When I was a child, my mother barely left the house. Her travels out and about consisted primarily of walking across the footbridge to Portland, Pennsylvania to the A&P. That's why it was like a talisman, a secret shiny thought I held in highest regard that she had once attended the 1939 World's Fair in New York. I'd actually seen a small photograph of her there. I couldn't work out how she'd gotten there. I couldn't imagine her in such a frightening, alien surrounding. But she had gone and I was impressed! I believe that I felt I was somehow more important than most - my mother had gone to the World's Fair!
Years later, Lar and I went to the World's Fair - NY - 1964. It was more exciting to me than I think Lar realized. I felt like my mother and I had a greater connection now. We had both attended the World's Fair!
Having just read E. L. Doctorow's World's Fair, I had similar fantastical feelings. I relived my mother's experiences, and my own. At least, the way I think she would have felt.
Good read.
Good memories.
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