall was a visionary Republican who cared about the consequences of his actions. They don’t make ‘em like that any more.
Anyway, back to our fair, the Country Fair. The tiny berg of Veneta has a permanent network of footpaths and wooden structures nestled back in the woods. In mid-summer, vendors hawk everything from handmade drums to Thai coconut ice cream. The trails fill with excited, sunburned, giggling families. Drag queens and jugglers parade past inventors trying to generate electricity from compost.
My fellow Texans can get a good mental image of the festival by imagining Scarborough Faire, subtracting the pretentious faux-antique accents, and replacing most of the tunics and suits of armor with a pastiche of tie-dye, modern goth, or simply a loin cloth and a couple of strategic dabs of paint.
Yes, for those of you parents who have a strict timetable in mind for your children’s educations, be advised. They’re going to see the occasional mud-covered bare booby at the Fair. But that’s okay, because they’re also going to learn to share, collaborate, and build.
And that’s what it’s about. Creativity. Collaboration. Building. Bellies.