Historical--Events

I remember specific times when I was in elementary school. No, no, it’s not an overdramatic experience of a girlfriend-boyfriend breakup. Or some stupid prank gone wrong at a summer camp or Boy Scouts summer outing.                           

I’m different. So different my uniqueness towards other people extends worlds beyond being the new kid at my new school. Every day, I’d walk those long colorless halls, enter and exit those mediocrely interesting classes and get on and off that loud, grumbling bus I could see ready to eat all those loud, obnoxious children boarding and leaving its fifteen or so booths called seats.

So I’m going to tell you something interesting, colorful and maybe a little—

Don’t read this story to your children at night. It’s not a bedtime story. I’m serious. Serious!

The train went lightning speed. At least it felt that way, because it zoomed through the tunnel, the lights appearing through the wide windows and then—bam!—disappearing again and again. I could hear wheels grinding as they rolled on the assumedly rusty track. But I clung to the steel pole as hard as I could, my brown knuckles white. I wiped the sweat from my forehead, and bit my lip hard.

I dared to look out the right window. There he was again! A circus ringleader, black like me with mud-brown dreadlocks cascading down his red velvet coat, appeared and then vanished. Was he a magician? I saw him before with his show of animals, trapeze artists, balancing actors, stuntmen and women, clowns, balloon artists, cartoonists, mimes and brave horse riders.

I blinked a few times, and then just stared, wondering about this stranger. I shivered, and jumped when he appeared on a seat in front of me. Twisting my face into a question mark, I asked what he wanted from me. He was cross-legged with his black cane between him, both hands resting on top of it. I looked back. The rest of the train’s passengers didn’t move. They hadn’t once talked, coughed, sneezed or cared about the mysterious man aboard this endlessly moving train. Didn’t they sense anything weird about this moment? How could they just completely ignore something like this?

I don’t want to scare you into throwing this story away, or give it to someone else, begging them to keep it so you don’t get nightmares. Oh, no! Keep reading, for it’s good to—

Wait. I still haven’t thought of a word to describe this weird man.

I thought to myself. Was he trying to tell me something? Why did he keep his eyes locked onto mine? I was just an average teen too young to—    

What was that? You say keep going?        

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

So, this guy—whoever he was—was a weirdo. I mean, like, if he showed up at M. W. Watts Elementary School this fall (because I was traveling to D.C. for a teen youth conference at which I was serving one of the tables this summer), I would freak out.

When I looked into those gold eyes, I could see myself in them. Literally.

I was leaning over a white tablecloth, a gold Rolex watch adorning my right wrist. Man, I must have won the million-dollar lottery or America’s Got Talent to wear such fine, fancy clothes as these. And at what looked like an extremely expensive restaurant! I was sitting with some friends from my former elementary school, back in my old town up north. We had moved recently, so I sorely wanted to reunite with them. We were like brothers.   

My secret desire was in my future. I smiled to myself every time I heard such a coveted life. Even now, I looked around, hoping no one saw me. But I suddenly didn’t care about my appearance. I was looking at the real me.

I saw my friends again. All of them grinned and clinked glasses, throwing their dreadlocks back as they pounded their ringed fists on the table, laughter filling the air. One of the guys threw an arm around my shoulders, recalling our mountain biking days. I slapped my hand to my mouth, laughing hysterically, and then pounded my fist on the table. I was shaking from gales of laughter.    

I looked away just as Charles needed to use the restroom. I told the red-coated and black slack-wearing man my friends and I deserved to be together again. I had no one but them.       

“Please!”   

The man closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. Then he got up and disappeared—literally—before he reached the door. Then I saw some lions, bears, seals and small dogs outside the window. They were running and jumping and balancing on big balls and holding them up with their noses. But the bear’s paws beckoned me forward. It was calling to me? I studied them. I wanted to go—make my dreams come true. But the train hadn’t stopped yet!  

I’ve been on this train a long time. I looked at my watch. Then, I felt a hand grab me—

My eyes flashed open. My ugly, grey bedroom ceiling was before me. White linen sheets covered my body. I took them off, and turned. Another pillow lay beside me.          

I nodded, scratching my way darker hair. “One day, I’ll marry that girl.”          

I heard a man’s voice. That circus leader! He was back—in my house? But I just dreamt about him. Or…had I?  

I ran into the living room. He was lying on the couch, looking straight up at the bland, boring ceiling. I asked him how he’d gotten here. He got up and, with a dull look on his grubby face, said I’ll never make it if I always wonder. I replied I wanted to marry Nationals and rejoin my best friends. I demanded that he explain the vision.

He said he had a circus he needed to get to. We went together by carriage a few miles down the road from my house. I gaped at the humongous white tent billowing in the whistling wind. “This is yours?”

He merely nodded.

