Prepare the Mud

[lazariuk]

Many things rolled into town that may have mattered to them but didn't interest them much. They were use to the delivery trucks with supplies and building materials, the police cars which sometimes meant trouble, the arrival of teachers and doctors and lawyers and government agents. All of them came and they hardly raised an eyebrow.

But when we arrived it was a different story. When we rolled in by road they were there at the side of the gas station. When we came by barge they waited all along the shore. Day or night it didn't matter; they were there to meet us.

It was always nice to arrive but the arriving I remember most was when we arrived in the rain. If things could be delayed for a while to let the rain stop we waited but mostly we were pressed for time and there would be no waiting. It would look a bit nasty from our windows, but also through our windows we could see them with smiles as big as all outdoors and they would stand there in the rain beckoning for us to join life and so I would have a big gulp of my favorite drink and turn to the others and say: "Cmon guys lets go prepare the mud"

We would pile out and the steel was unloaded, and fences were erected, stakes driven into the ground , flaps for trailers opened, the big wheel went up and and item after item was assembled. They were always around to help in small ways; fetching a hammer, passing a cigarette over to a buddy, holding the end of a rope but mostly their help was the way they were so comfortable in the rain.

An so, it all came together and finally the switches were pulled, the ticket stand was opened and Montreal Jack's Magical Traveling Carnival was opened for business.

Then it was mostly fun for a few days until it was time to tear down. The kids were usually not around for the tearing down but often their older sisters were and they kept us company through this part of the hard work. It was sometimes their last chance for that sweet mysterious kiss from a stranger.

when I think back on the towns behind me the first memory is always that beckoning from young faces to prepare the mud and my last memory is those sweet kisses. I sigh, and then turn my attention to the work of preparing mud.

It wasn't really called "Montreal Jack's Magical Traveling Carnival" but there is maybe not a lie i won't tell for the sake of a good story. Just the memory is called "Montreal Jack's Magical Traveling Carnival"