50+ Lifestyles

PUBLISHER’S CORNER

By Eloise Graham

Memoirs: The Writing, The Sharing

Each of us has a story or two to tell. Memories of days, experiences or friends from our past. These little anecdotes can be a great legacy to pass on to friends, children and grandchildren. These can be very short, maybe only two or three paragraphs or a short poem. Other tales of adventures might be one or two pages.

There is a gentleman, Darrell Lietz, that will guide you in expressing your stories. He teaches classes in the writing of memoirs at Ridgecrest Retirement Village and Davenport Public Library Eastern Branch.

Darrell shared with me  a story that one class participant had written. I had set it aside because it is a summertime, warm weather, carnival/fair story. A few weeks ago as I was walking out of a store in the early evening a balmy breeze surrounded me. I thought of summer evenings and the local carnivals that we had in our hometown. I decided it was time to share this tale with you. Maybe it will bring your own memories to mind. After all, sharing our memoirs makes for commonalities with our friends and relatives.

The following is an adventure of summer, tilt-a-whirls and other rides, the food stations of carnival fare, and the Carnies that try to separate you from your money. The author is Brian Dugan. He was a participant in the Life Reflections: Turning Your Memories into a Memoir class at Eastern
Avenue Library.

Fool the Guesser.

by Brian Dugan

It was hot and humid on the afternoon in 1968 when Audrey and I walked into the RoyalAmerican Shows. The circus was a regular sight on the Davenport levee each year, not far from Davenport Municipal (soon to be renamed John 0’ Donnell) Stadium. The only thing that was unusual was that it was not raining. For some reason whenever the show came to town it would be accompanied by drenching rains each day. Most people came to the shows wearing
rubber boots.

I think it was about 4 p.m. and the rides and shows were only beginning to show life. They would come into their glory at dark when the whole arena would be lit up by the colored lights attached to every part of the rides and midway. As Ferris wheels, tilt-a-whirls, and roller coasters carried their screaming occupants high above, over and under, and around impossible corners, the lights would reflect from all surrounding windows, from the river, and the Centennial Bridge nearby, making the whole arena resemble an ocean filled with tumbling lighted octopi.

But for now we were hungry, so we slogged through the straw and mud, and began walking what Royal American termed “The Greatest Midway on Earth.” We found a hot dog stand nearby and carried our hard-earned dinner, eating as we explored.

It seemed that we walked blocks surrounded by tents containing “games” to lure the dollars out of everyone’s pockets. In front of each one would be a pitchman or huckster, who would shout at the boys walking by, challenging them to “try their luck” to see if he could win the game or beat the odds and take home some precious prize for their partner. I watched each of the games and soon realized that most were obviously rigged. You could throw a softball at 3 bowling pins to try to knock them over, but the ball bounced off easily. The pins were not wooden; they were made of cement. Or you could try a pop gun that might shoot mechanical ducks that paraded by at the back of the tent, but the guns seemed to have bent barrels.

One of the games caught my eye, however. The booth was green and covered with question marks, as was the jacket the man wore. At the top of the booth, the sign said “Fool the Guesser!” The man looked down from his little stage and pointed his cane at me and shouted

“Step right up and fool the Guesser. 1 can guess anything about you! I can guess your name, your age, even the kind of car you drive.” I stepped into a small knot of young men listening to him. “I know everything about you! NO one fools the Guesser!” If you can fool me, you can have any of these prizes behind me, he shouted. A smile crept across my face and 1looked at Audrey and grinned. She rolled her eyes. I knew there was one thing that he would never guess. My car was a 1955 Desoto.

I was hooked and couldn’t resist. 1stepped forward and held out my dollar and said “I’ll bet you can’t guess the make of my car”. The Guesser looked at me closely and he tapped his cane on the shelf in f ront of him. He took the dollar from my hand. He put his index finger on each temple and closed his eyes. Then he looked at me and shouted “It’s a FORD”! I laughed and said “No, it’s a Desoto.” He chuckled and said, “You’ve got to be kidding me!” So I showed him my car keys with the Desoto emblem. He relented, “Well, I guess you’ve got me. You can choose any of these prizes behind me.”

I puffed up my chest and looked through the teddy bears and bobble heads and said that I would like the pair of fuzzy dice hanging behind you  They would look great hanging from the mirror in my car. He reached over and handed the prize to me and I stepped back.

Then he began to call out to other folks nearby, trying to lure other folks with his game. “Step right up and fool the Guesser. I can guess anything about you !” he began.

I looked down at the new dice in my hands. They were not fuzzy or anything. They were a pair of thin blow-molded cubes held together with a rubber band. I shouted up at the Guesser “Hey, wait a minute. These dice are just a piece of junk! They couldn’t be worth a quarter ! Give me my money back!”

He stopped his spiel and looked back at me for a second. Then he grinned, shook his head, and leaned toward me. He said “Let this be a lesson to you, son. Never try to fool the Guesser.”

As I walked sullenly away, he looked out at some new fellows joining the group. Pointing his cane, he began again, “Step right up and fool the Guesser. I can guess anything about you! I can guess your name, your age, even the kind of car you drive.”