April 30, Madison, Indiana (33 miles, high school grounds.)
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Sunny.
April 29, Charlestown.
Mr North arrived today from Ireland and all the circus was invited to an early Cinco de Mayo celebrations at a restaurant owned by Tavana's youngest sister here in Charlestown. It hasn't rained yet today.
Mr North arrived today from Ireland and all the circus was invited to an early Cinco de Mayo celebrations at a restaurant owned by Tavana's youngest sister here in Charlestown. It hasn't rained yet today.
Repeat (an unexpected day off.)
April 28, Charlestown.
Sometimes life gets in the way of the circus - and sometimes it's not so bad.
Tell City was canceled; they are sandbagging, trying to save their town. Last night was rough, trailers rocking in the wind like feathers, but nothing to compare with the devastation down South. We had to wait until mid-day to leave the lot as we had to find a dry one in Charlestown, and the one we found, on school grounds, couldn't let us in until late in the afternoon.
So the impromptu day off unfolded as we waited and the kids made playground of the parking lot and the sun came out. Call it a party, under the circumstances.
Later we drove here, a long jump and a scenic road not made for trucks, flooding everywhere, making the landscape unexpectedly beautiful, and we arrived just short of more rain, but safe, and with an evening to spare. Call it a good day.
Later still we went to the movies, and we ran into the Poemas, Oscar, and others; we stuffed ourselves silly on pop-corn and the kids went to sleep in our laps.
Sometimes life gets in the way of the circus - and sometimes it's not so bad.
Tell City was canceled; they are sandbagging, trying to save their town. Last night was rough, trailers rocking in the wind like feathers, but nothing to compare with the devastation down South. We had to wait until mid-day to leave the lot as we had to find a dry one in Charlestown, and the one we found, on school grounds, couldn't let us in until late in the afternoon.
So the impromptu day off unfolded as we waited and the kids made playground of the parking lot and the sun came out. Call it a party, under the circumstances.
Later we drove here, a long jump and a scenic road not made for trucks, flooding everywhere, making the landscape unexpectedly beautiful, and we arrived just short of more rain, but safe, and with an evening to spare. Call it a good day.
Later still we went to the movies, and we ran into the Poemas, Oscar, and others; we stuffed ourselves silly on pop-corn and the kids went to sleep in our laps.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Our lot.
April 26, Jasonville.
It is becoming old, the rain not stopping, the waiting for another lot to be found, the muddy messes, like a flashback to the 2009 season, the Rain Season.
This morning we parked by the road and sat, and sat, and sat, and finally drove on a few hundred yards to an abandoned grain elevator. There is a big pile of decomposing corn backstage, giant puddles of stinking muddy waters, broken bricks, rusted metal pipes, and a circus.
Easter.
April 24, Clinton.
Two day stand, with a day off (today,) an Easter egg hunt in a soaked field and the Easter bonnet contest at the Chinese restaurant where the circus was treated to a free lunch, our annual Kelly Miller Circus Easter bonanza.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Darrell Hawkins.
April 23, Marshall.
Darrell is eighty-three years old.
He's on the road with Kelly Miller for the fun of it. He joined the circus at fifty-eight after a lifetime of ranching, barbering and other occupations, and he does a rope cracking act that fits right into the Western theme of the show.
The Easter eggs.
April 22, Mount Carmel.
The kids painted Easter eggs this morning at school.
It looks like we'll have the Easter egg hunt on Monday as rain is likely until then, and more strong storms too.
Friday, April 22, 2011
A hell of a drive.
April 22, Mount Carmel.
Tavana was writing about the road in the Mark Twain National Forest the other day, saying how she had to pry her fingers open from the steering wheel when she finally made it to the lot. Other than the engine giving out at every hill and finally dying in the middle of one with a line of trucks behind me, I didn't find that road particularly hard to drive, actually I would have rather enjoyed it with a fully functioning vehicle. But today, today was my turn to pry my hands open from the steering wheel finger by finger. Driving in the dark, with winds and rain pounding and the motor home swerving this way and that on the highway, now that's my road nightmare.
One day at a time, goes the saying.
These rainy stormy days make that day after day after circus day.
Tavana was writing about the road in the Mark Twain National Forest the other day, saying how she had to pry her fingers open from the steering wheel when she finally made it to the lot. Other than the engine giving out at every hill and finally dying in the middle of one with a line of trucks behind me, I didn't find that road particularly hard to drive, actually I would have rather enjoyed it with a fully functioning vehicle. But today, today was my turn to pry my hands open from the steering wheel finger by finger. Driving in the dark, with winds and rain pounding and the motor home swerving this way and that on the highway, now that's my road nightmare.
