I start to think, “I was the last generation to know it as it was. I rode the final wave.”

But then it dawns on me: That’s probably how everyone from the “sleepy farm town close to Seattle and Tacoma” feels about Puyallup.

Then it also dawns on me: Why do my thoughts sound like someone doing a bad Val Kilmer impression?

But that’s not important.

I grew up in Puyallup — or Edgewood to be more precise. Puyallup, really, encompasses a valley with two hills, and Edgewood is on the north side. We’ll get to South Hill in a minute.

Edgewood is a tight-knit (read: moderately incestuous) little patch of farmy green open spaces — the occasional bored looking horse milling around mixed with the sweet smell of Febreze, Pottery Barn décor, a little bit of new cul-de-sac scent, and, of course, progress.  Edgewood is its own town now — incorporated in 1996, yo! — but to anyone who knows the area it’s still part of the growing beast that is Puyallup.

South Hill is — and continues to be — like Edgewood in bizarro world. Where Edgewood is farmy and quaint (and, yes, I’ve obviously made up the word “farmy”; get over it), South Hill is like an Old Country Buffet of never ending Jack in the Boxes, older strip malls being eaten by new strip malls, large automobiles and — again — progress. Meridian Avenue, Puyallup’s main artery, gets big and fat at the pavement christened entrance of South Hill, but the cars still clog it — idling furiously between the mall, a few mondo chain restaurants, a Home Depot, and the shadow of Wal-Mart. Tackling South Hill by car is a battle not easily won.

Between South Hill and Edgewood there’s the lush valley of Puyallup. You don’t have to be a closet Meriwether Lewis freak to see what the pioneers saw in this promising spread. The Puyallup River and the fertile soil that surrounds it created a perfect spot for the farming and small town living of yesterday — and later the car dealerships, widened roads, population explosion, track homes, apartment complexes, and industrial parks we’ve come to know and love.

It’s easy to see why Puyallup is a town steeped in agricultural history, a place built on hard work and down-home ideals. It’s also easy to see how much things have changed.

One need only examine the Puyallup Fair to see.

Just like Puyallup as a town has grown exponentially from its small, humble beginnings — from field plowing, porch talking and cow milking to cheap beer, high school football and dusty trucks right into full-size SUVS, flat-screen televisions and suburban sprawl — the Fair has grown up beside it. What started as a three-day “Valley Fair” in a vacant lot has exploded into a monster spectacle — occupying 169 acres and 17 days, regularly drawing crowds of 1.1 million per year and generally shocking the senses with a staggering array of ShamWows, sit-down foot massage machines, big ass cows, hot tub demonstrations, Funtastic carnie people, Krusty Pups, onion burgers, giant stuffed panda bears, hypnotist shows, guys with Janet Jackson headsets trying to sell stuff, live concerts, elephant ears, and “fun for the whole family.”

These days The Puyallup Fair is one of the top 10 largest fairs in the world — and it’s only getting bigger. Every year, matching our American spirit, the Fair gets a little more ginormous, inching out and expanding steadily.

Progress, in other words.

But there are still plenty of people in Puyallup who remember how things once were — worn faces that recall the horse races and the excitement over new automobile models being unveiled, old-timers who remember the dorms where Puyallup’s farming kids would come and stay while they worked for the duration of the fair, which lasted only nine days back then. There are people who remember how crowds flocked to see the draft horses and people who remember vividly the year the fair re-awakened after a four-year slumber because the grounds had been converted into a Japanese-American internment camp during World War II.

The Puyallup Fair returned in 1946, drawing a single day record at the time of 100,000 people. Larry Bargmeyer, who grew up on a local farm and brought pigs and dairy cows to the Fair every year, remembers it well. The 1946 Puyallup Fair was also Bargmeyer’s first. He has rarely missed a year since.

“It was a big deal,” recalls Bargmeyer, who says one of his fondest Fair memories is of his parents dropping him off at the start of the Fair each fall so he could stay in the dorms and work with his animals.

“We had to figure out how to survive. We used our wits to get by,” says Bargmeyer.

Bargmeyer also recalls a Fair with circus acts, rodeos every day and a smaller assortment of vendors — each typically owned and operated by an individual person with one particular product he’d sell at the Fair each year.

These days it seems like all 169 acres of the Fair are packed to the gills with anything and everything for sale, but many small family entrepreneurial traditions that have grown up with the Fair still live on.

Perhaps the most delicious example is the Krusty Pup.

In 1970, the Sales family invented the Krusty Pup — a kind of suped-up corn dog that has reached iconic food status around these parts thanks to an extra delicious, pancake-like coating. Krusty Pups still are officially available only at the Puyallup Fair.  In creating the Krusty Pup, the Sales family was following in the footsteps of Char Berger’s grandma, Louise Sales, who originally brought the Mrs. Sales Family Lunch Counter to the Puyallup Fair in 1923. Berger, just like Bargmeyer, has a whole swath of fond memories built around a childhood growing up with the Fair. To this day, her family still operates the Mrs. Sales Family Lunch Counter — where you can still get breakfast on their china plates — as well as each and every Krusty Pup stand you see. It’s a year-round job, including the Spring Fair, built on Krusty Pups, onion burgers and the tastes that have helped make the Fair famous. And it’s a job that requires months of preparation for 17 frantic days.

Berger remembers getting out of school with her three sisters to work the Fair each year.

“We got out of school for one week. They figured we were learning something,” says Berger. “We would clean the counter because we were the right size. We also stacked the cheese, so the cooks could grab it, and we washed a lot of dishes.

“Now, our kids work.”

And so it comes full circle. Just like Bargmeyer, Berger and the Puyallup Fair have grown up, so has the community they’re all a part of. Today’s Fair reflects the many ways that life in Puyallup has changed since its sleepy farm beginnings and, perhaps most importantly, the ways it has stayed the same. Family and tradition are still paramount, and the farm has never been completely forgotten.

“The size of the Fair has changed dramatically. Puyallup was a sleepy farm town. Now it’s a busy suburb,” says Bargmeyer. “As the community changes, the Fair changes.”

He’s right, but luckily there are exceptions to the rule.

Sure, there has been plenty of progress in Puyallup, and the modern-day Fair is in many ways a testament to just that, but there are still precious facets of what the Fair is and what the Fair is all about that remain reassuringly constant — even today.

In truth, that is — and always will be — the best part.

[The Puyallup Fair, Sept. 11-27, adults $11, kids and seniors $8, five and under free, Ninth and Meridian, Puyallup, 253.841.5045]