April 16, New Athens, Illinois (72 miles, Okwa Park parking lot.)
Saturday, April 16, 2011
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.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Fiesta.
April 9, Mountain Home.
The Poemas had a giant party tonight after the shows to celebrate both Cathy and Adrian's birthdays. Also Marcos and his son came up from Hugo to bring a truck over and take another back to winter quarters. They slept over at our house and left in the morning.
Saturday, April 09, 2011
The artists in the family.
April 9, Mountain Home.
Sara and I were talking and Dylan grabbed the camera.
The pictures I had just taken are not worth a penny, boring and predictable. His? Fresh, lovely. Dylan not only has a visual memory, but also a gift for anything visual I think, where Nicolas is all about orality (still the singer of the family.) Whatever their talents may prove to be, I am enjoying watching them develop their distinct skills and personalities, not to mention we've got great art for the trailer's walls.
A game of futbol.
April 8, Mountain Home.
Dylan loves to play soccer with Gordo and Nathan. Most of the times they tolerate him.
Friday, April 08, 2011
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Courtney news.
April 7, Batesville.
Courtney has been doing fine, her foot has heeled completely and she has jobs lined up until next summer.
It was so good to see her again. In spite of our considerable age and interest differences she's about the only friend I ever had on the show that I could sit down with for a cup of tea and chat the time away; we just connect. She's been working dates as a show girl with Rebecca for about a month; they were on their way for a Shrine date in Little Rock over the week end and stopped for a visit.
Until next time on the circus road.
The remains of the night (two years later.)
April 7, Batesville.
It's two years later, but John's still twenty-nine.
John's birthday.
April 7, Batesville.
It was John Moss' birthday yesterday and for the first time since we've been on this show they invited the whole circus over for the occasion. Courtney and Rebecca were also visiting for the day so it was good to unwind.
Wednesday, April 06, 2011
Tuesday, April 05, 2011
A good day.
April 5, Malvern.
Dylan did school this morning in the trailer, then Sam was at Gigi's and they both came over and made Playdo fish with the boys. Then everybody went on outside to play and they were there a long time, gathering caterpillars and playing in the mud. When the boys came home they crashed in a second, Dylan on his bed and Nicolas against my shoulder. They were out for almost three hours and I did some work.
A good day.
The spirit of America.
April 5, Malvern.
Two anonymous comments on "The incredible story of Brian's burn" had me spinning last night (we had no internet until yesterday.) Both wrote about my criticizing the American health care, the first ordering me to "go back to France" and the second saying that nothing was free.
Whoever wrote the second comment is right: the health care issue had no place in that post. This was Brian's story and Brian's story only, and it was disrespectful to Brian to have mixed it in there (I have changed the post accordingly.) Brian's story is the story of an incredible twist of fate, but also of grace, guts and resilience, a very American way of dealing with life's tough cards.
This is a country that I have loved passionately for over twenty years, warts and all. And in the end this is what this blog is about, this passion for America, the circus just a piece of the whole, the American people, the American landscape. I want to be Walt Whitman and sing its song, sing the mountain ranges and the California woods, the plains of Kansas and the pulse of New York, I want to be Faulkner and delve into the soul and the depths of the South, I want to be Jim Harrison and meander through the Western wilderness, I want to be Mark Twain and travel down the Mississippi, I want to be Walker Evans and celebrate the beauty of those left behind, Richard Avedon and paint the many faces of this land I have called home for half my life, and that I carry around wherever I am like a double skin, a country that elected Barack Obama, a nation I among many admire for the indomitable vitality that defines it and the courage it offers in adversity, but that one should never cease to challenge for its shortcomings, for that would be a disservice to its very spirit.
And health care is such an essential issue that it deserves all the debate we can give it.
No, there is no such thing as a free lunch (that great American expression,) and I certainly never suggested health care systems in other countries, France or otherwise, were free. The French system is paid for mainly through income taxes, which are lower for lower incomes but higher for higher incomes than in the US. Each country's system is very different from the other and all have many flaws, but each and everyone of them has in common that everyone is covered at a much lower overall cost than in the US. So it is mind-boggling for me, not to mention intensely frightening now that I have children, that this amazing country, one of the richest countries in the world, in both natural and human resources, is so incredibly behind on this issue, with millions uninsured and badly managed, skyrocketing costs. President Obama's bill was drained down to just a small step but it is nevertheless an important one, and I can only hope that it is only the beginning.
The second anonymous person went on to regret my "constant jabs at Christianity," and here I am left utterly baffled.
