Country Fairs, Girlie Shows and Moving Onward

Bob and I had an early-bird dinner with my folks tonight.  It was an upbeat, easy supper for us all.  I assured Dad that I was eager to get started on our next post.  Alongside two pages of handwritten notes given to me several days ago, I've had this next storyline rumbling around my brain.  You see, in the grand scheme of things Chelsea was a fairly short stint, and the growing Hazlett clan was about to shift to southern Vermont valleys.  Dad was hoping to earn a few more dollars AND take on a department head role if in fact the stars might align.

A long ago, often-told tale had me wondering....was Dad really looking for his next professional move, or had a small-town country fair forced his hand?

Perhaps (chuckle) their move to the next tucked-away village had something to do with one of Dad's trips to a celebrated local fair.  Over the years, my dad spoke often about the World's Fair which took place each fall in the neighboring town of Tunbridge.  It was a big event, especially fun for the locals as the quiet hum of the Chelsea hills energized a bit when the fair rolled into town.  It should be noted, however, that though this fair was typical in the way of kiddie rides, ring tosses, fried dough, fiddle playing, agricultural blue ribbons, hog races and tractor pulls, Mom quickly added that it was notorious for being the place where the "drunks were chained together to keep them safe".  One stop shopping in hill country.

Dad remembers that the teachers were always asked to volunteer their time at the fair to help out with admission, parking, concessions and the like.  One time, (pre-Judy as Dad recalls...), the teachers had some extra time on their hands so Dad stepped into the "girlie show".  One can only imagine the colorful array of entertainers that graced the dirt floor stage.

Upon exiting the award-winning show, Dad was spotted by a pretty sizable group of his students.  Head down, feet moving, this teacher sighting was never once mentioned.  That said, I suspect those kids had, at minimum, a collective eyebrow raising, and at best a group high five for their beloved history teacher as only a group of adolescent boys might do.

A short time later, two Irish twins in tow, my parents pointed their station wagon south.  I'm not sure that they ever returned to the Tunbridge Fair, nor do I think there was a second girlie-show, but Dad surely remembers his time in Chelsea as some of the best years of his life.  He speaks fondly of the friends they met, and the memories made.  Life carried on, but to this day Chelsea remains deeply embedded in his heart.

Tales of teaching in Bellows Falls, traveling for a year under a Ford Grant, learning about non-graded educational systems, and settling at last into the village of Saxton's River where a family would be raised, are coming real soon...