Oregon Country Fair

This was my main college application essay.I've been thinking about fair a lot lately. I hope I can still go this year, but it's looking grim.

My mother got more than she wasexpecting when she tried to coax us out into the tempest of productivity that we were sleeping through. I yelled through the zippered tent door “I’m sleeping!” and flopped ferociously on my inflatable mattress. It was the morning after my 14th Oregon Country Fair, and I discovered that I was not a graceful somnambulist. Even when I’m fully awake I’m always grumpy on the sad Monday when we pack up the stage, the camp, and all of the freedom and beauty that we can fit in our van. In one day, we take down weeks of work and months of anticipation, and stow it all away for next year. My yearly Fair ritual is a huge part of who I am, and who I want to be.

I first set up camp in mid-June. Up to the second weekend in July, 7,000 other idealists and I work to make the Fair everything that it is and more. The essence of the Fair is really difficult to capture. It’s in a forest, near a river, and it spends all of fall, winter and spring getting a little bit closer to both. In the summer, a community returns to dig it out of the forest again. They rebuild booths, drain parking lots, build gazebos, tame vegetation, and create a little paradise in the woods. Then artists descend and sell goods and food and whatever else people want to trade money for. Other artists perform on various stages. Some are jugglers, others are acrobats, many are musicians, and they’re all wonderful. Every adult contributes in their own way. I’m still young, and at the Fair, that means I have time to do whatever I want. It’s quite like the real world that way. I’ve spent my adolescence here figuring out
what I want to dedicate myself to as an adult. Just like in the real world, I’ve got too many
options.

First and foremost, I was born into Stage Left, where my mother designs the sets. Stage Left puts on a unique and original vaudeville show every year, and their set always matches them in eccentricity and style. I help build it and paint it, and this is why I start my Fair so early. We have plenty of people working on the set in June, and plenty of time to create it, so I fill the extra hours with another job. I help feed and hydrate the Fair at Main Camp. To the alternating beats of classic rock and funky reggae, I chop and scrub and compost in the hub of pre-Fair activity. There, I really feel the energy of the greater Fair world. The Vaudevillians are crazy and groovy and really perfect people to camp with. But it’s a different experience with the hardcore volunteers. Our actors come a few days before the Fair to throw together a show. The kitchen crew and carpenters come for weeks, adrenaline pushing them through long hours of hard work. One of the most beautiful things I’ve seen at the Fair is a man with dreadlocks violently frying tofu. His desperate pace and obvious exhaustion showed me a side of commitment that I had never seen.

Then the Fair arrives. Trucks of colorful folks rumble in and expand into tents and costumes and props and all sorts of festival paraphernalia. Another energy sweeps me up as I inevitably become an extra in the show. Vaudevillians minimize congestion backstage by moving anyone who’s sitting around onto the stage. We sing, we dance, and we make people laugh. We make the Fair. Weeks of preparation culminate in an experience that the volunteers share with about 20,000 visitors every day. Those three days are nonstop hedonistic frolicking. Even my dreams play at the Fair. Wandering is my favorite activity. The Fair is a great place to people watch, nature watch, or to just be lost in the rhythm of the
music and the crowds. My cousin once described it as “the only place I’ve seen adults truly happy.” I don’t know if I’d go that far, but it’s definitely a freer side of everyone. Now that the work is over and the stress behind them, the desperate tofu fryers and frazzled construction workers dance at the drum tower with everyone else. Volunteers appreciate what’s been made more than anyone, because they know how much effort it took.

Three days may seem short, but those are the clearest, longest, happiest days of my summer. Monday takedown comes too soon, but I’m also ready to get some sleep by then. After we’veleft, I hold onto my Fair mentality for as long as I can. At the Fair, we help each other, we talk to strangers, and we’re all an extended family. It’s so easy to be accepting there. The Fair brings out the best in me.

My weeks in the woods remind me of who I want to be. I want to be happy and energetic. I want to help people when they need it and gracefully admit that I need help once in a while too. I want to spend my time creating and working toward something that will benefit a greater population. Above all, I want to live exactly as myself, letting no fear or anxiety hold me back. The Fair is my practice arena, and it’s making me who I am.