July 31, Sagamore Hills.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Life.
July 31, Sagamore Hills.
(The picture was taken in the park adjacent to the lot in Chesterland.)
Thursday, July 30, 2009
The Lunas.
July 30, Massillon.
Yolanda is leaving soon too, to join her mother and another circus in California.
Carousel.
July 30, Massillon.
It took fourteen years for Clark Haynam, of Massillon, to build his carousel. There was no model, he says, it just evolved.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Jason.
July 29, Willowick.
And Jason's children, Wesley, five, Brooklyn, three, and Kinlee, nine.
They'll go back to their mother's after Kelley's Island, next week.
Pat and Mike.
July 28, Chesterland.
Pat and Mike joined the circus back in Massachusetts; she's been working in the office, he at the door. They'll soon be going back home to Mission, Texas, down in the Rio Grande valley, after a square dancing detour in South Carolina. They are retired school teachers, traveling the country in their RV, and they love the circus, so for a while they took a funky holiday on the road with Kelly Miller.
They are gregarious and easy-going. He favors cowboy boots and hats; she is a casual dresser, but neat and precise. To me they're the all-American grandparents.
Mike will give you a 'It's a beautiful day' greeting every morning.
I'm alive! he says, if pressed to elaborate in light of yet another rainy day in what has been a straining rainy season.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Dumping mecca.
July 26, Conneaut.
En route we (and the rest of the circus) made the familiar visit to the mecca of RVers the country around, the Flying J truck stop.
Lake Erie.
July 25, Conneaut.
We moved tonight after shows at eleven and two o'clock, and arrived to discover the circus parked on a park that bears its name well, at the edge of Lake Erie. We chatted a long time with Danny and Tavana, who were sitting on a bench waiting for the sunset views over the lake, people were out everywhere enjoying la noche libre, the generator was even turned on, all we needed was smores and it was like a summer holiday at the camp.
Along the route driving out of Middlefield Amish families waved us by standing in their driveway by the road.
Teenagers.
July 24, Middlefield.
The show was booked, the Amish came out in droves, filling the tent with straw hats and turquoise blue hues, and they were a great audience. The clowns brought down the tent; it was a treat to see and hear.
During intermission boys and girls stood in the midway acting like typical teenagers, but in distinct groups, never mingling, and the boys were all swagger and attitude, and the girls all gigglish laughter, only they were dressed from head to toe in conservative Amish attire, making the spectacle all the more enjoyable for being so anachronic.
The boys all smoked, too, and some of the girls, and a cloud soon formed above the midway.
The show was booked, the Amish came out in droves, filling the tent with straw hats and turquoise blue hues, and they were a great audience. The clowns brought down the tent; it was a treat to see and hear.
During intermission boys and girls stood in the midway acting like typical teenagers, but in distinct groups, never mingling, and the boys were all swagger and attitude, and the girls all gigglish laughter, only they were dressed from head to toe in conservative Amish attire, making the spectacle all the more enjoyable for being so anachronic.
The boys all smoked, too, and some of the girls, and a cloud soon formed above the midway.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Heartbreak.
July 24, Middlefield.
Your heart just stops.
How do you take a child' mortal illness? What kind of a god does a mother turn to? There can be no justification.
The world spins inside your skin and dissolves, and in its place there is agony. Someone called me yesterday morning, out of the blue, to tell me that Nicolas could have eye cancer; he had seen a picture of him on my blog where the pupil in one of Nicolas' eyes was white, he said that could be a sign that there was something severely wrong. He talked about eye cancer, I listened in growing disbelief, thanked him for his call. I looked up online and found that indeed the flash picture taken of Nicolas during his first birthday party, buried like a time bomb, back in April of 2008, perfectly matched the ones on the web sites dedicated to retinoblastoma.
We went to the doctor this morning and he's fine.
The world filled with color, breathing is no longer a conscious effort.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The way we are.
July 23, Cochoranton.
It has become part of life on the road by now, as far as we can remember, the incessant rain, pouring like last night and into the morning drive, storming like the day before, drizzling sometimes, but always there it seems since we left the Rio Grande valley back in March, always there for a fact since the beginning of June, following us like a faithful fan, in truth working to the circus' advantage most of the time for kids out of school for the summer don't have much else to do but come to the show when it rains and rains in those small towns.