One day at a time, goes the saying.
These rainy stormy days make that day after day after circus day.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
The show goes on.
April 19, Pana.
One of the worst storms I've lived through, a tornado threat, running for your life, but there was a show.
Right after we made it safe to the hospital and it appeared that the storm had lightened a little, Fridman called John to see if he was safe. He was told there would be an hour-long show in no time. And so there was, and there she was, the same woman who had served juice and cookies to the kids in the basement (she had been stuck at her workplace on her way to the circus when the storm hit.)
Running for your life one minute and getting into your costume the next, that's circus life for you, folks.
One of the worst storms I've lived through, a tornado threat, running for your life, but there was a show.
Right after we made it safe to the hospital and it appeared that the storm had lightened a little, Fridman called John to see if he was safe. He was told there would be an hour-long show in no time. And so there was, and there she was, the same woman who had served juice and cookies to the kids in the basement (she had been stuck at her workplace on her way to the circus when the storm hit.)
Running for your life one minute and getting into your costume the next, that's circus life for you, folks.
Running for your life.
April 19, Pana.
At six o'clock tonight a severe storm hit.
It came so fast the siren was on before I realized what was happening, all of a sudden a wall of darkness approaching and the tornado warning siren, and I rushed home and it went on and on, we stayed in the trailer because by that time the lightning and hail were bad and walking through the storm could have been dangerous, but the siren went on and as I was looking out the window listening to the radio for news there was a fireball behind the house across the street and then huge flames shooting up, we learned later that it was a transformer that had blown up, and Fridman was calling John, then Sara, to try to see what they were doing and if they were safe, Sara had run to the hospital, one block away, and so when the hail stopped a little we decided to run there too, running because the car was too far away, and here they were, the Fuscos and the Poemas, and town people too, in the hospital basement, and you catch yourself breathing again, and even smiling, there are all the familiar faces and they are safe, and soon the worst of the storm was tampering off.
The rest of the circus had gathered under a giant gazebo, by the cookhouse, apparently because there was a tornado shelter under it (but it was locked.) John was there.
Between walking among lightning and hail and being in a trailer when a tornado hits it was an excruciating decision but, luckily, one we made for nothing but getting wet as a rag.
Before the storm I had let the kids play in the mud and it was joy itself to watch them.
At six o'clock tonight a severe storm hit.
It came so fast the siren was on before I realized what was happening, all of a sudden a wall of darkness approaching and the tornado warning siren, and I rushed home and it went on and on, we stayed in the trailer because by that time the lightning and hail were bad and walking through the storm could have been dangerous, but the siren went on and as I was looking out the window listening to the radio for news there was a fireball behind the house across the street and then huge flames shooting up, we learned later that it was a transformer that had blown up, and Fridman was calling John, then Sara, to try to see what they were doing and if they were safe, Sara had run to the hospital, one block away, and so when the hail stopped a little we decided to run there too, running because the car was too far away, and here they were, the Fuscos and the Poemas, and town people too, in the hospital basement, and you catch yourself breathing again, and even smiling, there are all the familiar faces and they are safe, and soon the worst of the storm was tampering off.
The rest of the circus had gathered under a giant gazebo, by the cookhouse, apparently because there was a tornado shelter under it (but it was locked.) John was there.
Between walking among lightning and hail and being in a trailer when a tornado hits it was an excruciating decision but, luckily, one we made for nothing but getting wet as a rag.
Before the storm I had let the kids play in the mud and it was joy itself to watch them.
Off.
April 18, Litchfield.
I drove up to Jacksonville for the day and spent the night at Liliana's.
(From left, Julie, Liliana, and Zuzana.)
Friends.
April 17, Jerseyville.
My friends from Jacksonville came down to visit.
Tiffany and Steve, Liliana, and time stops for friends you don't see that often, especially when you love them more every time.
We ended the precious short moment by going to dinner at a family restaurant down main street, and stepped into Americana, all red, white and blue kitsch and the kids in their Little League baseball outfits lined up in front of their ice-cream floats, the perfect picture for a perfect evening.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Bug.
April 17, Jerseyville.
