Carousel

According to Holly Near, Merry-go-round gonna make you smile. Hot clam chowder gonna drown those sea bottom, you got ‘em, blues for a while. Go to the slide, dime for a ride, and slide, slide, slide. Playing at the pier, the Santa Monica Pier.

I spent lots of time at the pier when I visited Santa Monica as a child. My favorite spot was the penny arcade, but I also rode the carousel’s brightly painted horses, sea creatures, and carriages. Some of the animals moved up and down while the platform circled; they were the only ones worth getting on, even with the seat belts to keep their little passengers safe. A marvel of mechanized instruments produced jangly music redolent of cotton candy and sun tan lotion.

Family lore was that my grandparents had a connection to the owner of the carousel; my cousins were allowed on special occasions to ride for free. There used to be a dispenser of brass rings suspended above the ride, and catching one would entitle you to a free ride. My cousins’ ride was already free, but they kept grabbing for the ring to show their prowess. I don’t remember the rings, and wouldn’t have been able to reach them with my stubby little arms anyway.

I could have reached the rings if the horses were like those in Mary Poppins that broke away from the carousel and cantered off into the landscape. This doesn’t happen in real life.

Carousels entertain by moving in circles without going anywhere. Our planet also moves in circles. The seasons cycle through and all of us travel through space only to return to roughly the same place a year later and a year older. Things that happened before happen again; the same, but a bit different. As they say, history doesn’t repeat itself, but it rhymes. We address the same situations and problems over and over and over again, but each time with a little more experience, a little more perspective, a little more wisdom.

That’s what I think on a good day, anyway. May it be so.