Letters from Hillside Farm (8 page)

May 7, 1938

Saturday

Dear Grandma,

A couple of weeks ago I noticed a big poster on the side of a barn as we were driving into Link Lake. The poster pictured a huge lion and a giraffe and in big red letters announced that the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus is coming to Willow River, which is not that far from our farm. I've never seen a circus, and I asked Pa if we can go. He reminded me that we have lots of work to do, but he said he'll think about it.

Pa didn't say another word about going to the circus until this morning at breakfast, when he said right out of the blue that we should drive over to Willow River and see what that circus was all about. Annie burst out with a big “yippee!” I was so surprised that Pa decided that we could go, I couldn't say anything. I think even Ma was looking forward to seeing the circus, although she didn't say so. She's not one to say much, especially about things like a circus that require some extra money. She keeps track of all the money that we take in on the farm, and she questions every time Pa buys something. Circus tickets cost fifty cents for adults and twenty-five cents for kids, so it would cost our family a dollar and a half to attend.

We hurried up with our chores because Pa said we should try to get to Willow River in time to see the circus parade, which started at eleven. While I helped with the chores, I made sure not to ask why we weren't working in the fields today—Pa said just yesterday that it will soon be time to plant corn.

Willow River was running over with people who had come to see the parade and the circus performance. We found a parking place not far from Main Street and elbowed our way through the crowd to a spot where we could see the parade.

I did overhear Ma saying that maybe we should just see the parade, which was free. Pa said that as long as we were in Willow River, we might as well see the circus performance as well. Ma gave him kind of a frosty look, but there we were, about to watch the circus parade and then see the circus performance at two o'clock as well.

We hadn't waited more than ten minutes when I heard band music and saw a man on horseback riding right down the middle of Main Street. Behind the rider came an enormous wagon pulled by six horses, with a band riding on top playing wonderful music. Next was a wagon with a lion inside. He looked like he was sleeping. And then came the most exciting thing of all: elephants! At least a dozen of them marched down the street, their handlers walking alongside. I've never seen an elephant before, except in books, and are they ever big! Grandma, they are enormous! Then came the clowns, all dressed up and with their faces painted silly, some of them wearing shoes way too big for them. Annie couldn't contain herself. She was clapping and jumping up and down. I don't think I've ever seen her so happy. Even Ma was laughing.

The parade went on for nearly an hour, and when it was over, we got back in the car and drove to a big field just outside of town. The field looked like a city of tents. Pa bought our tickets at a little booth, and then we walked over toward a huge tent—Pa said it is called the Big Top. On our way there we walked through a smaller tent called the Menagerie, which is a kind of zoo, I guess. Animals from all over the world were lined up in cages: hyenas and tigers, lions and wild hogs, zebras and long-necked giraffes, and snakes that if given a chance would crush you to death and eat you for lunch. At one end of that tent, the elephants were chained to metal stakes driven in the ground. They stood there eating hay and ignoring the crowds of people walking by.

I saw Pa looking at his pocket watch, and then he motioned for us to follow him into the Big Top. Inside the tent I heard the circus band playing lively music—very different music than what I listen to on the radio coming from the WLS
Barn Dance Show
in Chicago. We found seats on bleachers that surrounded three marked-off circles in the tent, which Pa told me are called rings. The rings were maybe twenty feet across.

We'd hardly gotten settled in when I heard a loud whistle, and a man with a red coat and white pants and a tall hat walked out in the center of the one of the rings. He grabbed a microphone and in a loud voice said, “Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, welcome to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus!” Then, even louder, he shouted, “The greatest show on earth!”

Before the words were out of his mouth, the band was playing again and a woman rode into the ring on an elephant, followed by performers, horses, clowns—I guess everyone in the circus paraded around in front of us. All of a sudden four fancy riding horses began tearing around one of the other rings as a man with a long whip stood in the middle. With the snap of his whip, all the horses stopped, whirled around, and ran in the other direction.

Pa pointed to the center ring, and I quickly looked in that direction to see, way up in the Big Top tent, a lady on a trapeze bar swinging back and forth, back and forth. A good distance away from her, a man was swinging by his feet from another trapeze bar. Grandma, when that woman let go I was sure she would fall and be killed. But before you could snap your fingers, the man swinging across from her caught her by the wrists. It was surely something to see.

The show went on for nearly two hours, and it was just about the best thing I have ever seen. Annie was clapping and yelling nearly the whole time. Ma and Pa were grinning, and I even saw Ma laugh when a bunch of clowns crawled out of a little car. It was the first time I've seen Ma laugh since we moved to Wisconsin.

