8760. THINGS ARE DIFFERENT NOW, Pt. 210

210. HOW AVENEL

Any number of things come

to the fore and have kept me

busy forever: I never much

talked to my father, there

was never any real

understanding, my mother

seemed glib and unformed,

my aunts and uncles just

became the other ends of

feuds and problems. I came

from a really twisted up ward.

Neighbors and friends? Don't

get me started.When we first

moved to Avenel, those first

few years, there' d be small,

really small, traveling carnivals

that would come through town.

It was really stupid because

any other place besides Avenel

would bring in more people, have

greater grounds for the display,

and were just as easily accessible.

But for whatever reason  -  some

small-minded devotion to the dollar,

I guess  -  the local catholic church,

and then the firehouse, each would

host one. They were pretty horrid.

I do remember them however, with

just some most-faint slant towards

their nightmarish qualities. A

small-scale carnival along

Avenel Street, no matter who was

sponsoring it, was a senseless thing.

No open fields or main walkway

centers, they were each held on

their own, very small, crimped-up

little spots  -  the side-lot of a small

church, in one case, and, in the

other, the side-lot, unused and

useless too, and old house that

was the Avenel Fire Company,

when it was small and sensible.

Men at least were humble. Now

it's just punks, stalking. Strangely

intense and goofy guys, with their

fire-boots, begging at lights. The

'carnivals' themselves were so

small as to be pathetic  -  a tiny

Ferris wheel, some lame-brain

version of a roller-coaster. Hardly

even a carnival, since there was

no 'place' or referential spot to go

with it. 'Carnivals' are not, in

lore, supposed to be in boring

everyday locations. The idea of

a 'carnival' was the pro-temp,

ad-hoc, factor of a fleeting,

passing moment and place  -

when suddenly, just on the

fringes of the village or burg,

a traveling troupe would set

in the tramped-down weeds

or on a wild, untrod, field just

for the occasion. The real

joy came from just being there;

in some strange and different,

and new, place, and being

able to see and watch all the

strange, wild, odd people it

brought with it. The cars and

wagons and vehicles, in this

then 'modern-era' description,

with all their Alabama, and

'Heart of Dixie' license plates.

You'd maybe find a cage or

two of weird animals, curiosity

stuff, and the brawny, mysterious,

and crude men and women

who came along. 'Carnies' they'd

be called. They were always

around, the mechanics who

erected and dismantled, the

barkers and ticket people, etc.

I'd seen carnivals that were, in

their back lots and on the large,

open fields, regular encampments

of tents and campers. Little fires

and cook-stoves. (One time, in

1982, in Metuchen, my house

was broken into and robbed.

The cops shrugged it off, after

doing the report and the paperwork,

saying, 'Well, be careful. We've

got the report. What can I say,

the carnival's in town.' Evidently

they were known around, as well,

as local crooks. Metuchen used to

use the large fields at the old

Franklin School (gone now); a

sports area called 'Franklin Field',

down the end of my street.)...

-

Those traveling men and women

were something to behold. Sleeping

on the ground, or in their cars and

trucks. One of the traveling troupes

was a circus, not a carnival, in

Metuchen I mean, and they'd arrive

with their little caravan of monkeys,

an elephant or two, and one or two

large tractor-trailers with veritable

zoos packed in. They'd splash out,

all, erect their tents and booths, in

the most-early morning light, allow

spectators in to watch, move the

animals all about and, generally,

just get things started. It was 

great fun  - totally aromatic, 

noisy, and strange. There was 

an elephant guy; totally eccentric, 

stinky and weird too. All he

did was take care of two 

moderate size elephants. There

are two types of elephant  - 

one had large, floppy ears, 

I think maybe that's the

African Elephant, and there's

another, with smaller, tighter

ears. I think that's the Indian

Elephant  -  or maybe the other

way around. I don't know. He

had the floppy eared ones. And

there were these two little saddle

things with a colorful blanket 

he'd put on them, and walk 

kids around, atop the elephant  

-  on the ground he held the strap

and a sort of 'nice' whip. For a

buck and a quarter, one kid at 

a time, they'd get a slow walk,

an elephant ride, around the 

perimeter; he had a marked-out

path. The kids loved it, and I

guess it was fun, enough  -  

peanuts, the gait, the circuit.

What was weird to me, always, 

watching it, was the silence. 

The entire thing made no noise  -

neither the elephant nor the guy.

There was some crunchy straw 

they walked on, maybe. But it

was cool because of the silence.

Only background noise, the other

rides, machinery noises, kids

screaming and such, and the

compressors, for ice cream and

other treats. Just background noise.

The hurdy-gurdy guy, he had his

calliope noise, song, etc. Nothing

here. Every so often the elephant

guy would switch off elephants.

I guess they were interchangeable

and got tired.

-

But, back to Avenel. It was weird 

how both places  -  the church and 

the firehouse, crimped up and

jammed their carnivals into these 

tiny and pretty rancid, spots. Their
idea was, in each case, to keep it
close to home. Maybe it saved the
park rental fee or something. Just

down not so far, there was a real

nice Avenel Park, at the end of

Park Avenue, in fact. Plenty of 

room, grounds, trees, shade,

places for the carnies to camp 

and sit about. Yet, it was never 

used, and, instead, each of these 

operations used the crummiest 

imaginable format for their stuff. 
The park formats really could have
worked, but who's to expect wide
thinking from a small place?
I realized, very soon, that a 
person could either live in their 
own 'small world', and be satisfied 
with that, or go off into the large 
world and take their chances. 
The small world outlook could
suffice, yes, but then you're just
stuck with small world ways. Here,
the carnival staffs were so small

they didn't even, as I said, get

allowances for their own, 

well-worn and streamlined, 

food service; which is probably 

where the real money was

anyway. You'd get neighbor 

guys instead, flinging the 

hot dogs and the hamburgers. 

How boring. How trite. 

Absolutely no excitement

at all. And damn,

how Avenel.