Never have I made a secret that I am an agnostic and have never believed in any gods, but neither have I ever intended to disparage Christianity or any other religions; they fascinate me, and inspire me with a deep respect. This sense of the numinous, from the Latin numina, or spirits, the foundation of all religions, this need of humanity from the beginning of times to find the source of their wonder, has always held a strong hold on my searching, doubting mind. So the comment had me almost sleepless last night trying to figure out where I would even have mentioned Christianity; all I could find was an entry two years ago on the Fourth of July about my kids having to recite the pledge of allegiance, and say "so help me god," an issue on which I have come to a change of mind since.
So coming out of hiding would be courteous but also useful: I could take a good nap, and then we could have an open, raucous, gutsy debate - the American way.
Two anonymous comments on "The incredible story of Brian's burn" had me spinning last night (we had no internet until yesterday.) Both wrote about my criticizing the American health care, the first ordering me to "go back to France" and the second saying that nothing was free.
Whoever wrote the second comment is right: the health care issue had no place in that post. This was Brian's story and Brian's story only, and it was disrespectful to Brian to have mixed it in there (I have changed the post accordingly.) Brian's story is the story of an incredible twist of fate, but also of grace, guts and resilience, a very American way of dealing with life's tough cards.
This is a country that I have loved passionately for over twenty years, warts and all. And in the end this is what this blog is about, this passion for America, the circus just a piece of the whole, the American people, the American landscape. I want to be Walt Whitman and sing its song, sing the mountain ranges and the California woods, the plains of Kansas and the pulse of New York, I want to be Faulkner and delve into the soul and the depths of the South, I want to be Jim Harrison and meander through the Western wilderness, I want to be Mark Twain and travel down the Mississippi, I want to be Walker Evans and celebrate the beauty of those left behind, Richard Avedon and paint the many faces of this land I have called home for half my life, and that I carry around wherever I am like a double skin, a country that elected Barack Obama, a nation I among many admire for the indomitable vitality that defines it and the courage it offers in adversity, but that one should never cease to challenge for its shortcomings, for that would be a disservice to its very spirit.
And health care is such an essential issue that it deserves all the debate we can give it.
No, there is no such thing as a free lunch (that great American expression,) and I certainly never suggested health care systems in other countries, France or otherwise, were free. The French system is paid for mainly through income taxes, which are lower for lower incomes but higher for higher incomes than in the US. Each country's system is very different from the other and all have many flaws, but each and everyone of them has in common that everyone is covered at a much lower overall cost than in the US. So it is mind-boggling for me, not to mention intensely frightening now that I have children, that this amazing country, one of the richest countries in the world, in both natural and human resources, is so incredibly behind on this issue, with millions uninsured and badly managed, skyrocketing costs. President Obama's bill was drained down to just a small step but it is nevertheless an important one, and I can only hope that it is only the beginning.
The second anonymous person went on to regret my "constant jabs at Christianity," and here I am left utterly baffled.
Never have I made a secret that I am an agnostic and have never believed in any gods, but neither have I ever intended to disparage Christianity or any other religions; they fascinate me, and inspire me with a deep respect. This sense of the numinous, from the Latin numina, or spirits, the foundation of all religions, this need of humanity from the beginning of times to find the source of their wonder, has always held a strong hold on my searching, doubting mind. So the comment had me almost sleepless last night trying to figure out where I would even have mentioned Christianity; all I could find was an entry two years ago on the Fourth of July about my kids having to recite the pledge of allegiance, and say "so help me god," an issue on which I have come to a change of mind since.
So coming out of hiding would be courteous but also useful: I could take a good nap, and then we could have an open, raucous, gutsy debate - the American way.
Morning drives.
April 3, Idabel.
The morning drives, alone with the road and the coming day, how I missed them I suddenly discover, incredulous.
The morning drives, alone with the road and the coming day, how I missed them I suddenly discover, incredulous.
A circus tribe and a party.
April 2, Hugo.
Last chance to get stuff out of the trailer; Fridman came over and we worked all morning. Then laundry, errands, and Argio's birthday party after the shows.
Everybody was there, invited by the Loyal and Fusco families, a world-spanning circus tribe. The youngest of the Loyals turned two.
Moving.
April 1, Kingston.
We jumped to Hugo one day ahead so I can have more time to move from the trailer into the motor home.
I worked til after midnight, trying to fit into a smaller space ten years of my life, while the kids played with the toys we had left behind. The trailer seemed huge, a palace.
Our friend Marcos came over for dinner with his son and we had leftover pizza and veggies from Nicolas' birthday. A familiar face, and this strange place feels a little bit more like home.
We jumped to Hugo one day ahead so I can have more time to move from the trailer into the motor home.
I worked til after midnight, trying to fit into a smaller space ten years of my life, while the kids played with the toys we had left behind. The trailer seemed huge, a palace.
Our friend Marcos came over for dinner with his son and we had leftover pizza and veggies from Nicolas' birthday. A familiar face, and this strange place feels a little bit more like home.
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