Night at the fair recalls fond memories, creates more

When I was a teenager, my dad and I went to the Arizona State Fair together, starting an annual tradition that would last into my early 30s when he died of cancer. Dad’s motto at the fair: “If it moves, ride it; if it’s on a stick, eat it.”

Back then they weren’t serving the stuff they’re serving on sticks now. Even Dad would have blanched at smoked lizard-on-a-stick, alligator-on-a-stick and deep-fried battered bacon-on-a-stick topped with gravy.

We ate corn dogs, egg rolls, fried zucchini and ice cream dipped in chocolate off sticks. When I wanted a big dill pickle, but it wasn’t on a stick, Dad sweettalked the lady into skewering one.

Those trips to the State Fair with my dad are among my favorite memories of him. I realized I’d never taken my own son, 10-year-old Sawyer, to the fair.

“This is really amazing, Mom, really amazing,” Sawyer kept saying as we walked the midway. I told him that his grandpa used to say, “It’s more fun than you can shake a pickle-on-a-stick at.”

The smell is incredible, a mix of frying oil, barbecue, waffle cones and, when you get close to the barns, manure. We petted sheep and ran from a llama that was prepping to spit at us. In the exhibit hall, we tried on cheap sunglasses and sampled fudge.

We tried one item that combines three of my favorite things: bacon dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with salt for $5.50 a carton. Sawyer paid $4 for a chocolate-dipped scorpion. He hesitated at first, but with a crowd gathering and me taking pictures, he finally took a (small) bite, taking off its head before tossing the rest away.

“To tell you the truth,” he said later, “it wasn’t that bad.”

Before we left, we rode the Skyride from one end of the fairgrounds to the other, watching the people below, just like I used to end the night with my dad.

“This is really great!” Sawyer said, swinging his feet. He grinned at me and added, “More fun than you can shake a pickle-on-a-stick at.”