She was in her element working the Horse Show.

Oh, you could find WeeZee Miner at other events across the state, if there was an equine component; she loved horses. She loved animals, period. WeeZee could have made people flock to a Hamster Barn just to see her.

She wouldn't have seen them, alas. The woman whose outfits gave everyone's retinas a jolt was legally blind. She wore sunglasses to protect what was left of her sight. That didn't stop her from sewing her own clothes.

Was she born WeeZee? Ask Steve Pooch, who ran the horse competition department for 37 years.

"She wasn't always WeeZee. The horse folks started calling her that nickname, and she liked it. We'd laugh about her being a diva, and having a moniker, but she stuck with it. Didn't even want to put her name in the program. She wanted 'Hostess: WeeZee.' "

What she didn't want was any recognition of her chronological achievement. Pooch tried to give her an award for people who have served the fair for 50 years. "She said, 'Absolutely not, I don't want anyone to have any inkling of what my age is. They'll put two and two together.' "

It could have been a grand ceremony: The spotlight hitting that dazzling costume, bouncing off her glasses. She might not have seen the horses and crowds, but she'd have heard the applause and the snort of the beasts.

Sorry, WeeZee, but you're due an award, and you're going to get it here. But your secret is safe with us — there is no age in the headline.

By the way, wasn't it difficult moving among those massive creatures when she couldn't see?

"Oh," Pooch said, "she could always sense where the horses were."