Now, I have to admit that I don’t have that spine tingling joy and sense of magic produced in me 150 years ago when I first started going to the circus. I also have to admit to a tetch more crabbiness when my naps are interrupted.
However, over the last several evenings, a large group of screaming, milling, nine year olds have been performing daredevil, high-wire acts on the school playground equipment immediately behind my back fence.
As a former teacher, I do understand that banshee imitations are par for the course at recess and noon hour. But until 11 p.m.? In the dark?
It occurred to me that this latest addition to the atmosphere in formerly sleepy Cloverdale represents the third act of our annual summer circus: the sharpshooters from the midway blazing away with their bird cannons, with the occasional screamer to awe and amaze the spectators; the circus trains with the world’s largest calliopes sounding their 150-decibel whistles more than 30 times a day (and night – mostly night); and now, our own Cirque de Lune!
Funny, but I’m not feeling the joy and magic. Guess I’m too tired.