Magic and the Iowa State Fair

8/5/2026

“I don’t believe in gnomes,” my granddaughter says.

I nod sagely — not being a believer in gnomes myself.

“But I do believe in fairies,” she says seriously.

And there we have it. Magic. From the mouth of a child.

As an adult, that magic bucket gets pretty depleted. There are many guesses as to why. The most obvious may be because we are adults and actually have to mow the lawn, go to a job, get the kids to swim lessons and make dinner. There is no time for fairies or gnomes. Life is exhausting enough.

Or maybe magic is gone because anything that has even a speck of mystery can be solved with a quick question to your phone: “Siri, why does the moon look so large and orange on the horizon tonight?” Trust me, Siri will not respond, “The mighty gods are giving us a sign that it’s going to be a great harvest.” Siri is to magic what rain is to a picnic. A bit of a damper.

Nate Staniforth, a magician and author out of Iowa City, wrote a wonderful book called “Here is Real Magic.” It lays out his journey as a magician performing around the country, his eventual disillusionment with his purpose, and then his search for wonder with the magicians, wise men and women, and gurus of India.

Staniforth writes about the danger of “Google it.”

“If I don’t have the answers now, I can find them,” Staniforth says referring to all of us holding our phones, “and without even noticing we shrink our world down to the size of our certainties.”

Yikes.

And remember Robert Waller of “Bridges of Madison County” fame? In “Just Beyond the Firelight,” he wrote that romance is something that makes “all the living and doing” worthwhile. However, romance is fickle, Waller says. It can be lost if it isn’t nurtured. Most importantly, romance “flees from the cold light of logic and data collection.”

Both Staniforth and Waller spell out how to keep and nurture romance and wonder. But it’s August. It’s Iowa State Fair time. You want romance and wonder now.

Then go to the fair.

Listen, I am biased toward the Iowa State Fair. For starters, a whole slew of my relatives are involved — from food stands, to rides, to games, to being in charge of setting up the Midway. The fair is family.

And then there’s the fact that I’m that sucker that is “born every minute,” as P.T. Barnum is said to have remarked. I’m the teenager, at the now-defunct All-Iowa Fair in Cedar Rapids, who bought dice from a stand where the guy assured this Catholic-school boy if I put the magic dice in water overnight, a naked woman would appear in the dice the next morning. Fifty plus years later, I’m still waiting. My goodness.

Also the fair offers an old man just the right amount of thrill. I’m more than willing to take a few years off my life and eat this award-winning concoction made by cousin’s son at last year’s fair. “Daredevil” is my middle name.

So I’m biased. But, trust me, the Iowa State Fair will fill your magic bucket if you just sit back and don’t ask Siri.

Let’s count the ways.

The butter cow in its total lack of seriousness makes you smile. The largest pig you’ve ever seen is jaw-dropping. The thunder of the big bull coming out of his trailer onto the arena floor so quickens your heart you look to the nearest exit. The carnival rides charm with all that sparkle and twirl and those flips and turns. The big yellow slide, chosen for its mellowness, causes your stomach to delightfully crash up and down and then roar to a stop. The homemade rugs and sweaters and paintings and photographs and baked goods and 4-H projects are humbling and make you proud of the Iowans who made them. And the homegrown singers and dancers and musicians and cow-chip throwers are an inspiration for the future.

I mean, come on, just look at these horses.

They might be angels visiting the earth.

Or this motley crew of brothers and sisters.

Wilbur would be envious.

And the farm-kid pranksters who coax a fake spider onto your shoulder in the livestock barns — an awesome moment of terror.

But we all know it’s the people-watching that really is magical. You want to dress up like a bird? Be a flamingo. You want to wear a weird hat? Wear the one with the propeller. You want to sing as you’re walking the concourse? Do the complete Taylor Swift catalogue. Just go for it.

We’ll applaud your trumpet playing or smile at your frog costume or help you order ice cream from your wheel chair. The Iowa State Fair forces you to be in the moment and to look closely — that’s why you bought the ticket. Your focus and intention win the day. And that’s magic.

And, by the way, after you watch the baby chicks hatch from their shells, and a calf being born in the hay, and a lamb testing out her new legs, are you certain there aren’t fairies? ♦

Joe Weeg spent 31 years bumping around this town as a prosecutor for the Polk County Attorney’s Office. Now retired, he writes about the frequently overlooked people, places and events in Des Moines on his blog: www.joesneighborhood.com.