Nicolas threw up water all day with clockwork regularity yesterday and I got really worried that he was going to get dangerously dehydrated and end up in the hospital with an IV in his arm, a repeat of two years ago. But at eight o'clock he peed, and again at midnight, so we knew he was getting some fluids in between the trips to the bathroom. There is a virus that's been going around in the circus in the past few days, making first Mariana, then Flaco, then many others sick, but so far everybody has recovered well. Only with young children you never know.
There was Doricela's and Franco Giovanni's birthday party outside last night but we couldn't go. Dylan desperately wanted to but then said he was going to rest for a little while, plopped down on his bed and was out for the night.
I yearned to follow but needed to watch Nicolas.
Today he is better; it's one o clock and he hasn't thrown up, but I make sure I give him little food and water at a time still.
Nicolas threw up water all day with clockwork regularity yesterday and I got really worried that he was going to get dangerously dehydrated and end up in the hospital with an IV in his arm, a repeat of two years ago. But at eight o'clock he peed, and again at midnight, so we knew he was getting some fluids in between the trips to the bathroom. There is a virus that's been going around in the circus in the past few days, making first Mariana, then Flaco, then many others sick, but so far everybody has recovered well. Only with young children you never know.
There was Doricela's and Franco Giovanni's birthday party outside last night but we couldn't go. Dylan desperately wanted to but then said he was going to rest for a little while, plopped down on his bed and was out for the night.
I yearned to follow but needed to watch Nicolas.
Today he is better; it's one o clock and he hasn't thrown up, but I make sure I give him little food and water at a time still.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
News.
April 16, New Athens.
The show was full yesterday but the day difficult for everyone.
Today it looks like it's going to snow. And Nicolas just threw up all over the bathroom rug, avoiding the toilet bowl by a few inches.
The show was full yesterday but the day difficult for everyone.
Today it looks like it's going to snow. And Nicolas just threw up all over the bathroom rug, avoiding the toilet bowl by a few inches.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Down the road.
April 15, De Soto.
Sometimes you don't have water; sometimes you don't have light. Today some of us have neither water nor light.
We are parked at the Knights of Columbus building and the circus is on another lot, half a mile down the road. There was a big storm this morning, the same storm that killed at least nine people in Oklahoma and Arkansas overnight and is now wrecking havoc in the south, and the grassy part of the lot, the same lot we were on last year, is too soft, so there isn't enough room for all of us. As we got into we parked at Walmart and waited two hours for the parking crew to figure things out.
So here we are, exiled up the road, the Mosses, the Fuscos, Lucky and Vickie and some of the office crew. For us it turned out good, for there was an outside faucet where we filled our water tank.
It does feel a bit lonely though.
Sometimes you don't have water; sometimes you don't have light. Today some of us have neither water nor light.
We are parked at the Knights of Columbus building and the circus is on another lot, half a mile down the road. There was a big storm this morning, the same storm that killed at least nine people in Oklahoma and Arkansas overnight and is now wrecking havoc in the south, and the grassy part of the lot, the same lot we were on last year, is too soft, so there isn't enough room for all of us. As we got into we parked at Walmart and waited two hours for the parking crew to figure things out.
So here we are, exiled up the road, the Mosses, the Fuscos, Lucky and Vickie and some of the office crew. For us it turned out good, for there was an outside faucet where we filled our water tank.
It does feel a bit lonely though.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
To Richard, in loving memory.
April 14, Farmington.
Our friend Richard Tuck, a gem of a man and a great circus fan, has died of cancer.
I am angry at the gods that take such a beautiful person away, leaving so many of us without the smile he gave us. He was generosity towards all, misfits and left-behinds, rich and poor, children and their grandmothers, people from here and from there, people from anywhere in this big wide world he embraced with insatiable gusto. He was loving life, his tremendous love of life, he was passion for the circus, which he supported in many ways, including landing a hand if he could to whichever circus performer needed it, he was laughter and dedication, he was an inspiration. You couldn't stop Richard, his generosity vanquished all, his mirth and fervor gathered all.
He was a good man, in the full sense of the word.
I'm sure he had some bad sides, like all of us, but we never got to see any of them. We only saw the scope of his spirit.
When Circus Chimera closed suddenly in the spring of 2007 he offered that we park our trailer in the parking lot of his office in El Cerrito, near San Francisco, and so we had the privilege of living at his side for a few months. Before us another circus person, Mike, the booking guy for Chimera, had been offered the same thing, and had stayed a few years. We used to joke that, if things went for us as they did for him, when Dylan and Nicolas would go to school and the teacher would ask them where they lived, they would answer "in Richard's parking lot."
