Seven years ago, Julia had the fine distinction of being the youngest and smallest driver in a special class of oxen pulling I watched. It was both entertaining and impressive. I snapped some photos and wrote an article in the hopes people would appreciate her skill and accomplishment.

Over the years since, I’ve always kept an eye out for her whenever I attend a pulling. So even though we only had one day to take in the Fryeburg Fair this year, much of it was spent sitting on the bleachers in the pulling barn and wandering through the barns where oxen were kept for viewing.

About halfway through Barn 15, I was a bit surprised to see that article and the photos I took laminated and stapled to a post near several teams. I scribbled a note on the back of a business card and tucked it into the article. “We are only here for the day… hope to bump into you!”

And we did—although our conversation took place leaning over the rail between the stands and “pit”  between events. We met Grandpa Steve first—he assured us that Julia is, in fact, still driving oxen and horses. He pointed out that she’s still on the petite side, so when she arrives home from school, he must harness the horses for her, but then she’s off breaking trails in the winter and helping him with chores. She’s also managing fourteen beehives in her spare time.

Dad and Mom soon joined our conversation. That’s when I learned how that pull seven years ago changed the face of pulling at fairs by demonstrating that kids (youth—not necessarily preschoolers) could safely manage teams. I confess hearing that made me feel a bit smug because the conclusion of that article was “Never underestimate a kid.”

Maybe another truth is “never underestimate the power of words.” While it was Julia and not my words that changed pulling at fairs, I am proud and humbled that those words I wrote seven years ago had significant meaning to Julia’s family. And who knows how many others? A lot of people were at the Fryeburg Fair. I want to think a few stopped to read the article stapled to the post. Apparently, the family found meaning in those words, and I gather the words travel with them to fairs.

It is equally apparent that Julia is a kid who would be easy to underestimate. She has a lot going on for her in terms of enthusiasm and determination. That’s just as apparent as it was seven years ago. Like many kids, it’s easy to be surprised by their potential. We didn’t get to watch her pull—that wasn’t happening until later in the week–but we did enjoy watching her serve as hitcher for her grandfather. Her parents were only too happy to share some of her many accomplishments. Julia also has achieved a rite of passage—during a pull a while back, she and her team broke a yoke. That demonstration of power is an achievement for both the team and the teamster.

While discussing Julia’s beehives, her Dad noted that Julia considers anything her grandfather does as “good.” Based on the way he said it, I think it falls into the category of an “open secret”—something everyone knows but doesn’t acknowledge openly.  

When Julia arrived during our conversation, she of course had no idea who I was. She also didn’t realize how important she’s become to me. So, if she reads this, she’ll now know an “open secret.” I think a lot of her and admire her greatly!

You see, I drove to Fryeburg as much out of necessity as want. There’s been too much talk and thought about some “new normal” that seems to be about uncertainty with an unhealthy dose of pessimism stirred in. I needed to “center” and experience something reassuring and optimistic.  I needed to be reminded that some things are certain, including the energy and enthusiasm of the kids we tend to underestimate. We often lament the world that we are going to leave for them and, in so doing, forget they will likely be better at managing it than we have been. For that reminder, thanks, Julia.