As we climbed down from his carriage, his horses whinnied. I told them we’d be back, and walked across the gravel path that lead to the baseball field’s parking lot and down the grassy hill. Onto hay and manure we stepped—well, I avoided the yucky poop—and then I looked around, mouth hanging open, as zebras, lions and black bears all trotted around the ring’s middle circle platform, balancing on huge colorful balls and jumping through rings of fire!

I stood in awe, but the ringmaster called me. We stood in the center of the place, in a huge sandy circle surrounded by a thin metal ring onto which he leapt, showing off some dance moves. I grinned wide, entertained by this man.

Unlike this man, though, I wasn’t really into the circus. I hate dancing. Nationals hates circuses. Dancing was just an enjoyable hobby.

When the youth conference wheeled through my mind, I ignored it. Seeing the ringmaster, I ran over. A zebra was chomping on some grass. It nodded, like it was saying hi. I threw up an indifferent hand, telling the ringmaster I was going to see Nationals.

“No. Not right now.” He smirked, leading the zebra over to some water. I balled my fists and marched over, commanding him to stop. He laughed.

I glared at him and tried stealing his zebra. He roared, stealing a top hat and slapping it against his knees. My hands clenched, I yelled that I deserved riches and glory right now. He grabbed a shovel from somewhere, having freed the zebra. Tossing it to me, he demanded I get to work. My eyes blazed.     

“Shovel that manure dump, and you can go to your girlfriend.”

“She’s my—” I reasoned with him.      

“Hard work comes before a reward!”

I sighed, slowly exiting the tent. As cars drove by above, I pushed my shovel under the manure and then grabbed a bucket so I could take it to the compost pile nearby. Slamming the shovel into the dirt over and over again, I cleaned up. Then, I dashed back into the tent, desperate for water. The ringmaster shot his eyebrows up, and I croaked for something to drink. He tossed me a jar of water, and I downed it. I returned it. Taking to the manure piles again, I saw the ringmaster before me. He gave me a bucket of water.   

“Oh, thanks!” I pantomimed throwing it over my head. “I’ll add saliva and spit to the stench covering me already!”

The ringmaster stared hard at me. Then, he thrust it towards me and walked back inside. I caught it, threw it on the ground and continued my thankless job. I heard him say to sprinkle it on the manure. I couldn’t—the ground had already drunk it all up. I asked for more, and the ringmaster handed it to me. I’ll be molding the manure into stadium seats for tonight’s performance, he said.

Soon, the manure didn’t smell or look like manure anymore—just brown clay turned into audience seats. After this second task was performed, I called to the ringmaster that I needed help lifting the huge benches. The ringmaster calmly walked out and grabbed the other end, walking backward into the tent. We set the benches onto the sod and hay-strewn floors, circling the gigantic tent.  

Some putridity spew out of my mouth when the ringmaster told me to redo all the benches—they weren’t big enough. Immediately, I was on the floor below him with my cheeks stinging. The ringmaster glowered at me and then snapped his fingers. Suddenly, growling terrified me. “Disrespect me again, and I’ll feed you to my lions!”   

I bobbed my head and scrambled to my bare feet. He ordered me to lay more hay all around the tent, spreading it as thin as paper. I performed this job, grumbling with every step. Much later, while crickets’ chirps saturated the atmosphere and fireflies’ light went on and off outside, I stretched and yawned, striving to keep my eyes open. I told the ringmaster I’ll head off to bed, but he commanded me to do one more thing.     

“Yes, ringmaster. What is it?” I wiped the mud from my hands and rubbed the itchiness from my forehead and legs.

“You see those animals over there?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well,” he chuckled, spreading his gold-wristed arms wide, “you’ll see them performing next year!”

“Yes, sir.”

Time couldn’t have flown faster. We celebrated my eleventh birthday with cake and balloons. I watched a show. He presented me with a top hat. I still have it on my nightstand beside my bed. Nationals wants to throw it away.

But continuing.    

The next day, I peeked inside, looking all around. The ringmaster beckoned me. I sauntered over to him, my hands in my jean’s big pockets.         

“Well, son, I’ve been telling everyone about this circus—for years. You’re not the only one working for a reward. I’m working for something, too.”     

He walked off, leaving me to stand before all these masses of people filing into the amazing showbiz grounds. I dashed off, my cheeks growing hot. I wondered what the ringmaster was going to have me do now. If it’s anything stupider than molding benches out of manure and magically making them seats, I was going to punch this man’s lights out. I stopped and looked his way, just to make sure.  

He was decorating his animals by harnessing them with gold straps and ugly but heavy-looking ropes for the glittery horse riders and animal trainers. I waited, but he was distracted. So I snuck outside to find Nationals. Fortunately, more crowds allowed me to disappear among them. But someone tapped me on the shoulder. I rolled my eyes, exhaling feverishly, and turned. This man may have magical powers, but he sure was commanding.