It was a few enchanted months.
There was always a party, there was also constant work unfolding on his life project, Playland not-at-the-Beach, an amusement park that he dreamed up and built, in the back part of his office space, with his friends Frank and Tim and so many other volunteering their time because Richard would inspire you to do that, and which was modeled on the famous Playland at the Beach seaside park in San Francisco. There was always a smile, cookies and cake (he was famously rotund,) a joke, amid serious work and dreams being built. Friends would pop up at any time and would be always welcomed.
When he was told he had terminal cancer and only had a few months to live his reply was to laugh at the gods and not change a thing. "I'm going to party and have fun and if I only have months to go, what a way to live them!"
We are not alone in mourning our friend Richard but it doesn't make us any less sad.
Oh but no, that won't do.
We love you, Richard, and you're laughing along with us still.
Our friend Richard Tuck, a gem of a man and a great circus fan, has died of cancer.
I am angry at the gods that take such a beautiful person away, leaving so many of us without the smile he gave us. He was generosity towards all, misfits and left-behinds, rich and poor, children and their grandmothers, people from here and from there, people from anywhere in this big wide world he embraced with insatiable gusto. He was loving life, his tremendous love of life, he was passion for the circus, which he supported in many ways, including landing a hand if he could to whichever circus performer needed it, he was laughter and dedication, he was an inspiration. You couldn't stop Richard, his generosity vanquished all, his mirth and fervor gathered all.
He was a good man, in the full sense of the word.
I'm sure he had some bad sides, like all of us, but we never got to see any of them. We only saw the scope of his spirit.
When Circus Chimera closed suddenly in the spring of 2007 he offered that we park our trailer in the parking lot of his office in El Cerrito, near San Francisco, and so we had the privilege of living at his side for a few months. Before us another circus person, Mike, the booking guy for Chimera, had been offered the same thing, and had stayed a few years. We used to joke that, if things went for us as they did for him, when Dylan and Nicolas would go to school and the teacher would ask them where they lived, they would answer "in Richard's parking lot."
It was a few enchanted months.
There was always a party, there was also constant work unfolding on his life project, Playland not-at-the-Beach, an amusement park that he dreamed up and built, in the back part of his office space, with his friends Frank and Tim and so many other volunteering their time because Richard would inspire you to do that, and which was modeled on the famous Playland at the Beach seaside park in San Francisco. There was always a smile, cookies and cake (he was famously rotund,) a joke, amid serious work and dreams being built. Friends would pop up at any time and would be always welcomed.
When he was told he had terminal cancer and only had a few months to live his reply was to laugh at the gods and not change a thing. "I'm going to party and have fun and if I only have months to go, what a way to live them!"
We are not alone in mourning our friend Richard but it doesn't make us any less sad.
Oh but no, that won't do.
We love you, Richard, and you're laughing along with us still.
Happy birthday, Georgia!
April 14, Farmington.
On the route slip this morning it said "Happy birthday, Georgia Cainan!"
Natalie, Toot and Georgia are at the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus this year.
On the route slip this morning it said "Happy birthday, Georgia Cainan!"
Natalie, Toot and Georgia are at the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus this year.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
The longest one hundred miles.
April 13, Potosi.
So here we go, it's a little after eleven and we just made to the lot after leaving at about six this morning.
The gas pump problem became so bad I had to stop and restart the engine going up a hill with three trucks behind me. We would stop the engine and let the pump cool down, then set out again, but the more we went the less time it took for the engine to start coughing and slowing down again and I barely made it into town.
So here we go, it's a little after eleven and we just made to the lot after leaving at about six this morning.
The gas pump problem became so bad I had to stop and restart the engine going up a hill with three trucks behind me. We would stop the engine and let the pump cool down, then set out again, but the more we went the less time it took for the engine to start coughing and slowing down again and I barely made it into town.
Casey's new tiger.
April 12, Redford.
Casey has a new tiger and it's white.
Her name is Serri, she is five years old and she was given to him by the Vazquez Circus (the Vazquez show apparently did away with their tiger act.) White tigers are not a different specie than other panthera tigri, they just show a color variation through breeding.
Serri has blue eyes.
The show.
April 12, Redford.
Here finally are some pictures from the 2011 edition of the Kelly Miller show.
More to come.
Reynolds county.
April 12, Redford.
Some may call this hidden valley the middle of nowhere.
To me it is a piece of my paradise.
