| Jessi ( @ 2004-04-03 19:34:00 |
“Breaker, Breaker 1-9, Radio check,” I spoke hesitantly
into the handheld microphone. I don’t remember exactly how old I was when I
first spoke those words, but it is safe to say that it happened long before the
tender age of 4, and I repeated them countless times throughout my childhood.
Sometimes, I find myself using them even now, an adult in the “real world.” I no
longer have my own CB radio, but my memories of using one are fond, and spin me
off into memories of my childhood.
My earliest
childhood memories all revolve around the carnival, around my status as a
“carnie brat” (a kid whose parents are carnies – a kid who grows up on a
carnival). I don’t remember the first time I went upside down on a carnival ride
or the first time I was allowed to walk to “midway” on my own. I was at home on
the “lot” and I walked around with pride. I was “with it.”
To any carnie
brat, the memories aren’t about riding the rides or playing the games. They are
about being a truck for 3 hours at a time without a bathroom break because you
have to reach the next city in time to slough. The memories are about hopping
out of a truck for the first time 3 hours and going to the bathroom and then
getting your hands dirty working. It’s not an easy life, by any means, but there
are perks. After hours of hard work, there are hours of hard play.
Sometimes, there were benefits of being a carnie brat. Anytime we came
across another carnival in some city or another, or even at “home,” I got free
passes. There was one year when I was about 12 that the carnies on one midway
decided to start a bet. They started a cash pool to see which one of them could
make get sick first. I got the best rides that year. I was still young enough to
ride a ride 4 or 5 times in a row and walk off in a perfectly straight line
(something we carnie brats really look for in each other, you know!) I never did
get sick, and I think I made a lot of the carnies angry at me. But I had a great
time at the carnival that year!
One thing I have to say about a carnie
brat is that I was never short on having toys. I never asked for toys for
Christmas – I always had more than enough. Every time we got a shipment of toys
in, I was allowed to take one or two for myself. I had toys of every kind, of
every shape and size. I had small stuffed animals, little glider jets, Chinese
fans with designs on them, tops, miniature pinball machines, great big stuffed
animals, an entire Disney collection of stuffed animals, framed pictures of
“carnie quality” and anything else that my little heart desired. I guess it was
a small payment for all the hard work I gave to that carnival during my
childhood.
In my house, we never answered the phone by saying “hello” or
anything of the sort. We answered the phone, “Sue-Z-Q-Rides and Expo, how may I
help you?” The business number shared with our personal number, so the only time
we didn’t answer a call with a business tone was when the Caller ID identified a
family member.
Carnie life was unique that is for sure, but I would be
naïve to think that I was the only person who grew up in such away. It may not
be usual, but it certainly is not singularly important in the events of human
kind. Yet – it certainly shaped my life in very unique ways. I still think like
a carnie, act like a carnie. I will always be a carnie brat.
At heart, I
miss those “breaker, breaker 1-9” moments. Every time I pass a carnival on the
street, I sigh with nostalgia and I walk the lot with the sly knowledge that I
will always be “with it,” that the carnival will never leave me. You might be
able to take the carnie brat off the carnival, but you can never take the
carnival out of the carnie brat.
So – to my comrades in rides
;-) – “Breaker, Breaker, 1-9er, radio check?”

