And then grinned.    

I told her to come with me to the parking lot. She agreed, moving away from the crowds. She said they were making her claustrophobic. I complained about the ringmaster’s taskmaster attitude. Nationals ignored the snippy attitude.

She told me to wait here, and struggled to weave in between the thick crowds of men, women and excited children. Soon, she was back with two tickets. I bit my lip, staring at the two red and black and gold pieces of paper and said, “I thought you didn’t want to go.”

Nationals nudged someone within the crowds. Two kids jumped up, snatching them from her mother just as she was about to take them. While her sister and her best friend boasted they had won two free tickets, Nationals told them to tell her parents she’d be back. Then we ran down to the parking lot.

Once we got there, I boasted, “I’ll be buying you and me reservations to an extremely expensive restaurant one day!”  

Nationals spread a wide smile and hugged me. “Can’t wait!” But I felt she was just excited for me. She looked at the black pavement below with two white lines. “So…” Nationals shrugged. “We’re going somewhere?”

“Oh!” I winked and gestured. “You know what, we are.” Finding a pen in my khaki’s pocket, I uncapped it and bent down, drawing a circle onto the ground. I looked back. Rolling her eyes, Nationals shook her head. “What are you doing, drawing your own circus?”  

“No!” I laughed, and turned the black circle with my hand as if it were a doorknob. Looking back at her, saw Nationals just stare as my hand turned clockwise. Then I stepped back, pulling my hand upwards. The asphalt was going up and away from us, and we were looking at the blank, white inside of this door.  

“Well?” I stepped aside, while Nationals just jerked a finger at my creation.

“How…where…?”

Laughing at her speechlessness, I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go!”   

We both went in, and I closed the door behind me. I drew my own church, pews and archway way above us. “This is where we’ll get married. I’ll explain everything to everyone later when they’re all here, too!” I turned around, wondering whether Nationals was listening. She said she was trying to shut the door.

I went over to it, and pulled, too. It didn’t budge. I yanked. I stumbled backward. Confusion buzzing through my mind, I told Nationals I’d be back. When I got to the tent, I jumped—the ringmaster was right in front of me! Total fear dried my mouth.

I was scared.

“You don’t ever walk away from me.” His cool tone sent a chill down my spine. “It took me years to get this circus up and running, and you just dash off like that?”

He continued shaking his head in grave disappointment as he walked towards the circle, loudly addressing the cheering, clapping crowds. While the dancing bears distracted the audience, he whipped the tent flap open and snapped it closed behind him. I bit my lip, looking at the floor as anger flooded through me.

Well, I did help him! Didn’t I?

I apologized to the ringmaster, but he ignored it. During an intermission, he told me to enjoy the next show. I dragged my feet to an empty bench space. I barely sat still—Nationals must be mad! Finally, while the ringmaster thanked his dismissing audience, I raced around the dispersing crowds towards the parking lot. Crickets chirped and fireflies showed off their lights. Even the moon was bright and full.

She glowered at me. “So much for waiting, Mr. Frustrating! Like I’ll marry a selfish fool like you—”        

Nationals grabbed the pen and drew a train station gate. “We’re getting out of here. I hate circuses. I want to travel—just not with performers.” We burst through the train station gate. I saw that vision’s restaurant up ahead. We were so close!   

Yet so far.        

I reminded her of my desire to become wealthy and reunite with Charles and them.

“If I’m more than your friend, you need to be more than just my friend, too!”

“Nat—”

I sighed. My hands slapped onto my sides. She was right. But she didn’t understand—we were so close! It was right there—the glory, the friends, the—

“Carter!”

“I’m sorry.” I meant it. “I guess…” The conference slipped through my mind again. It was in a couple of weeks. I told Nationals she should go, too. I’d be there, hosting one of the tables. She declined, saying maybe I’ll do well on my own. Or maybe think about whether I should even serve at a conference promoting community service and hospitality when all I was promoting was selfishness.

I looked at the restaurant and then nodded. First thing’s first, huh?

I saw the ringmaster at the conference. Handing him a brochure, I said he could use the circus as more than just entertainment. He criticized, saying I was too much of an ungrateful person to say that. I replied that I couldn’t just bail out on the less fortunate. Besides, I needed a passion to serve others if I were to speak here next year.        

He said he’d think about it. Besides, he justified, my circus is entertaining enough.

Years later, four college seniors sat together at a white tablecloth-covered table, laughing hysterically. The oldest, Charles, kept me in stitches as he told one funny joke and then acted it out for all of us. After the comedy, I shared my story of how I made that vision back in that train a reality.

“Any of you attending the conference this year? I’m speaking.”

“We’ll think about it.”

I still hope they listened to me. That their desires went beyond Rolex watches and extremely expensive cars, too.  

I hope they, too, found joy.