Peace, Love, and Lutefisk: Adventures i Norge

Every year around this time, people of all walks of life (but mostly rural, middle class, white walks) take the religious-like journey to Parker to take part in one of South Dakota's great traditions: The Turner County Fair. The fair is a mix of agriculture, entertainment, food, family, political campaigning, photo taking, and good ole South Dakota fun. Personally, the Turner County Fair is a huge family reunion. Every year I walk to the old picnic table next to the chislic stand (chislic=cooked lamb on a stick). There at the table, my Grandpa Johnson holds court like the Don himself. All of the family on my mom's side comes so I get to see all the uncles and aunts and cousins, as well as family friends and other more distant relatives like the chislic owners themselves! It is a great chance to catch up and have some summer time fun. This year, like most years, started by throwing down as much chislic as possible. I took down 18 sticks before chasing them with a pork sandwich from the Lutheran Church food booth. While eating, we all do our best to sound knowledgable about agriculture. We talk about the drought or the flooding (it's never perfect you know) and the corn and the beans, and fortunately, Uncle Paul is kind enough not to make fun of my own lack of knowledge and to help me know what's going on at the family farm.

After a lot of great conversation, the young cousins finally drag us to the carnival area where we have close encounters with lots of scary looking Carnies and random rides and games. Although it seems like we do fewer and fewer rides each year, I had fun watching the cousins almost puke on the Octopus ride, and did my best to display my weak abilities at Ski-Ball and Ski-Ball Horse-Racing. Fortunately, I think that all of our hard earned play eventually helps one of the cousins to win a huge stuffed tiger, or something that resembles a wild cat of some kind.

After the games and Carnies, it's time to grab some homemade ice cream, made by the Mennonites. Always large because it goes down like applesauce. Usually the ice cream is half-way gone by the time we finally squeeze onto a wooden bench for the night's true activity: VFW bingo.

VFW bingo is an amazing experience. Wood benches surround a rectangular area where members of the local VFW (Veterans of Foreign Wars) stand around and collect 25 cents for each bingo card someone is playing. The head honcho VFW member is the caller, while the "younger" more "inexperienced" VFW members continue their training for the glorious day when they can be a caller. Everyone squeezes onto these benches in hopes of getting bingo and winning the 10 dollar prize! Of course, the Johnson clan takes up about 1/4th of the bench space and usually turns the relatively tame game of bingo into a competative sport that far exceeds the World Series of Poker. People are shouting "YESSSSS!" every time they hit a number and everyone gets really angry if someone finally screams "Bingo!" and forces the game to start over again.

This year the Johnson clan, (which can be subsequently split into sub-clans such as the Blues, the Browns, the Paul Johnsons, the Meyers, and even the honorary Thompsons), cleaned up at the bingo table. Elliot, Jennifer, and I all won Bingo rounds, bringing in 10 dollars each. I was especially lucky because I won bingo at the same time as two other people. Usually, they would split the prize among the winner, but the VFW old boys club thought that dividing 10 three ways was difficult, so they let us all get the full award. After the regular bingo rounds finally draw to a close, the VFW ends the night with a bang: blackout! This is the variant of bingo in which every number on the card must be called to win. It not only requires luck, but also stamina. This year Brian demonstrated those characteristics. He perservered through over 5 minutes of numbers to come out victorious with the the $50 prize. On top of the that, the VFW men either miscounted or thought that Brian really needed the money because he was handed four 20 dollar bills! Boo yeah! We left the bingo table very satisfied having supported our troops in the best way I know how.

The Turner County Fair is a great summertime tradition, and I am happy I was attend this year. It's so much fun! It's interesting that when I take photos or stop and look at the fair objectively, how absolutely strange it really is. It looks like something from a generation gone-by where people gather together, (for free), to take time to eat unhealthy food without feeling guilty, to walk around looking at animals and 4-H awards, to play bingo with at least 3 and probably 4 different generations, to ride ridiculous rides run by even more ridiculous people, to spend wads of cash to win simple prizes that represent hurculean efforts, and to just enjoy time together. Parker's city slogan is "A Great Place to Live," but I think that on the week of the fair it should be "A Great Place to Lose Yourself" because that's what we do, and it's great.