The 1982 World’s Fair

Recently I have been see­ing a lot of news about the splen­dor and spec­ta­cle that is the 2010 World’s Fair in Shang­hai, China. This event is expected to attract between 70 and 100 mil­lion vis­i­tors, as coun­tries, busi­nesses, and entre­pre­neurs from around the world seek to gain access to the rapidly grow­ing Chi­nese markets.

Well eco­nom­ics aside, all this World’s Fair talk takes me back to a swel­ter­ing day in the sum­mer of 1982 when my par­ents loaded up the Ford Fair­mont wagon and headed off to Knoxville, Ten­nessee for The World’s Fair.  Here are some of my fond mem­o­ries of that excursion.

• Being the youngest of 3, I was lucky enough to ride in the back of the sta­tion wagon by myself with the lug­gage and the end­lessly squeak­ing Sty­ro­foam cooler.

• We actu­ally made the trip to Knoxville from the moun­tains of West­ern North Car­olina, where we were stay­ing with fam­ily.  While this was a shorter drive than going there from Spring­field, Ohio, it was also a con­sid­er­ably more adven­tur­ous ride.  My dad, who grew up dri­ving in the moun­tains, was more than com­fort­able pulling a few g’s rac­ing around curvy, nar­row, gravel, moun­tain roads at high speeds.  Mean­while, the rest of the “Drag­gin Wagon” pas­sen­gers were pass­ing around a bed pan so that we could vomit with­out hav­ing to stop the car and jeop­ar­dize our chances of “mak­ing good time.”  This made the way back, devoid of win­dows that opened,  smell won­der­ful.  Noth­ing like being packed in with lug­gage, star­ing off into the abyss of a moun­tain val­ley, won­der­ing if this would be the last time you ever got to hold a plas­tic pan of vomit.

• We played slug-bug, which is much more fun if you are the older, taller, stronger, more well seated sib­lings who can actu­ally see out­side of the car.
• The Fair was very hot.  My older brother and sis­ter left to go ride rides, have fun, prob­a­bly meet famous peo­ple like Kenny Rogers and do awe­some stuff (at least that is what this 9 year old imag­ined).  Mom, dad, and I walked toward a build­ing that con­tained an exhibit for Mex­ico.  We stood in a very long line.  We went into the build­ing, which was very dark inside.  We read about Mex­ico on poorly designed dis­plays.  We went back out­side.  It was hot.  We found another county.  We stood in a very long line… you get the idea.
• I was such a pain in the ass that my mom and dad made me sit on the lawn out­side of the amphithe­ater where they were watch­ing some sort of coun­try jam­boree play.  I was not really down with this form of enter­tain­ment, and appar­ently must have just both­ered them for so long that I got a World’s Fair time out.  I don’t fully remem­ber the details of that part, but I know that I was told to go sit in the spot on the lawn where they could see me and not to move until they got done watch­ing the show.
• There was a big gold disco ball on an iron tower.   It was called the Sun Sphere.  Appar­ently it was sym­bolic of our solar energy future.  How fit­ting.  You could even eat din­ner inside of it.  How­ever, we… did not choose to go up into it, because the line for the cool disco ball restau­rant that I really wanted to see was too long.  Instead I think we went to see the Canada exhibit, where we stood in line.
• I scored an awe­some trucker hat, which our cat later peed on.  It got thrown away. (the hat, not the cat)

My par­ents picked up a 1982 World’s Fair cof­fee mug which is now my all time favorite mug to drink my morn­ing cof­fee from.  It is pic­tured here in the post.  I applaud my par­ents for hav­ing the brav­ery to drag the fam­ily to the 1982 World’s Fair.  I am sure that between tick­ets, park­ing, food, and other expenses it was not a cheap day.  I am also sure that they were doing their best to pro­vide us with cul­tural expo­sure and give us a fun fam­ily day to remem­ber for the rest of our lives.  In spite of the fact that the day was not ideal for this 9 year old, look­ing back I am glad that they reg­u­larly did this kind of stuff.  Sorry it took me decades of time and actu­ally becom­ing a par­ent to understand.

Now, as my kids com­plain about break­fast, or get­ting dressed, or not want­ing to do some­thing, I can take a sip of cof­fee from my 1982 World’s Fair mug and have a laugh at myself before com­pletely los­ing it.  As a par­ent, it is about try­ing to make it work — try­ing to build mem­o­ries.  If that day had been per­fect, chances are I would not remem­ber it at all.  It is the look­ing back on the per­fect day gone awry that makes us chuckle.

To Knoxville, I thank you for your hos­pi­tal­ity.  To Shang­hai, I wish all of the 100 mil­lion vis­i­tors who attend your World’s Fair enjoy it as much, and not a bit more, than I enjoyed my World’s Fair experience.