July 6, North Andover.
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Double baptism.
July 6, North Andover.
Two-year-old Argio and six-month-old Nicolas were baptized today at Saint Michale's Catholic Church in North Andover by Father Jerry Logan, the national circus chaplain.
Tuesday, July 05, 2011
A trailer with a view.
July 5, North Andover, Massachusetts (58 miles, North Andover middle school.)
The Fourth.
July 4, Penacook.
Great Fourth of July party and bike parade contest, where judges Brian and LeBron awarded a prize for as many categories as there were contestants ("Best man in a Cage" went to Casey; even Nathan won as "Best Non-decorated Non-Participant.") We were all laughing our head off.
Fridman had decorated Nicolas' tricycle with recycled Coke and Pepsi bottles trailing in the back, and Carolyn put all sorts of red-white-and-blue ribbons on Dylan's bike.
Monday, July 04, 2011
Doubles.
July 4, Penacook.
There is a bike decoration parade after the last show to celebrate the Fourth. Carolyn helped the kids set up their bikes this morning.
Laconia.
July 4, Penacook.
We moved last night after the shows because of the rain.
It was three very good days in Laconia, jam-packed full houses every show but one, great lot and location. The happy days were marred by a little circus fracas, and very sad news for a dear circus friend.
We moved last night after the shows because of the rain.
It was three very good days in Laconia, jam-packed full houses every show but one, great lot and location. The happy days were marred by a little circus fracas, and very sad news for a dear circus friend.
Sunday, July 03, 2011
Yard sales.
July 2, Laconia.
I am your economy's worst nightmare.
It has been years since I bought anything new: other than food, shoes and underwear, next to nothing I buy comes from a store. Used is the word, out of principle (it's already out there so why not reuse and save a little precious energy and resources?) but really, let's be honest, because both Fridman and I enjoy the treasure chase so much.
The one store we patronize religiously is called Goodwill.
Yard sales, moving sales, porch sales, barn sales, tag sales, basement sales, church sales, garage sales, we've been to all and we love them all. Each one is like a little Christmas in a ride, you open your presents in the morning and you don't know what you'll find. Looking through people's stuff, the proverbial window into their lives, the books they read, or won't, the linen nobody uses anymore, the must-have clothes the teenager won't be caught dead wearing now, and walking away with that scooter we've been coveting since Dylan had his stolen last year (another garage-sale buy, of course,) a hundred-year-old trunk covered in dust and drowned memories, Christmas ornaments, a world history book's edition from 1880, the leather soft like paper, made-in-England, Stratford's "Scenes from the Shakespeare Country" plates, pale rose, like so much family history ("these were my mother's, they're old.")
No finding these in a store.
We are your economy's worst nightmare.
I am your economy's worst nightmare.
It has been years since I bought anything new: other than food, shoes and underwear, next to nothing I buy comes from a store. Used is the word, out of principle (it's already out there so why not reuse and save a little precious energy and resources?) but really, let's be honest, because both Fridman and I enjoy the treasure chase so much.
The one store we patronize religiously is called Goodwill.
Yard sales, moving sales, porch sales, barn sales, tag sales, basement sales, church sales, garage sales, we've been to all and we love them all. Each one is like a little Christmas in a ride, you open your presents in the morning and you don't know what you'll find. Looking through people's stuff, the proverbial window into their lives, the books they read, or won't, the linen nobody uses anymore, the must-have clothes the teenager won't be caught dead wearing now, and walking away with that scooter we've been coveting since Dylan had his stolen last year (another garage-sale buy, of course,) a hundred-year-old trunk covered in dust and drowned memories, Christmas ornaments, a world history book's edition from 1880, the leather soft like paper, made-in-England, Stratford's "Scenes from the Shakespeare Country" plates, pale rose, like so much family history ("these were my mother's, they're old.")
No finding these in a store.
We are your economy's worst nightmare.
Marketing strategies for all occasions.
July 2, Laconia.
The sign at Laconia Monument, next to Union Cemetery: "Drive safely. We can wait."
The sign at Laconia Monument, next to Union Cemetery: "Drive safely. We can wait."
Saturday, July 02, 2011
Friday, July 01, 2011
New Hampshire.
July 1, Laconia.
This the Kelly Miller Circus' first time in New Hampshire, and our first time too.
At the first rest area on the highway up here there was a giant liquor store, closed at that time of the morning, and beer bottles on the empty parking lot. Seat belts are not mandatory here, and that reminds me of my friend Florence's work as an emergency room nurse in Paris when she was in medical school, the endless combination of injuries she witnessed due to people not wearing their seat belts, even when they were just going around the block.
There was only one show today, at seven-thirty, and while Fridman and the kids followed the Poemas to a park up in the mountains, where the Hanneford Circus is also playing, I savored a few hours kids-free.
There are beautiful, impressive old houses in this town, and I walked downtown and marveled. There is also an impressive list of yard sales, can't wait till tomorrow.
This the Kelly Miller Circus' first time in New Hampshire, and our first time too.
