Nothing says summer like ...

Baseball and state fairs!

Enjoyed the first on Sunday and the latter this evening in Wisconsin. This year, the trend is food on a stick. Unless it's an olive in a Bloody Mary, or shish kabobs on the grill, I'm of the mind, "Let's not and say we did." Just not that into skewered food and, particularly, food that's been skewered and fried.

Just give me the basics, the classics: fresh cream puffs with cold, real cream. And anything that Rupena's makes -- to die for! It's a West Allis caterer that provided the eats for more weddings, funerals and picnics than I can remember growing up here. The chicken I had tonight was marinated in butter, seasoned with garlic, roasted, and served -- plump, thick and tender -- in a fresh bun with lettuce and tomato. No condiments necessary. Accompanied by a cold beer and a cool breeze, and you have my idea of heaven. Especially when there's a group of scruffy young'ins churning up some Irish folk music nearby.

A state fair appeals to all of the senses, but perhaps most salient are the smells. The convergence of strong odors from prized livestock with the aromas of their "kin" being grilled for the pleasure of attendees. Such is the cycle of life. Just ask E.B. White's infamous pig, "Wilbur," saved from such a fate by his supremely generous friend, "Charlotte."

And even when you're no longer of younger and crazier mind to partake of rides designed to do nothing less than play havoc with your central nervous system, there's the ubiquitous ferris wheel, tame enough for just about any age, and offering spectacular views of the lights of the city beyond.

There are larger fairs than the one in Wisconsin. I should know. My family lived right across the street from it, in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. Now, I know dem's fightin' words with Texans. Their fair lasts longer and ultimately has a greater overall attendance. But Minnesota's has a larger daily attendance, and it's also got Garrison Keillor and gang as perennial performers.

No matter where you live, you really oughtta go to your fair this year. Most things American -- including my beloved baseball -- seem almost unrecognizable these days, with the actual event taking a back seat to the techno-happy, ear-blasting sideshows. But not a fair. It's still pretty much what it's always been. And that's a good thing.