I’m writing from the Pope County Fair.

My kids are with me. My parents are on their way. My wife, on the other hand, is at home, mowing the yard.

Mal loves to mow (a fact that often confuses our neighbors), but she hates the fair. She hates the rides. Doesn’t trust them, despite the highly trained professionals pushing the buttons and pulling the levers. She hates the food. Mal is a health nut. She’s also cheap. Ten bucks for a corndog? Not on my wife’s watch.

Mal doesn’t like germs, either. She’s a pediatric nurse practitioner. Her daily life is inundated with snotty noses, rasping coughs, and every other illness known to man.

Kids are coughing everywhere at the Pope County Fair. It’s that time of year. Back to school always kicks off sick season, but the bubonic plague couldn’t keep the rest of the Cranors at home.

My love of the fair started with my parents.

As far back as I can remember, we went to the fair. Every fall. Even when I was quarterbacking on Friday nights, we still made it to the fairgrounds (which, twenty years later, feature nearly all the same rides in nearly all the same places).

When I was in middle school, I threw three darts, popped two balloons, and won a framed picture of a blonde woman in a blue bikini. As much as my mother loved the fair, she didn’t like that picture, or the fact that I insisted on hanging it up in my room.

My mother’s love of the fair started with her father, a man I knew as “Poppy.” According to Mom, Poppy rode the rides with her. He bought her cotton candy and as many ice-cold Cokes as she could stomach.

My dad comes to the fair for the people. He loves to watch the carneys. I do too. The dude working the “Tidalwave” is a hoot. With his long gray hair slicked back behind his ears and the neck of his shirt stretched way down low, this carnival worker might soon become a character in one of my books.

While we’re waiting in line, I snap a quick picture of him. Later that night, as I’m scrolling through my fair photos, I’m surprised to find that I hadn’t been as sneaky as I’d thought. The carny with the long hair is smiling for the camera, grinning ear to ear as the Tidalwave does loop-de-loops behind him.

When I show my wife the picture, she says, “Oh, heck no...” and my children laugh, revealing teeth coated with sugar, fingernails caked with dirt, and hearts filled with fresh memories from the Pope County Fair.