It's fair week, so naturally the weather has turned from drought to cloudburst. It happens every year, usually even before the trucks roll in carrying the rides. People will make do, though; they're used to it. They'll go into the quilt display or the horse barn or peek into the cages containing the topknot chickens, or pet the silky goats or the sandpaper-rough pigs. Or they'll slip into the community building and take a chance on a swimming pool or air conditioning system, and make some sand art. And sooner or later the rain will stop and the fair will continue. It only comes once a year, so there's no choice, really; either get wet or miss the whole thing.
Most of the famous people I've met were at the fair. I have a picture of me and Bobby Bare that still makes hubby a little jealous. Bobby was one of my favorite entertainers, because (1) he showed up, (2) he remembered what town he was in, and (3) he was sober. You can't say that about every singer at a fair in a small town.
If I made a list of all the celebrities I've met, it wouldn't be too long, but I'm happy with it. Ted Kennedy, once, when he was campaigning for one of our senators; David Selby, Quentin from Dark Shadows, when he portrayed Lincoln at the local university, George Jones, Hank Williams Jr. and the Statler Brothers, and once in a clothing store in Providence, R.I., I stood in the checkout next to a guy who looked exactly like Bill Clinton. It probably wasn't, but I swear, he had the charisma.
A boy in my high school class, Chris Murney, became an actor. I've seen him on several television shows, and lately he's been doing voice-overs for cartoon characters.
A couple of bloggers I read are writers, and someday I'll be able to say I knew them when. I'm looking forward to that. But I think Bobby Bare will always be my favorite.
A little blogthievery: I read in someone else's blog that a library card signed by Elvis is going up for auction this month. It was discovered in the library of his Tupelo high school where at the age of 14 he'd checked out a book on Andrew Jackson. The current bid is $2400, but they expect it to go to at least $4,000. I wonder if my old library card is still in R.I., and if it'll ever be famous.
Do you know they now have Red Velvet pancakes at IHOP? Could anything be yummier?
Oh yeah, what marketing genius put my name on the Victoria's Secret mailing list? A little error in judgment there.
Where can I get some of those adorable goggles the swimmers are wearing in the Olympics? And wasn't Michael Phelps fabulous? And the beach volleyball ladies, Keri and Misty May? Hubby and I enjoyed them so much. This was their third Olympics and probably the last, though, doggone it.
I had a "moment" last week when I was playing my Edith Piaf tape, which no one ever comments on here in Almost Heaven, and suddenly a woman perked up, and said, "That's Edith Piaf, isn't it? I love her!" When she comes in next time, I will definitely give it to her, and make myself another copy.
Lewis Grizzard couldn't be any more politically incorrect (his picture is next to that phrase in the dictionary), but that was part of his charm. And his 1996 book, Southern By the Grace of God, a collection of his columns, is full of fried green tomatoes, grits, first cousins, guys named Bubba (who are doctors, lawyers, and executives, surprisingly), Willie Nelson, and the correct pronunciation of "y'all" will keep you laughing all the way through. By the way, having lived in West Virginia for years, I can tell you the word is not "y'all" at all. It's "yunz". As in, are yunz goin' to the fair tonight and get some of them deep-fried Twinkies? I heard they was real good.
See you next week!
8 hours ago