At the first rest area on the highway up here there was a giant liquor store, closed at that time of the morning, and beer bottles on the empty parking lot. Seat belts are not mandatory here, and that reminds me of my friend Florence's work as an emergency room nurse in Paris when she was in medical school, the endless combination of injuries she witnessed due to people not wearing their seat belts, even when they were just going around the block.
There was only one show today, at seven-thirty, and while Fridman and the kids followed the Poemas to a park up in the mountains, where the Hanneford Circus is also playing, I savored a few hours kids-free.
There are beautiful, impressive old houses in this town, and I walked downtown and marveled. There is also an impressive list of yard sales, can't wait till tomorrow.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The skater.
June 29, Pepperell.
We were here two years ago, on the same lot; at first it seemed like a new town, then the gazebo and skaters' park behind us brought back memories. Then the memories came rushing in.
I remember this kid in particular, maybe because he had such grace about him, he skated so effortlessly, he seemed to flow, not just skate, he appeared as absolutely in his own world as anyone could hope to be, he was skating, the others were parading, showing off, practicing, flirting. Here he was, two years later, the same place, the same group of kids congregating on an early summer day, almost a man now, but there was also a little of the intimations of life's complications to come about him now, the free-flowing gone, but not the grace, yet.
I almost had the urge to hold him, to wish time sucked out of his life so that it would not reach his lucky childhood's simplicity, before even the most privileged have to face life's intricate fights and delicate deceits.
Dylan was having the time of his life, hanging with the big boys, he'd found a helmet someone had left there, he moved in there with Gigi's scooter, in the morning when there wasn't that many kids around, but then I had to pry him out, he was just too small.
He is so small, he has a lot of time, he's at the cusp of things yet.
We were here two years ago, on the same lot; at first it seemed like a new town, then the gazebo and skaters' park behind us brought back memories. Then the memories came rushing in.
I remember this kid in particular, maybe because he had such grace about him, he skated so effortlessly, he seemed to flow, not just skate, he appeared as absolutely in his own world as anyone could hope to be, he was skating, the others were parading, showing off, practicing, flirting. Here he was, two years later, the same place, the same group of kids congregating on an early summer day, almost a man now, but there was also a little of the intimations of life's complications to come about him now, the free-flowing gone, but not the grace, yet.
I almost had the urge to hold him, to wish time sucked out of his life so that it would not reach his lucky childhood's simplicity, before even the most privileged have to face life's intricate fights and delicate deceits.
Dylan was having the time of his life, hanging with the big boys, he'd found a helmet someone had left there, he moved in there with Gigi's scooter, in the morning when there wasn't that many kids around, but then I had to pry him out, he was just too small.
He is so small, he has a lot of time, he's at the cusp of things yet.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The photographers.
June 28, Littleton.
There are no less than three photographers with us today, they're practically walking over each other.
They are a steady fixture along the circus seasons, the photographers, mostly men, they come and go with expected regularity, attracted by our exotic beauty no doubt, Mary Ellen Mark, maybe, or Bruce Davidson, the young shots, the established, the commercial photographers, the no-flash-I'm-a-documentary maker photographers, the studio types, the I've-always-dreamed-about-doing-a-story-about-the-circus types, they come and they go, the usual story, peeking in, on their way.
I recognize myself in them, sometimes, an old familiar shadow I don't necessarily like to remember. I view them with longing, sometimes, too, the freedom of just working you craft, no kids and no early morning daily calls, just shooting away. But always I'm a little startled, and then giddy, to be the one that gets to bite into the gritty show of our lives every breathing craggy moment.
We go on, the last bohemians of the American road, and the mystery stays entirely ours.
There are no less than three photographers with us today, they're practically walking over each other.
They are a steady fixture along the circus seasons, the photographers, mostly men, they come and go with expected regularity, attracted by our exotic beauty no doubt, Mary Ellen Mark, maybe, or Bruce Davidson, the young shots, the established, the commercial photographers, the no-flash-I'm-a-documentary maker photographers, the studio types, the I've-always-dreamed-about-doing-a-story-about-the-circus types, they come and they go, the usual story, peeking in, on their way.
I recognize myself in them, sometimes, an old familiar shadow I don't necessarily like to remember. I view them with longing, sometimes, too, the freedom of just working you craft, no kids and no early morning daily calls, just shooting away. But always I'm a little startled, and then giddy, to be the one that gets to bite into the gritty show of our lives every breathing craggy moment.
We go on, the last bohemians of the American road, and the mystery stays entirely ours.
A long way.
June 28, Littleton.
Much ado about the hundred-mile-long drive this morning, horrid Boston traffic it would be, and it wasn't much more than a highway that wouldn't end with no more traffic than any.
Oh well, no complaints.
But the way our brain work, the anticipation, hearing Sara leave at four in the morning it seemed, then Casey and Nikki, not being able to go back to sleep, really, for worrying, relieved when the phone rang at five for me to get up and make coffee. So much for trying to take things in the present, my brain in overdrive most of the time whether I like it or not, and I don't, especially when it comes time to make a picture from the heart, not the mind, the loosening of all the learned filters between eyes and heart, or is it that old worn word, soul, impediments on the way to seeing, the loosening of all the defenses, taking in the world as it comes rather than as we think it, stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking.
A long way it was, and is, indeed.
