Growing up in a small town like Staples there was little to do for entertainment. Most of the activities had to do with the school and sports activities or concerts. So in the summer time when the school was largely shuttered, it became bleak indeed. But every so often there was something that broke the boredom. It was called the carnival and every so often they came to town.
Now I’m not talking about a church carnival or some entertaining things that are put in place for a civic celebration. No I’m talking about a full-fledged carnival that came to town and set up on the ball fields and the playground by the high school. There was a whole parade of trucks carrying in the rides and attractions and they set up a mini midway full of games of chance, entertaining things to see and thrilling rides.
One of the games I was always attracted to was the little digger cranes where for one thin dime, you got a chance to operate that swinging apparatus, inside its glass case and grab a prize and drop it into the chute that delivered it to you. Not having a lot of money to spend, I would watch others playing the machines hoping to see, just what it was that made it so difficult to snag those best things that were rarely taken. Like that shiny gold wristwatch that was always in the farthest corner from the chute. One of the things I noticed was that most people were in a hurry and either over shot the target or if they did snag something good, they were in hurry to get it out and lost grip on it. But on this one night a man managed to grab that watch but he dropped it in the middle of the pile and dismayed he left. Before they could reposition it-- which they always did-- I got my dime on the counter and guided the claws over to that watch and drug it out of there. I was overjoyed putting the watch on my skinny arm, and I sprinted home to show off my winning. Two days later my arm turned green and itched like crazy. I showed my dad and he took out his knife and scraped off some of the metal off the back. The back was lead, painted gold, and dad made me throw it away. He told me it would make me dumber then I was.
There were also the tents with deformed people and animals to see and a guy out front with a cane and a top hat, calling it the seventh wonder of the world. Somehow I am glad we have gotten beyond that over the years. Exploiting people was never my thing. Then there was what my dad called the hootchie kootchie tent where you had to be older to get in and see the scantily dressed dancers. No one knew at the time, that in a few decades you could see more then they showed, at the mall for free. My friend and I went around to the back and peeked under the canvas but before we could get a look-see, we got caught and had to run for our freedom. My buddy’s pants were all wet as somebody had relieved themselves behind the tent and he laid in it. Then there was a ride shaped like a bullet that spun you around and around and I took a fast trip in it, on a dare. There was room for two people in it and the other person threw-up on me, so my friend and I went home that night smelling like pee and vomit. But at least it was something to do and we could say we went to the Carnival and who knew that sixty-five years later I would write about it
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