Allowances
Noel Laflin
10-31-15
The fly-by-night carnival
pulled into town early one Friday morning and was open for business by sunset. The neighborhood was abuzz in anticipation as
the old vacant lot at Lincoln and East was suddenly transformed into a city of
light beckoning one and all - young and old - to come take a stroll down the hastily
erected boardwalk, drop a dime, throw a dart, toss a ball, lift a hammer and
ding a bell.
And we did.
It cost me nearly two week’s allowance to finally win a small iron horse at one of the arcades. The game of chance had something to do with
balls and hoops – or balls and bottles – or perhaps, it was balls and holes and
tilting boards. It’s all a blur
now. All I know for certain is that I
finally won the smallest of prizes and declined the barker’s enticing promise
of winning a bigger horse if only I would lay down just one more dime
and toss, or throw, or roll another three balls. And although I was only ten, I knew when I’d been coyly conned and nearly beaten out of my forty cents, and
decided to put the small prize and my last dime in my pocket and walk away.
As there was
just one coin left, I had the choice of either cotton candy or the Ferris
wheel. I chose to see my neighborhood
from a higher viewpoint.
Once aloft,
and circling about again and again, I saw the lay of the land as I’d never had
before.
There were
the tops of houses, including my own, rising and falling with every rotation of
the swinging gondolas. I had the cart all
to myself.
‘Tequila,’
by the Champs, came blaring through tinny speakers down below. The song would rise and fade with each
revolution.
The old orange
grove beside the vacant lot appeared to go on forever, but did eventually end at
the block wall separating both it and the city’s ancient graveyard that lay
just on the other side. The cemetery was dark and spooky, and the white marble
angel with the broken arm was hard to spot.
And it was
with more than just a bit of satisfaction that I was finally level with the
tallest of the aged trees that shadowed the graves below.
I spied my
school across the street and down the road a bit and marveled at the expanse of
the playground and darkened ball field running south.
The faraway
homes of friends, laid out in cookie cutter fashion, would come into focus and
then disappear with every rotation.
Downtown
lights flickered on and off with every rise and fall of the giant wheel.
And all too
soon, the song was over, as was the ride.
As I was out
of money I left the carnival and entered the grove I’d just viewed from above, and walked a path I’d
walked a thousand times before. I
decided to take the long way home and hopped the old cemetery wall and ran the
distance of the graveyard, as one just did not merely take a stroll through
such a place alone and at night.
I climbed
the ivy-covered chain link fence and dropped onto safer ground. I was now at the end of the street that I
called home and made a beeline for it.
And so the
horse was taken from a pocket and placed upon a bedroom desk. Over time, it found its way into a drawer and
then eventually a box where it lay forgotten for decades to come.
I recently
came across a small box within a box that had been residing on a dusty shelf
buried deep in the garage. A small iron
horse lay within.
A memory
regarding a game of chance – something to do with balls, and a foolishly spent
allowance – suddenly came into focus.
And so did a
Ferris wheel, a hit song of the late fifties, a view of a neighborhood now much
changed, and a nighttime run through a graveyard.
Like that night of long ago, I see it all
from a slightly different level now.
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