September 30, Oregon.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Road exclamations.
September 29, Burlington.
For a while this morning I drove behind an oversize load truck.
On the oversize load banner there was, on the left-hand side, a hand pointing to the left next to the word "Passing side," and, to the right-hand side, another hand pointing to the right next to the word "Suicide" followed by three exclamation points. In between could be read: "Thank you for driving like you belong behind the wheel," with four exclamation points.
I drove as if I didn't, taking a picture.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Follow-up.
September 28, Marseilles.
The case against the death penalty couldn't be better put.
Let's hope money talks, if morality won't.
The case against the death penalty couldn't be better put.
Let's hope money talks, if morality won't.
School of life.
September 28, Marseilles.
There were as many as nineteen kids traveling with the circus at some point this year but Dee Dee's classroom has now shrunk to a handful.
School takes place under the cook-house tent under rain, sun - or gale-like winds and cold. The weather report on the radio called for winds of up to sixty miles per hour today in northern Illinois, and the arrival of autumn chills; the kids were all bundled up and sipped hot chocolate to stay warm.
Eric.
September 28, Marseilles.
Dee Dee has been teaching Eric since he was five years old and freshly arrived from Brazil. He learned English with me, she said. He is now fluent in English and attends Hugo schools in the winter off-season.
Luis.
September 28, Marseilles.
Luis is the only student who doesn't speak English. He lags behind in class.
Sam.
September 28, Marseilles.
Dee Dee has no choice but to bring Sam to class as Teto is working raising the tent at the same time she teaches school every morning. Sam knows all the kids by name.
Marseilles.
September 28, Marseilles.
We moved out of Chicagoland this morning, and into the small town where Dee Dee's grandparents lived and are buried.
Marseille is the name (the original takes no s at the end) of a major city in the south of France, by the Mediterranean, the country's foremost commercial port, immigration hotbed and its most diverse cultural melting-pot beside Paris.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
One of us.
September 27, Lisle.
She left tonight after the last show.
So long Rebecca, see you down the road.
Sunday dinner.
September 27, Lisle.
Dinner is served between the shows in the circus, so on Sunday that means eating at four o'clock, before, in Patsy's case, rushing off to the office.
The custom comes from having to take down the cook house tent and clean the kitchen in time for taking down the tent after the second show. For those who don't have a private kitchen, like everyone on the crew, that means depending on the pie car, or home-made meals served by one of the families on the show, for an after-work snack at the end of the day. Josie used to do it, then Reyna when Josie was gone, but for a while now there hasn't been a pie car and the guys have to make do with gas station fare from, if they're lucky, around the corner.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Rosales.
September 24, Darien.
Julio and Deyanira Rosales came by for a visit today with their daughter Doricela. They are working at the Vasquez Circus and it is in the Chicago area as well these days.
I caught them as they were leaving, and the light was fast leaving too.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Legal horror.
September 23, Downers Grove.
The New Yorker gets to me late but it is still a remarkable treat.
What I read in the September 7th edition today about Todd Willingham's case made me ill and shattered the little faith I had left in the ability of this country's legal system to carry out exactly that - justice.
The New Yorker gets to me late but it is still a remarkable treat.
What I read in the September 7th edition today about Todd Willingham's case made me ill and shattered the little faith I had left in the ability of this country's legal system to carry out exactly that - justice.
Gallop.
September 23, Downers Grove.
Late into the morning I heard a gallop and looked out to the baseball diamond beyond our house to see Eric riding Ace, an eleven-year-old Percheron.
Last week Armando bought new horses and sent two others back to Hugo (Lucy, his mother, came up with Marcelino and dropped off Natalia and the baby too; they had left for hugo with Zefta and Renzo.)
Musings on futility.
September 23, Downers Grove.
The only problem really with living in a small travel trailer with kids is that once they've strewn the toys all over the floor there is no space left to walk (or sit.) My days are filled with pushing toys around in a futile attempt to clear a passage for the rest of the inopportune dwellers.
I don't know why I keep doing it, other than to prove a point lost on anyone but me, a sort of Mom Maginot line; it would be easier to just skip and dodge - a principle that also applies to life in general, come to think of it.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Laundry day.
September 22, Addison.
As often when it's close by, half the circus was at the laundromat, before and after us.
Break.
September 22, Addison.
As we headed off the lot to the laundromat next door I spotted the crew taking their morning break on the unfolded tent, a little earlier than usual.
The day is warm and muggy.
Not green.
September 22, Addison.
The name is ironic for there is nothing bucolic about this densely immigrant suburb of lower-end chain stores.
The name is ironic for there is nothing bucolic about this densely immigrant suburb of lower-end chain stores.
A stroll at the mall.
September 21, Vernon Hills.
The boys and I are prisoners of the mall.
I wanted to go walk around with them in the stroller this afternoon after working on the project but soon found out there is nowhere to cross the avenue and no sidewalks either. I walked across last night going over to the grocery store but that was really jaywalking because although there are lights where traffic stops, there is no marked pedestrian paths - you're simply not supposed to be out walking.
Malls I dislike, to say the least. The enclosed space makes me claustrophobic, the array of stores dizzy, the perfumes nauseous. Add the ghastly mix of music coming out of the stores and teenagers bumping into you and I want to run for my life.
Yet to the mall we were forced to retreat, and next to the playground were three toy stores judiciously located to make me want to run faster.
The boys and I are prisoners of the mall.
I wanted to go walk around with them in the stroller this afternoon after working on the project but soon found out there is nowhere to cross the avenue and no sidewalks either. I walked across last night going over to the grocery store but that was really jaywalking because although there are lights where traffic stops, there is no marked pedestrian paths - you're simply not supposed to be out walking.
Malls I dislike, to say the least. The enclosed space makes me claustrophobic, the array of stores dizzy, the perfumes nauseous. Add the ghastly mix of music coming out of the stores and teenagers bumping into you and I want to run for my life.
Yet to the mall we were forced to retreat, and next to the playground were three toy stores judiciously located to make me want to run faster.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Alejandro.
September 21, Vernon Hills.
Third time does it.
Perfect soft-box of a gray sky, no wind, ideal setting for an outdoor studio: the mall parking lot.
Trapeze impromptu.
September 20, Vernon Hills.
Rebecca was called upon to fill in for the Fernandes family today; Adilson doesn't feel well and they couldn't work.
She did a single trapeze act. She was nervous going in but didn't show it much.
It was awesome, she said coming out.
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