Everybody in the Big Top was having a great time. I would guess for most of them it was a rare chance to take their minds off their troubles and the Great Depression that has its grip on the country.

I didn't tell Ma or Pa this, but I think I might try some of the tricks that I saw in the Big Top yesterday. Our big cattle barn would be a good place to try them out. Our barn is a little like the Big Top, with ropes and pulleys running this way and that. I might even try to put on a circus for the neighbor kids. What do you think?

It was a good day, Grandma.

Your grandson,

George

Dear George,

How lucky you are to have seen a real circus, and the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus, at that! When I was your age, the Ringling Brothers performed in our area, but I never got to see them. Your great-grandfather said we just didn't have money to waste on a circus. My brothers and I were so disappointed. But my father usually knew best.

So thank you for telling me what you saw, and what you thought of it all. I felt as if I were right there with you. It sounds like little Annie and your folks enjoyed the show, too. Sometimes we all need to put our troubles aside and see something like a circus. I'm so pleased you had a chance to have a fun day. And now you are planning to hold your own circus for the neighbor children. That sounds like so much fun. I wish I could be there to help you. Be sure to tell me what you decide to do.

Keep writing. I so enjoy hearing about all your adventures.

Love,

Grandma S.

P.S. How are things going with Amos Woodward? Is he still causing you problems?

May 8, 1938

Sunday

Dear Grandma,

Today was Mother's Day. I wanted to do something special for Ma, but I nearly got into trouble for my efforts.

When we got home from church, I asked Annie if she wanted to go with me to find a Mother's Day present. I told her not to tell Ma, and she didn't.

After the noon meal, when Ma was busy in the kitchen, I took Annie by the hand and we headed for the big woods back of the house. Pa said that he'd seen some violets at the edge of the woods, in a clearing on top of a hill. I thought Ma would be pleased if Annie and I gave her a bouquet of violets. Of course, we don't have money to buy her anything.

We went into the woods on an old logging trail that Pa told me about a while back. All the trees are shaking off the grays and browns of winter and turning many shades of green. Grandma, Annie is just filled with questions. Before we had gotten only a little ways in the woods she grabbed my hand and asked me if there are wolves there. I told her that maybe at one time there were, but not anymore. Then she asked about bears. She is really a 'fraidy cat. I told her that sometimes there might be bears around, but that we wouldn't see any. She said she surely didn't want to see a bear. I read someplace that bears are more afraid of us than we of them, and I told Annie that, but from the look on her face I knew she didn't believe me. Then I told her that the chances of us seeing a bear were about as good as having a bobcat run across the trail in front of us. I wished I hadn't mentioned bobcats, because now Annie wanted to know if one of those was around the next corner.

I pointed to a squirrel that scampered up a tree just ahead of us, and I said she should listen to the cawing of a crow that I spotted at the top of a big oak tree. But she had her little blond head fixed on wolves, bears, and bobcats. She squeezed my hand tightly as we walked, and she was humming a little tune that I couldn't identify. I asked her what it was. Here's how the discussion went:

“A song,” she said.

I told her I knew it was a song and asked what song.

“I'm not telling,” she said.

“Why not?”

“'Cause you'll laugh.”

“I won't laugh,” I told her.

“A keep-the-bears-away song,” she whispered.

“You and your bears,” I said.

“You said you wouldn't laugh.”

I told her I wasn't laughing, only smiling. We had been climbing for a while, and now we came to the top of a hill to an opening where no trees or underbrush grow. I told Annie to look at the ground.

“Posies,” she said.

“They're violets, Annie. Aren't they pretty?”

I showed her how to pick them so the stems would be long enough for Ma to put them in a water glass. Soon we each had a fine bouquet of violets, mostly dark purple, but some with lavender petals. I told Annie to hold them tight, but not too tight.

We headed toward home, thoughts of bears, wolves, and bobcats forgotten.

I was sure Ma would be surprised. She had spotted us coming out of the woods, and she was waiting for us on the porch. Right away she asked where we had been. She said she had been worried sick about us, and she looked really mad. Then she looked right at me and said, “George, you know you're not supposed to go into the woods. You should know better. What if something happened to you and Annie?”

I didn't know what to say, so I just walked up to her and handed her the bouquet of violets and said, “Happy Mother's Day.”

Annie did the same, only she said, “Happy 'other's Day.”

I have never seen such a surprised look on Ma's face. One minute she looked very angry, then she looked surprised, and then she burst into tears. She hugged each of us and said, “Thank you, thank you. What a perfect Mother's Day.” She put both of our bouquets in glasses of water and set them in the middle of the kitchen table.

That was a close one, Grandma. But it turned out to be a good day.

Your grandson,

George