PAUSE

THERE'S A PLACE where time stands still; or so I thought. Maybe I was just trying to will the clock and the calendar to slow down.

BROOKE AND JEREMIAH; KYLE AND MALACHI ON THE FERRIS WHEEL AT THE HINTON FAIR

There seems to be an age at which we grow more nostalgic. For me it was somewhere around 17. Could be that wasn't nostalgia; more of a youthful sentimentality (if there is such a thing.) Now though at 70-something, I long for a place of nostalgia, a return to the good old days when even in politics most everyone agreed with the admonition to Richard M. Nixon: Don't let the screen door on the back porch of the White House hit you in the rear end on your way out, as he resigned in 1974.

I long for those halcyon days when it was clear the best music ever was being created: Paul McCartney, John Lennon, Brian Wilson, Bob Dylan, Stevie Wonder, Neal Young, Carole King, Stephen Stills, Jimi Hendrix, Grace Slick, Dolly Parton, Marvin Gaye, Jimmy Webb, Paul Simon, Dave Brubeck, Miles Davis... just to mention a few.

Sorry. I drifted off into that sweet place a few decades back, driving up and down Peoria Ave on a Friday night with Crosby, Stills and Nash playing "Suite Judy Blue Eyes" on the 8-Track. I'm back to the future now.

We need a place where we can pause every now and then, but those places where time will slow or pause are harder to find these days, or so it seems to me. When we do get to pause though we can glimpse what is important: our shared humanity, hopefulness, possibilities, joy and a peaceful moment or two. It happens waiting in line to ride the merry-go-round, or Ferris wheel. It happens sharing a funnel cake, just pulled from the grease, served on a dixie paper plate, covered in powered sugar, or blowing on a too-hot corn dog, while listening to the whistle of the little red train coming out of the tunnel.

I realize that even while watching children ride the little kiddie cars, or trying to pop balloons with darts that I'm not a child any more. Still; the pause works, because the emotions are the same, the feelings of glee when winning a prize, the terror of getting on the Tilt-A-Whirl seen in the faces of the young are still real.

I've been listening a lot lately to a song by Switchfoot called "Beloved". Here's verse 3:

The questions that we're too afraid to ask
'Cause the present is the future of the past
'Cause the river is the same, but moving fast lately
And maybe every other is a we
Maybe differences are easier to see
Than a family we are that's underneath, maybe
I start to recognize that I need you
Like you need me

For a few hours in the hot, dusty midway of the Hinton Free Fair, we were all just there to live in the glow of the colored lights and happy sounds. Differences be damned. I'm off to find the homemade ice cream stand.