Much ado about the hundred-mile-long drive this morning, horrid Boston traffic it would be, and it wasn't much more than a highway that wouldn't end with no more traffic than any.
Oh well, no complaints.
But the way our brain work, the anticipation, hearing Sara leave at four in the morning it seemed, then Casey and Nikki, not being able to go back to sleep, really, for worrying, relieved when the phone rang at five for me to get up and make coffee. So much for trying to take things in the present, my brain in overdrive most of the time whether I like it or not, and I don't, especially when it comes time to make a picture from the heart, not the mind, the loosening of all the learned filters between eyes and heart, or is it that old worn word, soul, impediments on the way to seeing, the loosening of all the defenses, taking in the world as it comes rather than as we think it, stop thinking, stop thinking, stop thinking.
A long way it was, and is, indeed.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Reyna's last day in the ring.
June 25, Berkley.
Reyna asked me for a picture of her in costume.
Turns out today is her last day as a show girl this year. She is three months pregnant.
In their shoes.
June 25, Berkley.
Rona Mann, a reporter for a small newspaper in Rhode Island called The Westerly Sun, came to do a story on the circus, and a ritual she has been performing for years whereas she puts herself in someone else's shoes for a moment. Last year she tried a Risley flip and this time she tricked roped with Joel.
I took advantage of taking pictures of her to corner Joel for a picture.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Three days.
June 23, Berkley.
An unexpected three-day stand and not much to show for it so far.
After waiting for an hour and a half to be parked in an ugly muddy field (our usual spot is unavailable this year, much to our collective chagrin,) Alex, Danny, Oscar and Tavo working hard and having to call in a tractor and forklift from town to rescue the circus semis and other heavy vehicles, our second day off in a week was spent doing laundry, after Dylan wet his bed, and because this is the way things happen the washing machine malfunctioned and I had to do the wash all over again. Not that I would have done much anyway for our car has a fuel pump problem (seems to be our mechanical problem of the season, after the motor home's similar issue stretched for an eternity back in April) and after cringing through making a left turn at a stop sign for the better part of fifteen minutes it looked better to just head home and pray we would make it without having to push the thing along.
The rest of the holiday was spent under water, showers to be exact, which had the unfortunate consequence of further condemning the day by making it all but impossible to interview Joel and Adrian, as planned, because the sound of the rain on the car would ruin the recording.
Some people were off to Boston, went to the museum, went shopping, Cape Cod would have been a great choice, or visiting any of my friends in the area, the list is endless of what you can do on a day off in a seven-days-a-week circus season.
Ah but it stopped raining some time around eight in the evening, and Joel was gracious enough to still agree to the interview then.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
A trailer with a view.
June 23, Berkley, Massachusetts (44 miles, 49 South Main Street, a farmer's field.)
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Day two.
June 22, Mendon.
Woke up with the rain, and the sound of the circus stakes truck pounding away.
Nicolas watched from the boys' bedroom window (the window I take a picture out of every morning.)
Travel day's little things.
June 21, Mendon.
Today was a travel day. We arrived at nine o'clock and spent the rest of the day working, doing laundry, the usual stuff of a day.
Trailers were parked haphazard around the lot, surprising against the precise order of the circus with or without the tent going up; the school parking lot next door where they would have been arranged was off limits for the day, for apparently school officials had no knowledge we were coming. We ended up wedged at the entrance to the cook house tent, and rather liked it. We are staying here tomorrow (no need to wake up early to move.)
The guys were listening to Mexican music at John and Reyna's, the pie car this year, passing the afternoon away.
It almost seems as if we don't know what to do with ourselves when we have the day off.
Today was a travel day. We arrived at nine o'clock and spent the rest of the day working, doing laundry, the usual stuff of a day.
Trailers were parked haphazard around the lot, surprising against the precise order of the circus with or without the tent going up; the school parking lot next door where they would have been arranged was off limits for the day, for apparently school officials had no knowledge we were coming. We ended up wedged at the entrance to the cook house tent, and rather liked it. We are staying here tomorrow (no need to wake up early to move.)
The guys were listening to Mexican music at John and Reyna's, the pie car this year, passing the afternoon away.
It almost seems as if we don't know what to do with ourselves when we have the day off.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
The second time around.
June 19, Saugerties.
Two years ago it was pouring, the trailer was leaking and Fridman was gone the minute we arrived on the lot, off to bring back a circus truck from the Chicago area. I remember being stuck in the trailer all day with the then babies, the frustration of not being able to see Saugerties, not being able to do much, barely making it to the whoop in between rain drops. Today is a gorgeous day, sunny and breezy, and a walk downtown, breakfast at the bakery, window shopping, taking life easy.
There is always a second chance.
Two years ago it was pouring, the trailer was leaking and Fridman was gone the minute we arrived on the lot, off to bring back a circus truck from the Chicago area. I remember being stuck in the trailer all day with the then babies, the frustration of not being able to see Saugerties, not being able to do much, barely making it to the whoop in between rain drops. Today is a gorgeous day, sunny and breezy, and a walk downtown, breakfast at the bakery, window shopping, taking life easy.
There is always a second chance.
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