Joe Soucheray
Joe Soucheray

Well, it's come to this: Starting this summer, smokers at the Minnesota State Fair will now be penned and put on display, like cattle, poultry, crop art, lawn equipment, fish in a tank, baked goods and the reptiles at Monty's place.

And you know perfectly well that in the interests of cultural understanding, curiosity and possibly for the purpose of public shaming, the smokers will be sought out and stared at by people with their mouths open.

"Ma, can we see the smokers now, can we, huh, can we?"

Why, it will become so ritualistic that families will decide just exactly at which point during their visit to the Fair they will schedule the smokers, first thing, sometime in the middle of the day, or maybe late, when the smokers sit slumped and weary with a beer bottle held lightly in their free hand.

It is almost worth it to take up the habit again, just for theatrics' sake.

"What are you looking at, kid?"

"Hey, what's the matter with you, you ain't never saw a smoker before?"

"Wanna see me strike a match with just one hand?"

You could rear up in the pen and make threatening gestures or show off by making smoke come out of your nose and ears.

There they would stand, the enlightened, smoke-free, holding their wooden yardsticks and imaginary stuffed animals on imaginary leashes, and they would nudge their children and tell them, "See, this is what happens if you smoke."

"What happens?"

"You end up in a corral."

The Minnesota State Agricultural Society, the fair's governing body, approved the decision to limit smoking on the grounds at its meeting Jan. 20. The customary blather was right out of Sensitivity 101, seeking an effort to be family-friendly, concerns about secondhand smoke, the need to get in step with fairs, municipalities, colleges and park districts that have clamped down on smokers.

It was even noted in another newspaper that last year a 2-year-old child was injured by a cigarette. As her family turned away from the day's parade, the kid was accidently poked in the eye by a lit heater, the first time in my experience or reading that a cigarette was made tantamount to a weapon. Thankfully, the child fully recovered and the newspaper reported that her family certainly intends to return to the Fair this summer.

Now, before the enlightened and the smug engage in too much self-congratulation, they might consider that if it is smoke they are worried about, the Fair has a long way to go. You can smell a pork chop on a stick at about Hamline and Thomas.

Or maybe it is the food itself that you had better be guarding. The anti-obesity movement in this country expertly mimics the early days of the anti-smoking movement, the demonization and the clucking of tongues and so forth. It isn't much of a limb to go out on to say that within a few years some of the favorite foods will be gone -- cheese curds, fries, cotton candy. Some Mayor Bloomberg wannabe will try to ban pop in the fight against Big Sugar.

Look at the sanitization of the Midway, the disappearance of Bonnie and Clyde's bullet-riddled Ford, the firing of the Abominable Snowman, thus depriving some defensive lineman from Wisconsin or Alabama of a summer job.

It is a messy web we weave when we try to tell others how to lead their lives, and I am afraid the rounding up and sequestering of smokers is a big leap into the future of an all-vegetarian, sun-blocked and grease-free exposition.

On a positive note, the Agricultural Society also voted to restore the old streetcar arch recently discovered in the scrub woods across Como and have it on display.

For historical accuracy, I'd make its location one of the smoking areas.
