Remembering the circus

Once in awhile, you can go back in time.

When I was in grade school, my grandpa brought my brother and I to the circus here in Fort Scott. I can remember being particularly amazed at a young aerialist, who swung effortlessly through the air and didn't look much older than we were at the time.

I remember thinking, "This looks like an exciting life, and I can see why people could be attracted to it."

As the saying goes, "They ran off with the circus."

At the conclusion, grandpa took us down by the old Katy Depot, where the circus train was waiting. We watched them load the elephants and, once again, I saw my idol of the moment, the trapeze boy, helping with the loading.

Fast forward close to 60 years; I watched the same thing happen, only this time, through the eyes of three grandchildren, 11, seven, and three, as we attended a one-ring circus in Garnett last Saturday.

After the pony ride for the little one and cotton candy for all, we made our way into the big top, or maybe it was a medium top, where we were treated to an evening of animals, aerialists, and lots of opportunities to buy things, but, none-the-less, the magic was in the air.

The three-year-old, who is a perpetual motion machine, sat spellbound for close to two hours.

We laughed at the clown catching a potato on a fork, and oohed and aahed as a nine-year-old performed at the top of the tent on a balancing pole.

We did manage to pas on riding the elephants at $5 per person.

But, for a moment in time, I saw myself being transported back to the fairgrounds in Bourbon County, especially when I heard the two older grandkids say, "Wouldn't it be fun to be in the circus?"

For a couple of hours on Saturday, we were, and it was a good trip.