A More Cheerful Note?

Village fairs have an other worldly quality that is a distraction from its purpose, at least for me. In my village, West Barnstable, Massachusetts, we seem to live in the Twilght Zone. Each year the event is a mirror image of last year's event. The booths, the people, the food, the prizes, the awards, the speeches, are the same in most respects. I purchase six for five dollar raffle tickes. I eat an overcooked hamburger. I purchase a brownie in the library. I meet the very same people and have almost the same conversation. I have a sense of my being almost invisible except for the slight variations mentioned. Am I complaining? No. Am I certain that I attended this year's festival? No. That's what worries me.