EDUCATIONALLY SPEAKING -- Gay Geiser-Sandoval

I’ve been going to the Orange County Fair since I was 3 months old,

but I never got to drive my own car around inside the fairgrounds until

this month. My younger daughter entered her Kahlua truffles into

competition, and I delivered the finished product. As luck would have it,

she was the division winner, upholding the family tradition of taking

home the prize.

In the late 1940s, my father decided that he wanted a ranch and came

to Buena Park to complete his mission. A ranch needs a cow, so my older

sister got one and was part of the Future Farmers of America as their

sweetheart -- girls couldn’t be future farmers in those days. Her first

cow, Nancy, followed her around like a well-behaved dog, so she took

sweepstakes in the showmanship division on her first try.

By the time I was born, we had a small collection of cows that all

loved to go to the fair. No cow wanted to be left behind, whether it was

her turn to be shown or not. So, my family had to get special permission

to take the extras along so they wouldn’t break out of their pen at home

and try to get to the fair on their own. There were some wild nights when

the family came back from the fair all the way out in Costa Mesa to

search for the cows that were on their own “incredible journey” to the

fair.

They knew it was fair time because the family was engaged in preening

the cows, which consisted of shampooing them, brushing their coats,

braiding their tails, shining up the udder and sanding and waxing their

horns and hooves. One time, my grandma put too much bluing in the rinse

water and the cows were blue for a few days.

There weren’t many city folks in Orange County in those days, but

those who came to the fair had a fair degree of misconceptions about

cows. They thought bovines with horns were automatically bulls. So, when

I was placed on some big, horned heifers to take a nap as a toddler,

someone would shout in terror that I was about to be killed by the bulls.

Even the bull we had was nice to me. Only the sheep and the parrot

picked me for their terrorist tactics. Buttons, the sheep, was more or

less quiet about her evil ways, but the parrot would roar with laughter

every time she trapped me. Neither of them got to go to the fair.

When I was 3, I was too young to show my cow myself, but Gay Ann (I

named her after me) won a blue ribbon with my sister’s help. When I got

older, I won blue ribbons for my sewing entries and my newspaper stories

about our 4-H club. Each year, we would show off our guide dog in

training at the fair. I don’t remember the fair being too big then. It

was mainly a compilation of homemade or home-grown items that were there

for the neighbors to admire.

If you had livestock, you could sleep next to them in the stalls. One

week of the fair was for the Future Farmers of America kids’ livestock,

and the next week was for 4-H. The food booths were mainly local

fund-raisers. I remember when our 4-H group sold corn on the cob for a

dime. People complained that it was a lot of money for an ear of corn,

but we reminded them it was a fund-raiser for the club. Now, corn is

about $2.75 each.

My sister, who used to have a chocolate shop, came over to advise my

daughter as to the intricacies of truffles on the night before the

entries were due. As she and my mom were recounting the excitement of

getting the cows ready and transported to the fair, I was sure glad my

daughter had picked truffles to enter instead. They got to the fair with

nary a moo.

* GAY GEISER-SANDOVAL is a Costa Mesa resident. Her column runs

Tuesdays. She may be reached by e-mail at o7 GGSesq1@aol.comf7 .