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2003-08-01 - 7:41 a.m. The Ulster County Fair, which is on this weekend, was one of the summer highlights of my youth. We (meaning my two brothers, myself and a gaggle of assorted friends and relations) would pile into my Dad's van for the drive to the fair grounds. Although it actually wasn't far from the bungalow colony we summered at, it seemed endless due to the combination of pent up excitement and the comic commotion that went with any ride in the van. The Van. There were actually several vans that were used essentially to haul laundry to and from the ships (my dad's job when he had to retire from FDNY) therefore the interiors were completely gutted to make more room for the giant sacks of sheets and towels. Since there was no fixed seating left, on trips we would bring our own. Meaning that each child was perched on a folding chair, beach chair, or sometimes a picnic bench. Inevitably one or more of us would fall over when we hit a bump, made a sharp turn, drove up or down a hill. Clearly safety wasn't a concern to parents in those days since no one seemed even slightly reluctant to let us do this. Not even when my father would leave the side door open, "to give us a breeze." In any case, we always managed to get to the fair alive and reasonably well - any injuries en route were blunted by the surge of adrenaline at the spotting of the rides and the promise of a sugar high that lurked in every stall selling cotton candy and carmel apples. We chomped at the bit to be let loose... But first, my father always insisted, we had to go through the 4H stalls. Every last one. We passed countless identical cows, stinky pens of pigs (and the pig calling contest, Sooo-Eeeee) and other anything-but-exotic farm fare. I think part of his reasoning was that my Dad just really enjoyed seeing the livestock, but now that I'm older I think that his ulterior motive was that it killed another couple hours. Otherwise we probably would have ripped through the rides and games in two hours flat and then would be whining that we were bored. B has already threatened to force me to go through the 4H shows but being there feeling so nostalgic that if I did, I might just wind up sobbing over some sow. Drink of the Weekend: Cheap beer and/or sweet wine - the fairground specialties! � 
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