Coming through the streets by the Lakeshore there is the buzz and busyness of construction and of the regular day. There is an old ship with a rusted hull and full of character that sits somewhere out by the docks that lead to the great lake. The sun is up, full, and it’s beginning to get quite hot. I can see the Princess Gates soon, and the statues look marvelous, re-done, polished though they seem matted.
Inside those gates are the outdoor areas and the indoor. The fairgrounds themselves are pretty much the same but no less interesting. Up some steps and along a large parapet they can be seen almost in their entirety. The wheels almost like Catherine wheels but slower, turn and spin, and if it’s not fireworks they spit out, it’s still some invisible magic. There are all the other rides, - the coasters, the cars, and the carts…the haunted houses and space ships and other. The sounds of excited yells, of motors, music, bands, conversations…all throw themselves across the air in a thousand directions…
The food building is there, open and spacious, but they don’t have gum, chocolate bars, give-aways or good deals. That is one sad thing; - they intentionally ‘dried’ all that up over the years. Where are the hats and stickers?, the coupons and little fun patches, pins, keepsakes, tokens, balloons, whistles, key chains, and all that?- the new generations doesn’t even miss them because they never saw them. Ah…too bad it is,- for that is what helped make the place so different, soulful, full of its own type of character and signature. No worries, - things go on.
All the weird and strange people, lol. They are interesting are they not, - even if you wouldlike to keep a full half of them at bay. They say there is no such thing as normal, but that is just a liberal saying. There is in actuality a bit of a thing approaching ‘normal.’ But I like the oddities also, - I didn’t know that piercings could be pierced in some of those places, - or that someone could get that much ink into their bodies, - and I think there were some colors of hair not yet identified by the color spectrums of science itself. Sometimes these things work for people, - and it comes together- fits, is cool. Other times it appears tacky, gauche. It all depends.
I like the ‘countries of the world,’ if that is what they still call it. A truly representative collection of booths, vendors, and in a modern pristine state of the art building, - air conditioned, carpeted, spacious, welcoming. They have everything from silly kitchen kitsch, say an ornament that aunt Louise or Martha used to collect of a turtle or dolphin, - to the earthier, even esoteric beads and runes. I am attracted to the booths, wares, people, and books, of the booths that say Tibet, Nepal, Vietnam, Singapore, and India. I keep floating over and stopping to gaze and touch their sweaters, cloths, blankets, bracelets, beads and wooden necklaces,- to speak to the people also, and ask questions about the history, making, origin of the products, though product does not do the items justice and perhaps one should say ‘crafts’ or 'artworks'.
We will leave before the night. But I can remember and imagine the midway outside with itsgreat visual symphony of electrical lights,- greens, blues, purples, whites, oranges, reds, pinks and yellows- some flashing, some not,- some spinning, others stationary. The whistles of the rides somehow gets faster, louder,- the crowds move in,- there is music, and again, the talk, the carnival barkers by the games,- water, guns, balloons, chairs, bikes, colored drinks, flags, cameras, signs, hats, glasses, necklaces,- and people walk through these sights and sounds, these new nocturnal noises and visuals of the that come from and go to a thousand directions at once.