The Angel of the Backyard Carnival
The Angel of the Backyard Carnival
A homemade carnival ride? That got her guardian angel's attention!
Merry-go-rounds! Bumper cars! Ferris wheels!
My little sister, Patty, and I didn’t know where to look first at the Ripley Gala Days carnival in downtown Ripley, New York. Then my eye fell on the carousel horses moving slowly up and down, like something out of a fairy tale. “I want to ride those,” I said.
“Hmmph,” said Daddy. He wasn’t impressed by anything at the carnival. He let us have our fun, but his mind was made up. The Ferris wheel wasn’t high enough. The rickety cars that went round in a bumpy circle were a poor excuse for a ride. The 35-cent admission was “an arm and a leg.”
Riding home in the car, with me and Patty gnawing candy apples in the backseat, Daddy was still grumbling. “A fella could make rides better than that for free.”
Daddy just couldn’t appreciate a painted horse or a slow turn on the Ferris wheel. A truck driver and a World War II veteran, Daddy loved machines.
When my boy cousins came to visit he showed them all his greasy engines in his workshop. They built things and played ball together, and Daddy never had to worry about being too rough.
Once, watching Daddy race across the grass with my daredevil cousin Tommy on his shoulders, I wondered if he didn’t wish Tommy was his child instead of a girl like me who would rather draw than saw, was too scared for roller coasters, thought the seesaw went too high and had the most fun in her life riding that pink pony on the merry-go-round.
The day after the carnival, Patty and I took our stick horses out for a gallop. I’d just thrown my leg over my horse’s broom handle body when the sound of a drill pierced the air.
“What’s that?” Patty asked, pointing to some new contraption that had sprung up on the lawn while we were watching our Saturday morning cartoons. It looked like a car axle with a wheel rim attached. We galloped over to Daddy’s workshop where Daddy was drilling a plank.
“What’re you doin’?” we asked.
Daddy straightened up. “Well’p, I’m making a carnival ride.”
Patty and I jumped up and down. A carnival ride right in our own backyard! I could already see the horses going up and down. I could ride on it all night long if I wanted!
“How does it work?” said Patty.
“When will it be done?” I asked.
Daddy’s broad chest swelled with pride. “It’ll be better than those namby-pamby rides downtown,” he assured us. “Look!” He pointed to the end of the plank where he had attached one of the many lawn mower engines he collected.
I took a step back and wrinkled up my nose. Daddy’s engines were loud, smoky and more than a little scary.
“The carnival uses engines too,” Daddy said in defense. “Little, weak engines. They just hide them inside those colored boxes.” For Daddy, of course, the engine was the best part. Why would anyone want to hide it?
“I wonder what we’re gonna ride,” Patty whispered as Daddy went back to drilling. “I hope it’s horses.”
“Or cars in different colors,” I said. “Or shiny planes. Or angels!”
Our Sunday school teacher said every one of us had an angel to protect us. What could be better for a safe, fun ride? Angels with wings painted white and gold, prettier than the finest carousel. The kids at school would be so jealous. Even Margaret who had her own real-life pony.
But the best thing of all was that this was something Daddy was building for us. He’d never built anything like it for my boy cousins. Maybe he wasn’t disappointed having me, after all.
We followed him out to the axle and watched him bolt the plank at its center. “You sit there,” he said, pointing to the bare end of the plank. The engine was at the other end, near the axle. Daddy bolted a propeller to it.