Chinchilla Business

     In the course of this past week spent with my brothers and significant others on vacation in Getzville, New York and Arlington, Vermont, I have been told to be sure to include particular stories in the memory-a-day blog.

     There is the classic tale of the chinchillas at the Erie County Fair. Mom and Dad took us to the Erie County Fair every year. The fairgrounds were nearby in Hamburg – also the site of the Buffalo Raceway, although we never went to the horse races. The fair was held in August which was always hot – Dad would park in the parking lot, and as we got out of the car smelling the smells and hearing the noises of the fair, Mom would say, “Don't be asking for anything!” followed up with, “We are going to look at everything, and the midway will be last – but you will only go on the rides if you have not been whining about 'when are we going on the rides?'”

     I would think we were in for a boring day waiting to get to the midway. But ultimately, it was fun going past the tractor displays and the kitchen utensil demonstrations – really! The livestock tents were neat – all the different kinds of chickens there are – and all on display! The pigs, cows, sheep didn't look too different from other pigs, cows and sheep – but they were still neat to look at too. I did not much understand the blue ribbons that were awarded for pies and jams and such – the Ladies' Home Bureau area with the women there knitting or sewing and smiling – I was kind-of sure that would not be my thing when I grew up.

     One time, when I was about 8 we were on stools at one of the food concessions early in the day – so I don't know if we were just taking a break or actually getting some drinks, but a man was passing out what looked like business cards. I stuck out my hand for him to give me a card at the same time that Dad was nudging me not to stick out my hand. The man gave me one of the cards, and it said, in essence, “I am deaf, could you help me out with a donation in exchange for this card?” I could read it well enough and sat there stunned. Finally the man motioned for me to give him back the card and he walked away. Dad leaned over and said, “are you embarrassed enough now?”

     And the midway, when we finally arrived, had so much for the eyes and the ears to take in. I liked the roller coaster and ferris wheels. When waiting for the roller coaster to fill up with passengers, I could hear the recording for the freak show and I could see the sign for the man who could put nails through his cheeks. For me that was the creepy part of the fair – people who would pay money to gawk at freaks, surely that has to be a sin? Once in a while we would play the games – but quickly we realized they were a waste of our money for prizes that weren't worth anything even if we did manage to knock a bottle over or shoot a duck or dunk the clown.

    And most years we did actually eat at the fair – there was a church that served barbeque chicken dinners and the church always had the prime spot with picnic tables and benches – and that was where we would eat. Mom and Dad usually did not trust barbeque chicken – worried it was not cooked fully enough – but I guess at the fair, the chance to sit in somewhat comfort while eating outweighed the risk of undercooked chicken.

     Anyway, there was one year at the fair when Eric was about four years old, and we were in one of the buildings that has displays of new things that are out – usually demonstrations of sharp knives or newfangled vacuum cleaners. An animal in a cage caught Eric's eye, and he started chatting with the people standing there. The animal in the cage was a chinchilla.       The display was for people who might want to raise chinchillas. At your own home, you could receive one of these pets as babies – then you would raise it, feed it, take care of it until it was a certain age or perhaps size, then you would get money for the chinchilla which would then be taken away and replaced, if you wanted, with a new baby chinchilla. Eric found this fascinating. Who wouldn't want such a great deal? A cool pet that sounded like people would pay for you to have? No one pays you to have a dog or a cat (neither of which we had at the time) – but you can get paid to have chinchillas!

     Eric asked what they do with the chinchillas when they buy them from you? And matter-of-factly he was told that they make coats with them. So they shave them? Well, no, the fur is on the skin when they make coats.

     “You kill the chinchillas?”

     His four-year-old outrage could be heard throughout the building – almost louder than the sounds of the fair going on outside.

     And he marched out ahead of us – thoroughly disgusted.

     Plans for the chinchilla farm were short-lived, but the story has lasted forever.

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