My Fair Mom

The Sonoma County Fair is in full swing, and I have yet to pay a visit. Since it really doesn't change much from year to year, I am not sure whether I will attend or not.

Many in my family like to hit the track to place a few bets and, hopefully, come away with a win or two.

So not my thing...though there does seem to be horse racing gene lurking somewhere in the family bloodline. I just did not inherit it. My mother and father, however, apparently did.


Evidence of this is "I Don't", the racehorse my father invested in many years ago. When this lively filly raced at the Sonoma County Fair in the 60s, my mother was in her element. Not content to just regally lounge in the box seats my father purchased for the season, she took the adventure to a new level.

Using her owner's pass and dressed in riding gear, she headed down to the stables in the morning's early hours to hang out with the horse people, hoping - of course - to get some hot tips for the day's races.

Picture it. Her garb was pressed and spotless as she casually sauntered among the rough and tough track types, dodging horse shit and tobacco wads while looking like a rose in a brier patch as she hung on the rails trying to chat up the busy trainers.

I wasn't there so I don't know if she ever got any good leads on which to place her $$$. All I know for sure is that our sweet "I Don't" never did. What a lousy name for a race horse!

So...there you have it: fond fair memories, only slightly better than the arcade goldfish that I lovingly brought home.

But, thinking back on those long-ago fair days, I think Mom, just trying to be one of the guys,  must have had more fun at the fair than all of my family put together.

The goldfish always died anyway.