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Carnival!By Ken Root The first time I remember hearing the word was when I was 6 and we were getting into the old, pre-war Ford to drive to the high school to experience an evening of small town fun. The images etched in the mind of a child of the 1950s are far different than those of today. They are so far removed from the sensations of this century that they can hardly be compared, but the thrill and pure joy of the moment could not be any better today than it was for me back then. The school carnival in my home town was an annual event designed to raise funds by offering competition between the high school classes. The homecoming queen was crowned based on the class that turned in the most money. The carnival had no rides, just games, and was conducted on the covered gymnasium floor with food sold in the cafeteria nearby. I remember that "everything was tall" from the vantage point of a 6-year-old. I looked up to see laughing people and tried to find the focus of their attention. The school's games were all handmade and they were quite simple. The smallest child could "go fishing" as I put a fishing pole over the top of a curtain and waited until something tugged on the line. Suddenly, it pulled hard and I yanked back to find a toy attached, that went into my pocket as I turned my attention to the next attraction. Mice were used in some of the games. They scared the girls and amused the adults as chances were placed on colors or numbers before a mouse was released from under a tin cup and scurried around the board before going into a hole that determined the winner. The student running the game had to retrieve the mouse to start the next round and sometimes it escaped to the shrieks of onlookers who watched the students chase it across the floor. We had a dunk tank that allowed the strong armed baseball players to show their skill and to put a local celebrity or pretty girl into the water. It was the first time I witnessed the '50s version of "trash talk," as the barker and the person on the dunk board harassed the thrower. Often they missed, but when the ball hit the red and white trigger hard enough there was a crack and a splash that brought forth cheers and riotous laughter. My mother gave me two dollars for the event each year. When it was gone, it was gone. I learned that I couldn't do everything as many times as I wanted, even though most games were a dime and the big ones were a quarter. I don't know how many times I heard that the games used to be a penny and a nickel and they didn't have enough money to play them. You can never top the stories of your ancestors, so there's no need to try. I had no idea that there were traveling shows with rides and games and people who made their livelihood from this type of nomadic venture. A few years later, I got to go to the state fair and play the "cranes" which swung around and picked up toys and tools or a washer that said "choice," so you could have anything in there if you could drop it through the slot. I began to talk to the "carnies" as I got into high school and was fascinated by their craft. In one instance, as I tried to win his biggest prize, he informed me that I could win "choice" every time and he'd still spend the winter in Ft. Lauderdale, Fla. I guess that implied he won because I'd still be stuck in Oklahoma. People love the excitement of a carnival or fair. The sights and sounds draw children, adolescents and adults. Some people like to play the games, others like to watch them play the games and some just like to see and be seen. In simpler times, it was an escape from drudgery as farm hands and factory workers cleaned up and went to town for some excitement. Today it is a social event and at its heart, it is commerce--if you can't pay, you can't play. I never really thanked my parents for those two dollars they gave me for an evening of fun. My mother might spend a dollar to buy a cake from the bake sale, but she carefully managed the funds so I never felt poor or deprived. I just felt out of breath from running outside with my friends and then back in to experience the excitement of the carnival. Editor's note: This is Ken Root's 34th year as an agricultural reporter. He grew up on a small farm in central Oklahoma and started his career as a vocational agriculture teacher. He worked in Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri as a broadcaster and was the original host of AgriTalk. He has also been the executive director of the National AgriChemical Retailers Association in Washington, D.C. and the National Association of Farm Broadcasters in Kansas City. Ken is now the lead farm broadcaster at WHO and WMT Radio based in Des Moines, Iowa. He has been a columnist for HPJ and Midwest Ag Journal for seven years. 2/25/08 Date: 2/21/08
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