No, my stroke was a good excuse to stop working there. I don't miss it. The hours were horrible and the workload was incredible. And the blood connection was my uncle who died during the fair. Over the years afterward, the fun in it drained out and I was slowly made more of a slave. Besides, I'm far too busy running SouthWest Writers (http://www.southwestwriters.org
) and my writing career.
I do plan on visiting the fair and flipping a burger or two for myself. And, especially, making myself a Philly steak sandwich. I like to think I made the best ones that came out of the trailer--I certainly got a lot of compliments.
For those who haven't heard this story before: one year my friend showed up and wanted to taste his first ever corndog. I made him a very special one: a quadruple-dipped multiple-deep-fried corn dog that was about 4 inches in diameter and must have weighed a pound. He was not impressed.
BTW, I ran a SouthWest Writers program on Saturday. While introducing the board of directors, I pointed out my wife who is the chair of the critique service. I told the audience that after watching the story last week of the Austrian girl who was kidnapped when she was ten years old, I had an epiphany. I finally figured out why she has stayed married to me for almost forty years--she was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.