Every year, as autumn seems to creep up, I find myself back at the Topsfield Fair, like
clockwork. It’s a tradition I started without much thought, but now it’s the one I cherish the most.
There’s just something about traditions that I’ve always found very comforting. It didn’t
matter if it was from my family or one I’d heard celebrated worldwide. I like the idea that, as
humans, we all have such a high regard for familiarity and finding meaning behind simple days
or gatherings that we form it into an annual celebration.
Traditions can often start unconsciously, just like my annual trip to the Topsfield Fair:
What began as just another “cool” fall activity in middle school, like mindlessly attending football
games or prancing in sunflower fields, became something I look forward to every year.
As time passed, more and more people I knew would dwindle from the fair, though that
never mattered to me. Today, years and years later, I still look forward to my favorite fall ritual of
them all. Looking upon the fairgrounds as an escape from reality in which you could eat “dragon
breath” candy that you can’t find anywhere else, gaze upon this year’s fattest pig, or even stand
in line for half an hour to get on a ride that you inevitably won’t have enough tickets to get on
anyway.
That said, any inconvenience at the fair often turns into amusement on its own. My friend
once went on a ride with a guy in our grade that we all thought was beautiful. They sat beside
each other on the ride, and her buckle broke within minutes. Although she would’ve been
completely fine regardless, since there were several other safety measures in place, this guy held her
buckle together the entire ride to give her peace of mind.
We still tell this story relentlessly. Even now, that memory, like so many others from the
fair, feels woven into the fabric of this tradition, a small moment that has become part of its
lasting charm.
As I visit each year, I’m able to replenish the fading smell of fried foods, the sight of
buzzing families, and the sound of happy screams as friends alike face the first drop on the
“chainsaw.”
Maybe it’s the comfort of the familiar or the thrill of the unexpected. Either way, traditions
like the Topsfield Fair remind me that sometimes, the best moments in life are the ones I’m able
to return to and expand, year after year. Regardless of what you may take away, it’s a tradition
I’m likely not to miss, and I urge others to participate, at least once in their life.