A trailer with a view.

April 10, Ironton, Missouri (31 miles, Lions Club grounds.)

A man with a purpose.

April 9, Potosi.

Filet mignon.

April 9, Potosi.

Because we're been freezing our arses these past few days (it went down to minus something on Monday night) we at the Kelly Miller Circus have been given the royal treatment: the generator is on every night.

A trailer with a view.

April 9, Potosi, Missouri (34 miles, fairgrounds.)

A trailer with a view.

April 8, Sullivan, Missouri (32 miles, Eagles Club grounds.)

Odd ball.

April 7, St. James.

We froze our arses yesterday.
As it got better in the afternoon Eric Fernandes, Jason (in the back,) Armando and one of the crew guys took to the courts in between acts.

A departure.

April 7, St. James.

The Cainan family left this morning for home in Paris, Texas, as Natalie's baby is due in just a week.
I'm looking forward to seeing the three of them plus one soon.

A trailer with a view.

April 7, St. James, Missouri (58 miles, Nelson Heart park.)

The remains of the night.

April 6, Houston.

Today is John Moss' birthday; the Moss family threw a small party last night in their trailer. The Fernandes were there and also Courtney, who is recuperating from a bad sinus infection and has not been able to work for two days now.
John got a birthday sticker from his eldest son, Johnnie, that read "I'm the Boss."

A trailer with a view.

April 6, Houston, Missouri (67 miles, C of C grounds.)

An old friend's fight.

April 5, Ava.

My friend Lisa lives in Republic, a small town near Springfield, Missouri, an hour away from here. The last time we saw each other was fourteen years ago. I drove along deserted Ozarks roads to visit her and her partner today (the church parking lots were full.)
Lisa was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last year after a doctor's visit to treat what she thought was a tendinitis.
She later realized she had had MS symptoms since her early twenties: tingling sensations in her limbs, difficulty swallowing sometimes, piercing pain to one side of the head, all misdiagnosed, telltale dots that nobody knew enough to connect. Because the disease was detected so late in her life, she says, it is now more difficult to slow its progression.
Lisa has had to quit her job. On bad days she has trouble moving around and cannot walk without a cane, and is sometimes in excruciating pain. Simple tasks become overwhelming even on good days. But she is the same as back when she was my boss at the annual photojournalism contest held at the University of Missouri-Columbia, when we worked together bent over slides for hours on end; she's funny and quick and warm, and so is Carol, her partner of many years.
They told me the story of Lisa's struggling with MS, and also that new drugs that are able to stop the disease, not just slow it down, are available in Europe but remain without the reach of MS patients in the U.S. for lack of FDA approval, despite having been proven safe and effective. The talk show host Montel, who has MS, goes to Europe regularly to get treatment, they told me. He's wealthy and can afford it but for the majority of MS patients, like Lisa, stopping the progress of MS' debilitating symptoms remains unattainable. Lisa and Carol think it's all part of a conspiracy by the pharmaceutical companies to keep the MS patients' community milking cow going, making lots of money for their labs.
The wanted to come see the show but Lisa started feeling pain in her shins and they had to relent.
Maybe next year, she said.
How will she fare next year if she doesn't get the drugs she needs?

Carol (seated) and Lisa at the kitchen table.

A trailer with a view.

April 5, Ava, Missouri (59 miles, fairgrounds.)

Forward.

April 4, Mountain Home.

In the circus parking lot there was a car all decked out in bumper stickers, one of which read:
After the last tree has died, after the last fish has perished, after the last river has been poisoned we will realize that we can't eat money.
Cree proverb.
Who said Arkansas was a backward state?

Out of order.

April 3, Mountain Home.

On highway 62 outside of Ash Flat.

A trailer with a (finished) view.

April 3, Mountain Home.

An hour and a half later - and a better reflection of what we'll see out the window for the next 40 hours or so (we're staying in Mountain Home two days.)

A trailer with a view.

April 3, Mountain Home, Arkansas (57 miles, across from Arkansas State University campus.)

It's a boy!

April 2, Ash Flat.

On the route slip this morning:
IT'S A BOY! Congratulations to Armando and Natalia!
(and to Tavo for winning the weight contest!)

Norberto was born early yesterday morning by cesarean. He weighed eight pounds even.

A trailer with a view.

April 2, Ash Flat, Arkansas (84 miles, next to Tri-County supply.)

Let them have cake.

April 1, Heber Springs.

Nicolas circus birthday cake today with all the show children in attendance, and some of the Moms too. The party was almost scuttled by road mishaps; Raul's fuel pump went south outside of Little Rock and two hours went by before we could hit the road again, leaving Castro behind to do his wonders. We barely had time to go get the cake when we finally arrived.
It was the perfect lot to have a party, there was even a wooden picnic table by the trailer, and the sun was with us. Fridman spent the rest of the day changing the brake pads on the truck for it sounded like metal against metal on the way down the hill this morning - and it was.
Raul and Castro didn't make it here until almost show time.

Nota bene: I love it that the kids get all excited about the idea of a cake but don't actually like it. They'll kill for an apple but won't touch sweets, I like to think because I've made it a strict rule from the beginning not to give them any, in spite of the vocal indignation of almost everyone around me (including my own mother, who should know better.)
Then again I need only remember how long it'll be before they start school to know when that will end, and my Mommy-knows-best self-congratulations with it.

A trailer with a view.

April 1, Heber Springs, Arkansas (98 miles, fairgrounds.)