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January 2013

When kids are different, you just know. You can tell ~ adults can tell. And the quiet kids were never, well, you know, they just don’t fit in. And if you don’t fit in at the beginning, you never really fit in, ever, do you? ~ The Circus Project

As we continue to bask in the glory of a decade of this website (a.k.a. contemplate how wretchedly old we’ve become), today’s Project spotlight shines on the work that was released in April of 2008 ~ The Circus Project. Like any parent, I’m not supposed to have favorites, but if I did The Circus Project would be one of them. It weaves a loose narrative of a lost young man taking up with a traveling circus for a season among photographs that hint at what a life like that might be. More important was the underlying theme of what it means to be an outsider, and what it feels like to never belong.

He grew up quietly, secretly… smartly. Never betraying his hand, never indicating a weakness ~ he had to, he had no choice. What does that do to a person? What does that do to a boy? It’s never cut and dry, never black and white. His shading was… not gray, not dim so much… I hesitate to say darker… his was… quicksilver. It couldn’t be bound by color or description – it defied everything. Yes, that’s what it was – defiance. And he would bleed for it. I think we’ll all bleed for it.

He liked being a part of us, but he enjoyed being alone too. I’ve seen a few solitary circus types, and they’re… different, even for circus folk. You join the circus to be a part of something, when you don’t fit in anywhere else. Loners don’t last long here.

There was one way to escape from the circus. You had to become the ring-leader, the master-of-cermeonies, and you had to chart your own course and destiny. It was that or die.

There’s a cardinal rule, red as sin and diabolically inviolable: there can only be one ring leader.

And they always end up being resented for it…

~ The Circus Project ~

One of the few consolations for getting through an upstate New York winter (particularly if you don’t ski) is finding solace in the fact that fellow winter-weatherers are going through the same thing. My friend JoAnn usually makes it up to visit at some point in January or February – and her visit acts as a bit of an oasis in the frigid expanse of this most dismal season. We don’t go out much – just a trip to Faddegon’s for the greenhouse, and maybe the Fresh Market for dinner supplies – and the rest of the time we stay cozy and warm in the house, sipping cocktails in the candlelight or watching a movie snuggled in the heavy plush blankets in the cellar. Here are a few of my favorite winter movies to watch on such nights, when the winds whip around the house, and the ice and snow threaten the air:

Beautiful Girls - Set in the snowy winter and based on one man’s return to his hometown for a high school reunion, this ensemble piece makes the most of its winter setting, with some ice skating and ice fishing scenes, and an enchanting turn by a young Natalie Portman.

Nobody’s Fool – Paul Newman stars in this upstate New York tale of an aging construction guy, whose lackluster life is mirrored by its wintry surroundings and cheerless snowy nights.

Boys on the Side – This road trip with Whoopi Goldberg, Drew Barrymore, and Mary-Louise Parker starts off in a Northeast winter, when the girls begin their journey wrapped in coats and dowdy winter hats, but finishes in the sun and warmth of the Southwest. That’s the kind of road trip that inhabits my winter dreams.

Why Did I Get Married – While one of the weaker movies here, the snowy backdrop of a winter weekend get-away lends it a cozy feel, and watching Tyler Perry act all butch is always an awkward exercise in pained entertainment. Janet Jackson is here, and she doesn’t embarrass herself too badly, but it’s Tasha Smith as Angela who steals the show.

It sat in the midst of all that chaos – a single ancient key, probably not even fitted to any of the doors currently in place, but retained, as so much of our useless baggage is, “just in case.” A sad-looking thing – items that have lost their purpose or become obsolete are always sad to me – it still holds onto its form, an obstinate refusal to change or morph into something else. Maybe it will be left for those next in line, or maybe it will be thrown out. Some things serve their purpose, and, having done so, depart with grace and no further ado. Maybe someone will hang onto it, carrying it with them as they move somewhere new. It is possible to imbue something with meaning where none really exists. We are, after all, living in a material world. But that’s another story, one that has already been written, and one that will be written all over again. One day, beyond the scope of what most of us can imagine, this key will cease to exist.

Every once in a while I’ll have these thoughts. I’ll question everything I thought I knew, like I did in one of the first courses I ever took at college – an Introduction to Astronomy – when the professor presented us with galaxy upon galaxy, endlessly advancing, and I’ll feel so small and insignificant I momentarily fail to see the point of one more minute. But the moment passes, as does the minute, and then another, and my pondering is replaced by the mundane, the habitual, the continued ebb and flow of life, and I can forget the big questions once again, lulled by a false, yet honest, sense of reality.

Do not ask me what it’s all about. Do not force me into a philosophical conversation about what it all means. Do not even reference this post. I’ll laugh it off. I’ll joke it away. I’ll distill it into the mad ramblings of a moon-fed lunatic. We are all fools. Stay on the inside of the joke.

As forecast and felt in the previous week, we have our first official thaw of the season. The air is thick with fog, water vapor rolls off the snow banks, and the tree limbs of the cherry dangle water droplets like Christmas lights – each orb taking in the muted light and dispersing it in more focused brightness. I don’t dare step into it, for fear of taking in a breath of Spring that is far too far away. Sometimes it’s best not to taste it, so unbearable would the return to our regular winter weather be.

Yesterday the birds were taking turns at the bird bath. A cardinal splashed around in it first, chased away by a pair of bullying bluejays. A woodpecker swayed on the tallest stalks of the sturdy fountain grass, and a squirrel slinked along the backyard fence. Even though it’s winter, the world is still alive, the pulse still beats beneath the melting snow.