Frantic kids climbing into carnival rides: Half Moon, Tilt-a-Whirl, Merry-Go-Round. Mayhem and stress, ahh, sweet memories of small town 4th of July celebrations.
Its location was The Roosevelt Commons, or the Commons as we townies called it, an open space near the high school with shade trees and a pond, a few ducks added for authentic flavor. Long, serving tables held their ground, a barricade separating the masses from the free treats. The carnival rides were parked around the perimeter of this Sherwood Forest.
The place was packed, like the Pied Piper had a record day. Kids dashed every which way. Wheezy pipe organ tunes blared from all the rides, all different, all distortion loud, blending into an indecipherable cacophony. We yelled over the din to be heard.
A unique bouquet hung in the air, a mixture of kicked up dirt, sweet sewage from the pond, burnt popcorn and young bodies not yet practiced in the use of deodorant.
I’m not sure how tickets were distributed but we all clutched ours. I gave one with TICKET printed on it to the volunteer and, look at this, I got a free bottle of ice cold, grape soda! I chugged it down until a volcanic belch returned the favor. Then came the Nutty Buddy Ice Cream Cone. I pushed the ice cream down with my tongue as I went so that ice cream would be at the bottom of the cone when I got there. I preferred wafer cones to sugar but hey, who’s complaining, it’s free!
My friends jetted off to get in line for a ride. I was more cautious. Soda, ice cream and pop corn blended by a carnival ride? Really?
I froze beside a tree, deliberating. On the one hand was major FOMO (fear of missing out), on the other hand, an inner voice saying no fucking way, this does not look fun.
Before me towered the Half Moon, a mechanical see saw. Kids piled in and buckled up. This metal monster rocked back and forth, gentle at first, then some serious see sawing. People on top looked straight down at the people below. As it teetered, threatening to go 360, eyes bulged, tongues wagged, screams drowned out the music.
I settled on a reasonable compromise: the baby ferris wheel. What could go wrong? Licia Eidus, Ally Klein, Alfie Ward and I climbed in. Off we twirled. I fixed on the football field in the distance as we went above it, then below it, above it, then below it. We broke into a rousing chorus of “I’m Henry VIII” by the Herman’s Hermits. Singing at the top of our lungs, we laughed hysterically, drunk on endorphins. Before I knew it, the ride was over, and we tumbled out still giddy. They scampered off to the next ride, but that was my mike drop one ride.
Come evening dad packed up the stations wagon: blanket, check; deck of cards, check; snacks, check; bug spray, check and off we went to spend quality family time finding a parking space. We should have walked. The fireworks were back near the Commons, set up on the high school football field.
Dad spread out the blanket in a sea of blankets. Many brought fold out chairs. That wasn’t our style. We sat on the blanket. Now the wait, thus the deck of cards.
Is it dark enough yet? No. Is it dark enough yet? No. Occasionally a flare shot up and exploded and everyone thought this was it, but no, it wasn’t.
Until it was!
OOOOOOOHHH, AHHHHHHHH, bursts of color in the sky punctuated by BOOMs that shook the earth beneath us. Pinwheels on the ground, attached to wood stands, spewed out waterfalls of white sparks One of them came loose and rolled off into the distance. Not sure how far it got, or if it was connected to the fire sirens soon after.
For the grand finale the sky went crazy with red, white and blue shooting stars and a multitude of concussive booms. Then just as suddenly, nothing. For a moment, all the world was a freeze frame. Tendrils of sulphuric smoke curled about, stinging nostrils. Orange glowing paper scraps wafted to the ground. Action resumed, the crowd came to its senses, and a big cheer rose up along with hearty applause.
People scrambled to pick up their stuff and get the hell out of Dodge. Everyone was tired; the kids were cranky. The older teens were still in party mode. They threw firecrackers randomly about, adding an edge of danger and lawlessness into the cattle drive. My dad plowed ahead, and we followed.
Finally in our car, we headed home, that is, we inched along in gridlock conditions.
Back home, safe, the day done, I reflected. Yes, it had been an all day party, wild and reckless, to make the founding fathers proud. Happy Birthday, America!