We are at the Reynolds county fairgrounds, in south-central Missouri, and there is nothing around for miles on end (and no internet either, of course) but the postcard-perfect Ozarks and the Mark Twain National Forest.
The two shows were full.
Some may call this hidden valley the middle of nowhere.
To me it is a piece of my paradise.
We are at the Reynolds county fairgrounds, in south-central Missouri, and there is nothing around for miles on end (and no internet either, of course) but the postcard-perfect Ozarks and the Mark Twain National Forest.
The two shows were full.
Dee Dee's back.
April 12, Redford.
Dee Dee came back today. She had been in the hospital since Friday, when she started feeling bad after eating at a fast-food restaurant for lunch. At first they diagnosed her with inflamed intestines, then told her it was most probably food poisoning.
She looks tired but is better.
Dee Dee came back today. She had been in the hospital since Friday, when she started feeling bad after eating at a fast-food restaurant for lunch. At first they diagnosed her with inflamed intestines, then told her it was most probably food poisoning.
She looks tired but is better.
Things forgotten.
April 12, Redford.
Things of no particular interest I forgot to record along the way.
For the first week or so I was back I couldn't drive because my license had expired some time when I was in France. Radar drove, and be careful what you wish for: I used to fantasize about having a chauffeur for the morning drives, how perfect it would make my circus life, and I realized that it was driving by myself that I enjoyed the most, not watching the scenery. Sometimes you just need to be in the driver's seat.
Mountain Home, down in Arkansas, must be a good place to live despite its being in the middle of nowhere, because for a town of eleven thousand people there are two well-stocked health food stores doing excellent business if one can tell by several visits on a week end in the month of April. I knew of one store from previous years and was eager to go back to it for nowhere else on the whole circus season road can you find that heavenly roasted peanut butter, made fresh every day from their own bulk organic peanuts (you can do it yourself, too.) Another store I discovered thanks to a couple of organic farmers who were selling plants and produce at a stand downtown on Saturday (their farm is called Crossroads Gardens and it's got a web site.)
Finally, I am slowly getting reconciled with the motor home, its bathroom the size of a makeup cabinet, its office space competing for kitchen table inch footage, when it's not floor space, its bedroom (but I should say bed, as there is no bedroom, much to the point) rivaling a sideshow for privacy - especially on days when it's pouring rain outside just in time for the morning routine.
But I must be positive.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A frog's journey.
April 11, Salem.
Armando's truck had some problems at the start of the drive and we stopped along the highway coming out of town. There in the stormy darkness of dawn I cheered giddily.
As the wait dragged on and I was getting impatient I looked up and there was a frog, half-way across the four-lane highway. It jumped along in bursts and soon made it to the other side unharmed, by some grace of nature escaping the morning traffic.
That little frog was all I cared about, it was the wonder of a Michanlangelo painting, of a Leonard Cohen song, of the universe in its mystery and the why and the how, it was getting through the day, unharmed and giddy with the happiness of life's intricate miracles.
It is, still, and I can take it with me through my journey.
Armando's truck had some problems at the start of the drive and we stopped along the highway coming out of town. There in the stormy darkness of dawn I cheered giddily.
As the wait dragged on and I was getting impatient I looked up and there was a frog, half-way across the four-lane highway. It jumped along in bursts and soon made it to the other side unharmed, by some grace of nature escaping the morning traffic.
That little frog was all I cared about, it was the wonder of a Michanlangelo painting, of a Leonard Cohen song, of the universe in its mystery and the why and the how, it was getting through the day, unharmed and giddy with the happiness of life's intricate miracles.
It is, still, and I can take it with me through my journey.
Car trouble.
April 11, Salem.
What an enchanting drive this would have been under a rising sun, rolling hills, awakening spring. Just like last week in Arkansas, we had pouring rain and it stopped shortly before we got to the lot, as these things will go.
It would also have been better without engine troubles. Yesterday the motor home all but stopped in an intersection, coughing its way to extinction. According to Castro the gas pump is bad, but it so happens, as these things will go, you need an empty tank to work on the pump and the troubles began the day after we filled the truck up.
What an enchanting drive this would have been under a rising sun, rolling hills, awakening spring. Just like last week in Arkansas, we had pouring rain and it stopped shortly before we got to the lot, as these things will go.
It would also have been better without engine troubles. Yesterday the motor home all but stopped in an intersection, coughing its way to extinction. According to Castro the gas pump is bad, but it so happens, as these things will go, you need an empty tank to work on the pump and the troubles began the day after we filled the truck up.
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