The smell of cotton and the pungent odor of trampled fall grass mingled with the wonderful aroma of corndogs and cotton candy. Children giggled and begged for one more ride as they pulled their parents from one ride to the next. Mysterious faces peeked from veiled tents inviting you to come see the fattest woman in the world or the Lost Princess of the Nile. A strong muscular man decorated with tattoos stood in the doorway of a huge enclosed truck, daring you to come see the two headed snake and the hungry man-eating crocodile inside. Their hideous images covered the truck in an indelible scene. Games of chance challenged your skills of basketball, pitching, and rifle shooting. The smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and funnel cakes pulled from all directions. But, we had saved our money to ride the defying Ferris wheel.
There she was, right in the middle of the fairgrounds, two giant wheels side by side, suspended just enough to dangerously miss the earth beneath while sweeping the night sky above. The rickety seats, with safety bars ajar rocked back and forth between the wheels. The seats creaked and the well-worn chains clinked against each other. Lights blinked around the circumference of the giant wheels then ran back and forth along the spokes to the center hubs. A dirty, burley, indifferent short man with his hands on the controls idly waited for the line of pensive adventurers to grow long enough to fill the ride.
“There was still time to back out. But other people had lived through this.”
Then suddenly the line was moving. It was time to make a decision. No, too late, the short man was waiting for us to get in. He snapped the safety bar and our seat moved backwards rocking back and forth. As each seat was filled we moved backward and higher until we were at the very top of the giant wheel. We laughed and screamed as the Ferris wheel seat swayed forward, then backward at its highest point overlooking Sikeston. Suddenly with a jerk, the seat began to move, slowly at first and then rapidly around and around as the wheels turned. Just when fear had given way to fun, it was over and the short burley man was hurrying us off the wheel.
This rare visit to this annual
event sparked grand imaginations. Oh to
travel from one town to the next, to live in a trailer decorated with hangings
of silk and satin edged with tassels would be so romantic. No school, and all
the time in the world to while away the hours on the floor of a carnival tent
or to play with new found friends in the cool grass between the house trailers seemed
divine.
Rain moved in Saturday evening, the last night of the carnival. Low hanging gray clouds replaced the clear blue skies, forming the perfect back drop for the brilliant colors of fall. The warm stillness of early fall gave way to a cool dampness that urged the leaves to loosen themselves from the branches from which they had danced all summer. Whirling to the earth in their last dance, they covered the ground outside the window like a red, brown and golden blanket. Winter was near.
A warm fire burned in the pot-bellied stove and the wonderful smell of Sunday dinner filled the house. I pulled on a sweater and positioned myself in the front window to watch traffic that might pass on the dirt road in front of the house on the hill. There was little traffic this morning, but the damp air carried the sound of an approaching vehicle. I immediately took notice.
An older car came into view and passed by slowly. The couple in the front seat looked tired and unkept. The car was packed with blankets, clothes, carnival decorations, and prizes. A girl about my age lay on top of all their belongings, near the ceiling of the car. She looked cozy and warm, wrapped in a blanket. She, no doubt was on her way to another exciting carnival. Her hands were under her chin as were mine and for just a moment our eyes met. We were two children with a longing for a taste of the life of the other.
What did she see in the blue eyes staring back at her from between simple curtains? Perhaps she saw security, stability, and a chance to go to school. Did she see a chance to make forever friends that you didn’t have to leave behind? Did she dream of no more traveling, of sleeping in a real bed, of home cooked meals instead of left over hot dogs?
We often overlook how blessed we are in our quest for the unknown, our wanderlust for adventure, and our weariness and boredom of the ordinary. But of such is the catalyst of creativity, maturity, invention and progress.
Rain moved in Saturday evening, the last night of the carnival. Low hanging gray clouds replaced the clear blue skies, forming the perfect back drop for the brilliant colors of fall. The warm stillness of early fall gave way to a cool dampness that urged the leaves to loosen themselves from the branches from which they had danced all summer. Whirling to the earth in their last dance, they covered the ground outside the window like a red, brown and golden blanket. Winter was near.
A warm fire burned in the pot-bellied stove and the wonderful smell of Sunday dinner filled the house. I pulled on a sweater and positioned myself in the front window to watch traffic that might pass on the dirt road in front of the house on the hill. There was little traffic this morning, but the damp air carried the sound of an approaching vehicle. I immediately took notice.
An older car came into view and passed by slowly. The couple in the front seat looked tired and unkept. The car was packed with blankets, clothes, carnival decorations, and prizes. A girl about my age lay on top of all their belongings, near the ceiling of the car. She looked cozy and warm, wrapped in a blanket. She, no doubt was on her way to another exciting carnival. Her hands were under her chin as were mine and for just a moment our eyes met. We were two children with a longing for a taste of the life of the other.
What did she see in the blue eyes staring back at her from between simple curtains? Perhaps she saw security, stability, and a chance to go to school. Did she see a chance to make forever friends that you didn’t have to leave behind? Did she dream of no more traveling, of sleeping in a real bed, of home cooked meals instead of left over hot dogs?
We often overlook how blessed we are in our quest for the unknown, our wanderlust for adventure, and our weariness and boredom of the ordinary. But of such is the catalyst of creativity, maturity, invention and progress.
