It’s the beginning of summer here in southern Wisconsin. The weather is warming up and the sounds of summer are in the air. Kids riding bikes, fireworks going off, teenagers whizzing by in their parent’s car with the radio turned up and the windows down. Here in the great Midwest it’s the beginning of the fastest three months of the year.
I grew up in a little town on Lake Superior. Ashland’s summer never started by Memorial Day weekend, it was still pretty cold. But eventually it would warm up enough so we could be barefoot and in shorts. By mid-June we braved the icy cold but very clean water of Lake Superior.
Summer days flew by when I was a kid. We were on a dead run from the last day of school until the end of August when you got fitted for new school shoes and your school supplies were purchased.
In between those two events, we crammed every bit of adventure. There were trees to climb, bikes to ride, swimming and diving for clams in the lake. There were lemonade stands, wiffle ball games and croquet. We played in sandboxes when we were little and in the ravines when we were bigger. We helped Grampa wash his milk delivery trucks and had water fights with the hose in his backyard. When it started getting dark, we played Kick The Can in the alley between our back yard and the Carpenter’s garage.
And every summer the carnival came to town around the 4th of July. At least that’s the way I remember it. One year it was set up in the parking lot of Monk’s Bowling Alley. Monk’s is the only bowling alley in town. It is down at the western end of Third st. I grew up on Third street so it was a straight shot to go to the carnival.
Clare and I collected money we had saved. That’s a lie, Clare saved, I begged. Anyway, we went to the carnival together. I remember Mom and Dad spent time in the nice cool bar drinking beer while we ran around spending money on rides, games and carnival food. Clare loved the games and came home with a wide array of prizes and of course a goldfish. I was more of a ride girl and I liked corndogs, we called them pronto pups.
The carnival reminded me of the story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin. When the rides start going and the lights come on and the smell of junk foods and sweets are in the air, every little kid within miles, was drawn to it. Even if you didn’t have any money you went to the carnival. I remember even after our money was long gone we still went down there to watch other kids on the rides and see if anyone got really scared or really won the $5 bill on that ring toss game.
When we were little we would watch the big kids go on the scary rides. One ride called the rocket, looked like a ferris wheel, except the cars were all enclosed and when you started to go up, your car could spin around upside down. We heard that if you didn’t hold on and the car went upside down, you would be killed and your body would go through the top of the car just like a meat through a grinder.
Now, I don’t know who started that story, but I’ve never gone on that ride. The rumor was enough for me even though I know it is not possible for that to happen. It was enough that some kid said it. I didn’t want to prove it right or wrong.
The tilt-a-whirl was my favorite ride. We sat 3 in a car and we would spin around and around We loved it. I thought it was a lot more fun that the scrambler. All that ride did was make you smash into the person riding with you. What fun is that? I smashed into my little sister at home and it didn’t cost anything.
AS I got older, we even ventured onto the scariest ride of all, the Round Up. On this ride, you stand up and your head is on a padded cushion and you have a belt that is fastened in front of you and the ride starts spinning round and round, pinning you to the back of the ride and then it starts going on it’s side so the only thing holding you on the ride is the centripetal force. I was so afraid of this ride it took me years to get on it. But I did and then I felt fearless, except of course for that rocket ride.
Life was good, the carnival was here, Mom and Dad were handing our quarters like they were free and Clare and I were deep into the Soddom and Gommora of childhood, the annual carnival. We ate cotton candy and foot long hot dogs and carmel apples.
With full bellies, we just kept eating and then we decided to go back on the tilt-whirl. And this is when the story takes an ugly turn. Clare and Jody and I were all on the ride together. Clare was in the middle. The ride started and after just a few turns I looked at Clare and she didn’t look very good. She looked kind of green.
Before we knew what was going to happen, I put my hand up to her mouth and she threw up. All over me......I felt bad for her. All those quarters in junk food and now she’s on a ride with an empty stomach and she’s sitting next to someone covered in vomit.
So we did what anyone else would have done. We jumped on our bikes, peddaled home as fast as possible. Changed clothes, washed up, got the rest of our allowance that we were saving for something else and went right back to the carnival. I don’t think Mom and Dad even noticed we changed clothes. WE didn’t tell them about this because if you threw up, you had to go home and to bed. That’s just the way it was when you were a kid. No one thought one bit about what caused the person to be sick, you just knew you had to go to bed if you threw up.
It didn’t seem to bother Clare much. Actually she probably felt alot better after she threw up because she was never much of an eater and with an empty stomach she had a lot more fun. We ran and ran until it was dark and then we went to the fireworks like everyone else. And then home to bed and our dreams full of ups and downs and rides and noisy music. And finally off to our deep sleep to recover our energy and renew ourselves for the next day full of adventure. Another day in our childhood that was going faster than any carnival ride.
We drove past a carnival last week and I thought about the tilt-a -whirl and the round up and that rocket ride. I don’t think you could get me on any of those rides anymore, but I do enjoy a corn dog now and then or as we called them back then Pronto Pups. Face it, even when you’re a grownup, carnival food is really good. It may not be haute cuisine, but who the heck really likes that stuff anyway? I much prefer a soft serve cone and a Pronto Pup.
And then there’s the other thing, the little kids. Whether it’s at a parade or a carnival, I love the kids. I love the way their eyes get so big when they see something new. I love the sounds of laughter and the squeeling when they are on a ride. I love the hugs and kisses from a dirty little kid when they say hello or goodbye.
Skinned knees, cotton candy, sticky fingers, dirty faces clutching a little bag filled with water and one poor goldfish who’s days are numbered. Nothing says summer better than a fist full of dandylions, or a sticky kiss on the cheek from a dirty little kid.
So, empty out your change jug, or pony up your gas money and go to the carnival. It will make you feel like a kid again and who knows, you might be the one giving out sticky kisses of your own.
Thanks for listening,
Anne
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