Good, down-home fun survives at the Celebration

When I go to the Celebration's Trade Fair in the Calsonic Arena, I always go prepared. I take my camera, my notepad -- and just enough money to buy one Diet Coke.

You see, I'm not real good at resisting temptation, at least not when it comes to jewelry, food and, well, stuff.

And there's loooooots of stuff at the trade fair. If you want to spend $5 or $50,000, you can do it there and be happy with your purchase. One of my lottery dreams includes a free-for-all on the mezzanine, where I can buy one of those amazing horse statues, the entire designer clothing booth (even though nothing would fit me) and enough plush toy horses to stuff a mattress. And all that glittery gold .... Sigh.

But the reason I love going is not just the wonderful Aladdin's cave of horse stuff -- I love the vendors. There is a wide variety of folks from all over the country and if they've got one thing on common besides being at the Celebration, it's the gift of gab. You'll stop, and being Southern and polite, you'll exchange a few words with them, and before you know it, you've got their product, they've got your money, and you're all getting together afterwards for dinner and drinks ...

There are photographers and masseuses, feed distributors and porch swing experts. About the only thing I didn't see was a booth saying "I (Heart) USDA."

The atmosphere on the grounds, when it isn't tarnished by government-inspired gloom and doom, wanders between carnival and family reunion. The fellers down at the Spencer Benedict Farms row are cranking up the karaoke while the Dericksons set out a buffet table. The Bobos call greetings across the crowd (Well, Connie and Chris do. Bill might nod or something) and kids of all ages are everywhere, riding their ponies between the barns, lounging on the lawn on Celebration plaza, or flirting by the DAV food booth. High school students hawk popcorn and peanuts in the stands and worn out old overweight reporters sit on benches and fan themselves and miss Chip Walters, who used to play chauffeur to worn out old overweight reporters.

It never fails that when I sit down with some of the DAV's french fries (which explains the overweight issue), two older gentlemen join me, waiting for their wives, and proceed to gossip about trainers, owners and horses. In fact, I think every year, it has been the same two men, and they almost always pick the next class's winner. (Not so this year -- their choice for the Aged Stallions class was Weekend Warrior and he didn't make it in.) If you head down to the shoe shine booth, you can get teased a little bit, flattered a lot, and a really shiny pair of boots or shoes -- and another dose of gossip.

If you sit there long enough, even if you're not a "horse person," you are going to see someone you know. I ran into someone I went to school with -- 30 years ago. It was kind of embarrassing. I'd just taken her picture and was writing down her name when she gently repeated it, using her maiden name. Oh, yeah. You. Ooops.

I love the Celebration, and I hate that a tiny percentage can ruin it for the vast majority. Overzealous and inconsistent inspectors, trainers and owners who would rather buy, bribe or brutalize their way to a title, as well as those who condemn an entire industry for the actions of a very few -- all of the cheaters and haters and abusers out there -- I wish you would take a day off of your high horse and wander the grounds and meet the real people, the real horses, the real fans -- and see how much fun it can really be.

-- Mary Reeves is a Times-Gazette staff writer. She can be reached at mreeves@t-g.com.