In honor of Fair Week, here's a sneak preview of York Sunday News columnist Gordon Freireich's column, slated for print publication Sept. 7.
"My brother would take one dollar and rush to be one of the first ones inside when the gates opened," a woman reminisced to me recently about the York Fair. She grew up near the fairgrounds and "my mother would take his lunch to him in a paper bag and throw it over the fence to him at noon," she chuckled.
Everyone who grew up in York has his or her personal memories of the York Fair, which runs through this week.
As a very young child, I recall my mother was in the old West Side Hospital and her room overlooked the neighboring York Fair. "Wow. Too bad she couldn't be here during the fair," I remember selfishly thinking to myself. In my child's mind's eye, "I could hop out her window, clear the fence and be on the fairgrounds." Since my mother was in the hospital with a kidney stone attack -- as she told me many years later -- she was not about ready to repeat the episode for my "free fair" fantasy benefit.
When we were old enough, we could walk from our home in the south end of York city all the way to the west end to attend the fair. With anticipation whisking us along, it didn't seem like a very long walk at all, although it was probably about a mile and a half.