When I'm stopped at a red light I always find it fascinating to look at what other drivers are doing, especially if I can't see their whole faces. I don't know, maybe that's kind of creepy, but I'm always curious to guess what the person looks like from their hands or elbows or ears, to know what it is they're thinking about or where they're going. There are so many stories happening all around, all the time--in my worst moments it almost feels like I'm drowning in them, but in my best it's inspiring.
The Art of Conversation
I wondered, as I was walking past the man in the bow tie, what his tickets were for. A concert, I suppose, or maybe a comedy or magic show. But I didn't stop to ask, I broke my stride only long enough to snap this picture. He noticed me, then looked away when it was clear I wasn't stopping to inquire. Then I moved on, toward the barbecue booth a short ways down where Juliette and her sister had decided we'd eat. I suppose he went on standing there.
My birthday was on Saturday, so we took the occasion to take the kids to the fair, along with Juliette's sister Noelle and brother-in-law Ricardo. It was our first time going to the fair in five or six years--the first time ever for Ricardo and the kids--and both Juliette and I noticed how much more crowded it was than we remembered. None of us were quite sure why, though I suspect it had something to do with the economy and the cheap price of entry compared to the local amusement parks.
I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting that afternoon, but it wasn't a corral full of people getting makeovers from sailors, next to a stage where other, more scantily clad sailors were tap-dancing. I'm not sure if the DJ was expecting to have his picture taken by a shlubby-looking guy in worn-out jeans and scuffed New Balance sneakers, but I guess it was a day of surprises for everyone.
Ice Cream Truck
I still remember the excitement I felt as a kid when the chiming notes of "The Entertainer" would waft in through my bedroom window at my dad's house. It's funny, I probably only ever actually bought anything from an ice cream truck a handful of times, yet the memory of that song and that bedroom and that feeling remain in my mind. Much more than the actual treats, and certainly much more than the people driving the trucks, who were probably at least as bored as "Tammy" here.
Juliette doesn't have these memories, growing up out in the sticks as she did. Even my town, where I grew up with my mom, was too small and rural for ice cream trucks--I only ever heard them on the weekends my brother and I spent at our dad's. But now I live in a city, on a normal suburban block, and I see an ice cream truck go by every couple of days. I wonder what my own kids will think about that, thirty years from now.
I guess I'll just have to wait and see.