Airtime

Looking back on 2010, well, I've done that in a previous post, so I won't go over all the details again. Suffice it to say, it had more ups and downs than the Legend rollercoaster at Arnold's Park -- and it had the same amount of that exquisite property called "air time". You know what I mean: when you're lifted off your seat and hanging in the air for just a wisp of a second. Some folks like it; other's like yours truly just don't trust it, have no care for it. Or at least that's how I used to size it up.

Today, December 31, the cover closes on the tome. The bows are tied, buttons buttoned, and all is put safely into the box of memories and lessons learned. But the concept of airtime stays with me and will continue to do so, because it's one of the most powerful lessons I learned while Roadtripping this year. Wouldn't have thought it before my visit to that vintage Iowa park, but things change, wisdom grows. And old constricts sometimes need to be plowed away.

During airtime, you float. There isn't much else to do. It's a tickle-tummy sensation: a little scary, a little unnerving, but all in all rather a safe place. During airtime, you can't necessarily plan for the next hill, nor can you curse the last. You are bound by the laws of physics to simply "be".

2010 held many moments I fought with, railed against. Cursed and spat at. But other moments were cherished so tightly that I feared they'd be suffocated by my need to preserve and adulate them. So highly revered, beatified even. But airtime can't be fought, or preserved. It asks nothing, gives nothing back that can be saved and stored. What I've come to learn through all this is that those moments of airtime are where holiness lies. Where God basically holds you and lets you take a breath and just be. Where you both gasp in, ever so quickly, together.

May 2011 hold you in its gentle grasp, lightly. Then bounce you up when you least expect it and let you hover there, taking in all there is without judgement, bias or fear.

Reindeer Games.

Zoinks, the past week's been brimming with activity (including cookie-making, the all-important cookie-making), so many apologies for not posting an update in a while. It's been a wild hodge podge of actual v.o. work (Ta-Ra!!) and rehearsing/performing our old time radio show, and cleaning and clearing the house and running around like the proverbial headless poultry. Ah... time to sit down with a gingerbread latte and focus on the season at hand.

We're having Ben's dad and step-mom over for Christmas Eve, so I spent more time today finding and buying last-minute things, especially foodstuffs for the happy event. I found some great cheeses and fig spread, kalamata olives and salty/savory/sweet nuts. Not to mention the Prosecco. Gotta have the Prosecco. And egg nog and cookies and then you just spin the wheel and start wherever it leaves you, cuz anything I've just listed is good eats.

The above photo is from Santa's North Pole Workshop just outside Pike's Peak. Their carousel has no horses, just reindeer. As it should be. Here's one of them. Can you tell who it is??

A very Merry Christmas to all, and to all a lot of nummy goodies. You deserve it.

A Coney Island state of mind...

I'm chomping at the bit to visit Coney Island. I keep reading articles on Facebook about how the place is being changed forever; I want to visit it and steep myself in as much of the "original" as I can as quickly as I can. So I was heartened when I read today that although developers are obliterating a lot of the vintage, they are keeping the old Coney Island Theatre, listed in the Register of Historic Places.

Old theatres. If I wasn't writing a book about vintage amusement parks, I'd probably be doing the same for old theatres, epecially those with vaudeville, "legit" histories. I recall a grand house, the Berwyn Theatre, at the corner of Cermak and Oak Park in Berwyn, IL. I learned that a distant relative of mine had performed there in theatrical productions with a Bohemian acting troupe back in the early 1900s. I remember when they decided to tear it down, wrecking ball in action as I drove by. I could see the pink stucco interior gaping through the downed wall like flesh exposed by a fatal blow. And its soul flew up, up, up.

So kudos to the powers that be for helping the Coney Island Theatre to remain. I look forward to visitng next summer.

"So shines a good deed in a weary world..."

http://www.carouselofhappiness.org/flashcarousel/flash.html

What would you do if you found the base of an old carousel (dating back to the early 1900s) and someone told you it was ready for the junk heap, to be sold for parts and materials? Would you simply say, 'Oh well, that's too bad." and move on? Or would you buy it, refurbish it, and then spend the next 25 years fashioning a new carousel around it, complete with a menagerie of wooden animals you carved from scratch? Oh, and I'll also add that you've never carved a thing before in your life?

There's a folksy, hand-hewn miracle up in Nederland, CO and it's called "The Carousel of Happiness". It's the kind of alchemical event that can happen when an enterprising person with a a simple desire to make people happy is in the right place at the right time and gets the right kind of angelic nudge to make something amazing.

The quote in my title line, which is found on a plaque inside the carousel building, is from "The Merchant of Venice". But most people might be more familiar with it from the climax of "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory" when Wonka realizes that Charlie Bucket it pure of heart and worthy of all the riches and happiness he can bequeath him.

The Carousel of Happiness is one man's gift to Nederland, to those who visit the small mountain town, and everyone who has that shining pure light of soul.

And that means you.

"Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans"

Well, I'll just jump in with it: it's the 30th anniversary of the assassination of John Lennon. I remember it like it was yesterday: writing in my diary that night, filling it with all the teenagery details of my day, when my Mom knocked on the door with the news. My parents let me stay home the next day; I was devastated. When I went back to school, I had to write in the attendance logs my reason for absence. I wrote, "a friend died". Because he had.

And 82 years ago, my Mom, Beatrice Novak, was born. And I truly believe both of these angels are busy in heaven, looking down on us all, making the world a little bit better in any way they can.

Love you, my angels.

"American Pickers" are my new heroes!!!!

I love them, I think they rock, and I think they are the bestest people in the world right now, at this moment in time. Forget about Oprah and Gandhi. I'm all about the Antique Archeology guys on the History Channel.

Not just because they're cool and kinda dangerous and seek out nifty old crap to buy and turn a profit on. Not because they like finding crazy stuff, like taxidermy animals posed in interesting ways, or an 8-foot tall cowboy boot, or giant papier mache heads which they don and dance around in. No, no, no. I love them because they "get" it. They get what history means in regard to vintage parks.

Case in point, this evening's episode, wherein the guys visit Bushkill Amusement Park, which has been closed for 4 years due to an enormous flood. They visited and bought a myriad of cool things including two side show canvas posters. Which they later found out were worth $10,000 for the pair.

They paid $200.

So what did they do? They knew the man who now owns Bushkill is trying to amass funds to start putting the park back together. And so the boys went back to the park and handed over a cool 5 grand, to the amazement and gratitude of the stunned park owner.

I've visited many a park which has fallen or is near to falling on hard times. Bushkill was originally slated to be a part of my Roadtrip, but then I learned it had been sitting dormant for years. The Pickers came upon the park and could see the history, treasured its uniqueness, it's "rough around the edges" exterior(very rough, as the park was hit by a hurricane and was basically flattened by eleven feet of water in its midway). And they saw what the park meant to the owner and they clearly valued the importance of preserving this piece of Americana.

Rock on Mike and Frank. Rock on, Picking dudes! You are most righteous.

Sunday on the blog with one great photo!!

A dream is a wish your heart makes...

Happy Birthday to Walt Disney, with much gratitude for all the playfulness, wonder and magic he's given us. Walt means a great deal to Ben and I. And the spirit of Walt permeates a lot of my Cotton Candying.

Thanks, Uncle Walt.

Disneyland, June, 2007