More about Carnivals

We went back to the carnival this evening, Alex and I. She had 9 tickets left--3 per ride. I stood and watched and waved and took a few photos. I watched more than Alex, though. And I wondered about why people go to carnivals and ride on rides that swoop and spin and dive and scare them half to death.

I looked at the kids as they were getting off of/out of the baskets and swings and cars. I looked at many of them, but only one got off smiling and laughing, running to her dad, so excited her little face shone. The others were expressionless. Really. Even the 4-, 5-, 6-year olds. I wondered if these days of computer games and reality TV have dulled them, dulled the wonder of childhood's surprises and discoveries.

My little Alex, though, enjoyed everything. And she's already 7. Nearly an adult by today's standards, I'm afraid. Her face lights up at the deer and fawn next to our house. She laughs delightedly at the big scrub jay trying to balance on the bird feeder, flapping his wings wildly. The most important decision of her life today was pouring over the rock samples, trying to pick the best ones from "so many choices." Thank goodness.

The Good Old Small-town Carnival

The thing is sitting down and taking 5 minutes to write something. Like this: I ate cotton candy last night at the carnival here. My great-niece wanted some but was unsure whether she should get any because her mother would not approve, but her dad said your mother's not here and we're celebrating--it's kind of like a holiday, August 28th--it must be a holiday somewhere in the world. So William bought the cotton candy ($4.00...) which these days comes in a plastic bag.

The last time I remember buying cotton candy was at the New Mexico state fair in, maybe, 1959. Then, there was a machine enclosed in glass and it somehow spun the sugar into cotton right before your eyes, and the person selling it stuck a white paper tube into the spinning cotton and it wound right around the tube and she pulled it out and handed it to you for about 25 cents.

Now, it's in a sanitary plastic bag, made somewhere--probably China--and you have to reach in and take a handful and get your fingers all sticky and lick them and get all the germs inside you from the bar you were gripping when you rode the ferris wheel. Instead of them staying on your hands like they did in the old days when you had a paper tube to hold your cotton candy.

That's progress for you.