A Fall Fair

The emotions I associate with fall have changed a little since I was young, but I haven’t forgotten how it felt back then.

When I was a child, autumn held a special charm for me. Part of it, perhaps, was that October is my birth month. Mostly, however, it was that I loved everything associated with Halloween.

The Santa Ana winds were frequent visitors in late October and always seemed to bring a special charge of excitement with them as they blew down the passes and out to sea. They shook the palms and sent withered fronds crashing into gutters. Armies of brown leaves raked and skittered down streets and sidewalks. Streets whispered, houses creaked, trees sighed, clothing itched and doorknobs sparked.

It was the perfect weather for ghosts and goblins and nighttime fright. Magic and mischief were always in the air in the autumn months of my childhood.

Last week’s Santa Ana winds blew themselves out by sundown Saturday. Sunday brought an onshore flow that cooled things off a little, but the afternoon was bright and sunny and still had that beautiful fall clarity. I took in the sunshine with my wife and daughter at the Larchmont Family Fair, one of the oldest and longest-running street fairs in Los Angeles. The Fair has been part of Halloween in my neighborhood ever since I was a boy and Sunday’s event churned up quite a few memories.

There have been superficial changes. The carney rides are different and there is more ethnic food (back when I was a kid, hot dogs and pizza were pretty much it). What hasn’t changed is the essence. The Fair is still lots of fun. It is still a lot like it was when my brother and I had the run of the place as kids.

Sunday, just as in the old days, traffic was shut off at Beverly and at First, turning Larchmont's commercial center into one big playground. The metered parking lot in the middle of the block had been transformed into a fun zone, with a small Ferris wheel and other rides built around motion, speed and spin. For the younger kids, there was face-painting, a pony ride and a petting zoo. A DJ provided an amplified beat. A local dance school performed. The realty office down the block sponsored a kid’s Halloween costume contest. (A lot of fairgoers were in costume, including some of the neighborhood canines.)


The LAFD was out in force, the local engine company’s ladder truck a big draw for the kids. Nearby, a faux Mt. Rushmore offered a dizzying climb for the adventurous. Strange sounds emanated from a Haunted House. An array of food stations stretched down the street, offering great variety – bulgogi, tamales, satay, potstickers, corn on the cob. Some hawked cupcakes frosted black and orange. Others touted churros and caramel apples.

Information booths lined both sides of the street. Local schools, both public and private, were well represented. Parents provided the staffing. I pulled a two-hour stint at the booth for my daughter’s school. That gave my daughter, who is just a few weeks shy of her tenth birthday, time to explore on her own, without Dad peering over her shoulder. She made the most of it, exploring the Fair with friends. At the end of the day, her eyes were bright with delight. She told breathlessly of climbing the faux Mt. Rushmore, of reaching the top and sounding the klaxon.

“I’m GOOD, Dad!” she said, drawing the adjective out for emphasis. She has become increasingly adept at independent action and is impatient for more. She has natural zest. She knows how to have fun. Looking into her eyes, I glimpsed a bit of myself as I must have been, forty-five years ago. She had come to the Larchmont Fair and had the run of the place, just as my brother and I used to do all those years ago. She loves fall and Halloween. It exhilarates her.


As the sun began to set and the fair ended, she and her mother left for home, taking the car. I stayed behind to help with take-down and clean-up. When it was finished, I walked home. I sauntered down a block where sweet gum (liquidambar) was the prevailing street tree. The leaves -- red, gold, purple -- glowed softly in the final rays of the dying sun. Then darkness fell.

The nights are getting cold now in Southern California. The cold and dark of autumn are no longer magical for me. Now they remind me that winter is coming. That is how perceptions change with age.

As I walked the lights came on in the Craftsman houses that lined the block. I thought of my wife and daughter, sitting in our own lighted rooms, waiting for me to return. I thought again of my daughter’s smile, as she recounted her climb that day. A little of the magic came back, despite the dark and cold. That is what children do for you.

I picked up the pace, anxious to be home.