No complaints then, not even with the pan on the bed to collect the water from the leaks, no complaints then, just the raindrops on the roof, the way everything shines so, even with the mud, towing the trucks over and over again, the discomfort, the extra work. During our audio interview Casey said how he gets wishing he were doing some other work when he's stuck on the side of the road in the rain, say, only to love it all over again the next day, mud and all.
Circus people are like that, this is their life, it's tougher than most and they don't know how it could be any different.
It makes them stubbornly endearing.
It has become part of life on the road by now, as far as we can remember, the incessant rain, pouring like last night and into the morning drive, storming like the day before, drizzling sometimes, but always there it seems since we left the Rio Grande valley back in March, always there for a fact since the beginning of June, following us like a faithful fan, in truth working to the circus' advantage most of the time for kids out of school for the summer don't have much else to do but come to the show when it rains and rains in those small towns.
No complaints then, not even with the pan on the bed to collect the water from the leaks, no complaints then, just the raindrops on the roof, the way everything shines so, even with the mud, towing the trucks over and over again, the discomfort, the extra work. During our audio interview Casey said how he gets wishing he were doing some other work when he's stuck on the side of the road in the rain, say, only to love it all over again the next day, mud and all.
Circus people are like that, this is their life, it's tougher than most and they don't know how it could be any different.
It makes them stubbornly endearing.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Catapult.
July 22, Union City.
Same town, same place as last year - and I got a jolt as I turned into the street leading to the lot this morning for then it was yesterday.
Same town, same place as last year - and I got a jolt as I turned into the street leading to the lot this morning for then it was yesterday.
Familiar territory.
July 21, Warren.
We're re-entered Walmart country, as Tavana noted the other day. The warehouses will now be as familiar as road signs, inexorably dotting the landscape all the way to the Pacific ocean.
We're re-entered Walmart country, as Tavana noted the other day. The warehouses will now be as familiar as road signs, inexorably dotting the landscape all the way to the Pacific ocean.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
More rain?
July 21, Warren.
Chris after parking me under a steady downpour: What would we do without rain?
Chris after parking me under a steady downpour: What would we do without rain?
Monday, July 20, 2009
Department of roadside sightings.
July 20, Busti.
Leaving Phelps: Dave's not here! painted in green letters on a barn door. This morning: a big yard sign saying Hungry, with an arrow underneath it pointing to nowhere in particular.
Leaving Phelps: Dave's not here! painted in green letters on a barn door. This morning: a big yard sign saying Hungry, with an arrow underneath it pointing to nowhere in particular.
After the show.
July 19, Warsaw.
The crew starts taking down the tent the minute the last person in the public has left.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Pato - Studies #1 and 2.
July 18, Lima.
Pato, Ryan's duck, likes to get his belly tickled. Steve obliges.
Dylan's job.
July 18, Lima.
In addition to hugging trees Dylan likes to pick wild flowers (like mother, like son.)
He also has a job at the circus now.
He handles out the U.S. flags and cowboy ropes performers use in the finale and puts them back in their box afterwards. He takes it all very seriously.
Meanwhile Nicolas goes wild on the backstage truck's platform.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Historic tour (on the house.)
July 18, Lima.
For us this trip has turned into a historic home viewing tour.
Every morning we marvel at one gorgeous Victorian, Italianate or Greek revival house after another (even Castro has joined in) as we drive by through small towns on our morning jump. After Massachusetts, New York state has been a cornucopia, one town after another lined with stately beauties, remnants of high times past.
The Madison Building, in Stamford, New York.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Downgrade and upbeat.
July 16, Tully.
The brakes started smoking bad the other day driving down the mountain from Stamford so the trip this morning, with its three downgrades, made me a little nervous. We made it fine but it seemed to go on forever.
Upon arriving here people started streaming in past the trailers to see the tent go up and several women surrounded by small children stopped to say hello and ask about what it was like to be in the circus with a family and we chatted, and it was good to be reminded of the kinship behind our difference, the universal bond of mothers the world over, the power of a shared smile over our children's demands.
The brakes started smoking bad the other day driving down the mountain from Stamford so the trip this morning, with its three downgrades, made me a little nervous. We made it fine but it seemed to go on forever.
Upon arriving here people started streaming in past the trailers to see the tent go up and several women surrounded by small children stopped to say hello and ask about what it was like to be in the circus with a family and we chatted, and it was good to be reminded of the kinship behind our difference, the universal bond of mothers the world over, the power of a shared smile over our children's demands.
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