James Tate’s new book is Memoir of the Hawk (Ecco, 2001). The Tri-County Fair                     Michelle asked me to go to the Tri-County fair with her. She had never been and was curious to see what it was like. Against my better judgment, I agreed to go. Amidst the over-sized cows and pigs, the swarming mobs jostling us, the grating organ music of the carousels, the flashing lights, even the thought of cotton-candy, I felt weak in the face of so much strength and energy. Michelle seemed to be having a grand time, and I tried to put on a face. Michelle wanted to go on the Ferris wheel. "It’s really for kids," I said. "Oh, Felix," she said, "please." My fear of heights was not consistent, so I had no idea how I’d do, and I did like pleasing Michelle. The moment we were locked into our seats, I broke into a cold sweat. As the ride started up I began to shake uncontrollably. Michelle was shouting, "This is great! Look at the view!" I closed my eyes, praying that that would bring relief. But it didn’t. I couldn’t catch my breath and my heart was amuck. This was the longest ride in Ferris wheel history. I was a wet rag of a man. I felt as if I had just fought World War II all by myself. But I was a better man for it, and the whole nation was so proud of me. I looked around. I had lost Michelle. I could barely muster the strength to push my way through the crowds. I looked for thirty minutes or more, during which time a Clydesdale horse stepped on my foot. I had asked a security guard to broadcast her name and my whereabouts over the p.a. system. When there was no response to that, I grew desolate. Later, I told myself, there never was a Michelle. You just made her up to test your courage. And you failed again, old boy, you failed as you do every year, and that’s why you have no Michelle, you big baby you. The Destiny of Wapakoneta                The little village of Wapakoneta had been a favorite destination of mine for years. It had one of the best General Stores in this part of the country, as well as an odd little antique shop full of surprises. I hadn’t been up that way in about three years, so I was shocked and saddened to find that it had all but disappeared. Two-thirds of the houses were caved-in or flattened. And both the General Store and antique store were boarded up and out of business. As I walked up and down Main Street I could feel a pair of eyes following me. Finally, a voice cried out, "Is that you, Rory?" It was Etta, Etta Hardt. I found her on her porch. She was almost blind, but had recognized my footsteps. "Dear Etta," I said, "it is so good to see you. I’m glad to see you’re well. But what has happened to Wapakoneta?" "I think I’m all that’s left. Oh, Mr. Bailey might still be here, but we never liked each other anyway. I grow my own vegetables. I can barely see them, but I grow them nonetheless. I still keep a tidy house in case of visitors, but you’re the first one in several years," she said. She didn’t seem to want to answer my question. Some kind of fury had unleashed itself upon the village, a storm, but there have always been storms, and bad ones, too. People don’t just give up on three-hundred years of history because of a bad day. Etta served me some tea and gingersnaps. "Are my peonies beautiful this year, Rory?" she said. "Yes, Etta," I said, "they’re magnificent. After an hour of pleasant small talk, I promised to return soon, and took my leave. Driving through the rubble on my way out of town, I thought, No, Etta wouldn’t hurt a flea. The Vision                My friend Kenny had a vision. It told him that he had to quit his job, sell his home, and move to another town. He told me, and any- body who would listen, that he had no choice but to comply with this vision. I said, "Kenny, visions are like telephone calls–you can get the wrong number. It was probably just a dream, and you know how reliable they are. Last week I dreamed I was a duck. Do I look like a duck to you?" At least that got him to smile. "I tell you, Artie, when I woke from that vision there was no question in my mind what I had to do. God was talking right to me," he said. "Oh," I said, "I hadn’t realized it was that big. Of course you’d have to do what the Big One said. What if He told you to slay your family?" Kenny shot me a look that practically guaranteed he’d follow orders. "Just a little vision- humor," I said. But I wasn’t joking, and I’m sure he knew it. The papers are full of people who have taken orders from God. "Artie," he said, "you’ve been a good friend all these years and I’ll miss you. But I can’t turn my back on this thing. God has His reasons for us to move to Springfield, I don’t know what they are. It could be to sell used cars, or to be run over by a taxi, I don’t know. I just know I have to move there." "Gee, Kenny," I said, "I never even knew you were religious, and I thought I knew you pretty well." "I’m not," he said, "but, you know, I’ve been picked for this thing in Springfield." "Could have been a lot worse," I said, though I wasn’t quite sure how.