Comings and goings

After the ball is over
After the break of morn
After the dancers' leaving
After the stars are gone
Many a heart is aching
If you could read them all
Many the hopes that have vanished
After the ball
        -- Charles K. Harris, 1892

I drove down to Carson Park early this morning and watched as the carneys came to life after a long, hot weekend.

It’s no wonder that so many were sleeping in. Most of the work that had to be done in preparation for moving on was undertaken as soon as the last customers left – in the cool hours after midnight and before dawn.

These travelers live in a rather elaborate camp – almost a village -- on the perimeter of the carnival grounds. Many stay in large campers or trailers and obviously enjoy most of the comforts of home; others are crammed into sleeping units, two people in each of a half-dozen tiny rooms jammed together in an 18-wheeler-sized rolling apartment house that offers only enough room to sleep and get dressed.

I wanted to engage some of these early risers in conversation, but they weren’t very responsive. At first, I thought they were suspicious of my motives, then I thought they were just naturally secretive or aloof; but I finally realized that these folks were simply dog-tired. They had worked long hours all weekend in high heat and humidity and then stayed up most of the night packing and loading.

Had I known that the dismantling of rides and other activity relating to packing and preparing to move on was underway, I might have ventured down to Half Moon Lake here in Eau Claire, Wisconsin late last night…to watch.

Most major events require a lot of planning. Those who come to participate or watch are unaware of the many details to which organizers must attend – unaware, that is, unless those details are NOT attended to.

Not having enough porta-potties, not having enough amps or watts for power, not ensuring that there’s adequate parking, not preparing for the size crowd that shows up, and not planning for emergencies can all lead to disaster.

One of the biggest event-disasters of the 20th century was the Woodstock music festival. Planners missed by a mile on virtually every estimate they made. 60s-era folks remember the event with fondness; but it was a planning disaster.

Even when events come off just as if planned by the A-Team (who “love it when a plan comes together”), it’s fun to watch the set-up and tear-down – well, maybe not fun for everyone, but fun for Wandering Dave.

Though there’s typically little talk, and workers seem to be moving about at random, the work gets done – and quickly.

Maybe it’s the here-today-gone-tomorrow nature of events that appeals to me. I like things with finite beginnings and endings.

By now, most of those carneys are probably en route to their next destination. Singing “On the Road Again,” they’re hoping for cooler temps and lower humidity when they drive in stakes and begin the age-old cycle once again.

Under other circumstances, I might be feeling a twinge of envy; but I’m a vagabond, too. Maybe I’ll see them in Middleton next weekend.