On the ground behind the scenes at the fair
Being in a relationship with someone who has a job that has unpredictable circumstances, customers who call at all hours, sometimes being present during long hours in conditions that are a little less than savoury (or where you would choose to be) is part of the game as well. You could say that a good part of the Townships was built on these relationships, and continues to be to this day.
I was raised in a family of electricians, so I guess it’s hardwired into the normal beat of life to know that calls do come in at all hours, that emergencies aren’t planned, and that to provide good services means that when possible, you go, and when you can’t you send someone, and when you can’t do that, you recommend or you schedule a visit as soon as possible.
We tend to not think of people in the repair business until we need them. And then, often we need them right away.
On the weekend my significant other wondered how long it had been that his family business, Knowlton’s Plomberie Bessette et Fils, had been doing the plumbing for Brome Fair. He suspects that it is likely for the entirety of the seventy years of the business’s existence, starting with his grandfather, Lionel Bessette in 1947, and continuing on with his father Claude and uncle Réal (who now owns his own plumbing business) and for the last twelve years Stéphane has been at the helm, although he was pretty much born with a pipe wrench in his hand, and plumbing has been his sole career.
Their vans are parked by the show barn for the weekend, with Labour Day Monday on call. He wears a CB clipped to his shirt collar, but doesn’t just pay attention to his own role. Those who do maintenance are something of a band of brothers for the weekend – and when something is off they tend to cluster together to find solutions, run around the site looking for the origins of problems – somewhat hiding in plain sight until there is a malfunction that impacts the crowd more significantly.
While I love our Townships Fairs, there isn’t a pressing need to attend. That doesn’t mean I love them less, I simply design my attendance to suit the circumstances of the year at hand. Some years I attend seated in the work van, occasionally prowling the site, some years we have had small people to manage (and pay for) and sometimes that means it will be easier for me to stick around home with them, or take them somewhere for the weekend instead.
This year Labour Day weekend was one without children at home, all on their weekends enjoying time with their other parents. I was as free as a bird, and it felt great. Our homes were overwhelmed with end-of-summer-back-toschool stuff, in desperate need of that seasonal top-to-bottom clean-up, as well as a bathroom re-vamp. I had plenty to keep myself busy.
I started laying out the weekend in my mind – how it would play out, what I could do. Go with him for part of the weekend...houseclean for part of the weekend...take myself out for breakfast one day...maybe read for a while...do homework...clean some more...
Then, in spite of an incredibly busy work-week, he organized a date night for Friday evening. We went out to one of our favourite spots (Chez Moi, Chez Toi – Knowlton’s tremendously popular eatery, specializing in Indian food). We were both famished and delighted in our meal. We sat in a different booth than usual. We visited, laughed and spoke with our friends who own and run the place.
The next morning I opted to attend with him. Just being together, even if we wouldn’t be doing much of anything, would be fun. The warm, sunny day set attendance records for certain, overwhelming various installations and requiring major repairs, and when the power went down in one section, all of the toilets stopped flushing.
Several stressful hours later (for all involved in organizing), resourcefulness (and a visit from Hydro) got things back online. And although the toilets had stopped flushing, in the time between the realization that a fuse had popped atop a transformer and the time it took to close access to the bathrooms in that section, people kept using them.
A fast and strong worker, he swiftly plunged all of them, testing to be sure everything was working as it should, and allowing the throngs of attendees hotstitched to get to the loo to revert some of the traffic to those central washrooms, and away from the extra port-apotties on the fringes here and there on the site.
As we got ready to leave at the end of his 12-hour shift, we stopped by one of the cow barns to say hello to friends. Mid-conversation there was a pop, and out went all of the lights. For a few more hours he and the maintenance crew and electricians worked again to right the problems.
On Sunday morning, he didn’t expect me to attend, but I knew that while he wouldn’t ask for my company, he hoped for it. Appreciative of his long-standing contract with the Fair, he is always proud to provide services, investing in new uniforms just prior to the Fair every year to also ensure looking their best. I knew the time would be long though, with a rather sad forecast on the horizon. I got up and ready to go. “You’re coming with me?!” he said. “For the whole day?!”
I was. Maybe the date night was part of what sparked it. He had taken the time to arrange a special night in the midst of a very busy time, the least I could do was take time to be present with him and keep him company during his annual long weekend, to enjoy the time people-watching, to admire entries and animals and the tremendously hard work of our farming community. I just knew that I wanted to be with him. Present.
A large part of that kind of relationship can be witnessed at our Fairs, and Richmond Fair will offer up some of the same next weekend. Hard work and dedication, celebration and ritual, and part of it just being together, not always comfortable, but finding the best, in the unpredictability and flow of it all.