Looking back to 1962

In 1987, a quarter-century after the Seattle's World's Fair (Century-21), our local newspaper put out a call to its readers. "Send us your memories of the world's fair," it requested, "and we will publish the best/most memorable ones."

Even in those twenty-five years later, Jay and I still distinctly remembered an experience we had as newlyweds attending the 1962 Fair. We we were pretty sure it was unique to us. And we were pretty adhament in our hopes that it hadn't happened to anyone else.

"Should I write it up?" I asked him.  He laughed and nodded positively, so I began. Before I knew it, the memory was turning into a rhyming poem--and the next day, I mailed it to the Times (before Internet submissions). Not surprisingly, it did not warrant a place in the final picks to be published (I think 21 pieces were selected).

Recently I came across the poem in some of my archived writing. It's certainly not a great poem, but it's a great anecdote. You'll know why we never forgot it when you read the poem. It made me laugh, and I hope it does the same for you,too.

Century-21

It’s a beautiful day

Not a cloud in the sky.

So off to the fair

Go my husband and I.

We check out Flaminco

at the Spanish pavilion,

sip Chilean wine

and dance a cotillion.

Then it’s on to Bugaku

with actors reclusive,

imported for fair-goers—

its patrons exclusive.

No trip to the fair

is complete without rides—

carousel, centrifuge, and

cable-car glides

Last not but least

is the Ferris wheel trip.

We have saved it for last

to see setting sun dip.

We are feeling fulfilled

as we’re scooped up in air,

but suddenly raindrops

start to fall in my hair.

I say to my husband,

“Wait! How can it be?

Not a cloud in the sky

but it’s raining on me?”

“No, it isn’t,” he says

and points up above.

“Someone is losing her

cookies, my love.”

That is the reason,

needless to say,

we avoid Ferris wheels

to this very today.