Carnival Ride

Recently, my friend, Shon Cass, had the honor of being parade marshall for the Garland Labor Day Parade — a tradition that stretches back as far as I can remember. He got to drive his golf cart and lead the parade.

I tried to coax some of our mutual pals into pelting him with water balloons from atop a building along the parade route but alas, the feebleness of old age and the current cultural paranoia about violence superseded what could have been a really great time.

If you’re unfamiliar with Garland’s Labor Day Parade, it has a lengthy history, and in the old days — by which I mean the previous century — it had a significant budget. The parade was sponsored by the Garland Jaycees back then and ended at Central Park where the Jaycee Jubilee was in full swing throughout Labor Day weekend.

That Jubilee featured some of the best traveling carnival rides in Texas and always culminated in naming the winner of the Miss Garland beauty pageant. Everybody who was anybody attended the Jubilee. At the beginning of my junior year in high school, I took a date to that Jubilee and we rode the Ferris Wheel. How was I supposed to know she had issues with heights?

In those days Ferris Wheels turned such that riders traveled backwards from the base, up the back side of the wheel to the top so that they crested the arc of the wheel facing forward, encountering a spectacular view. My date had been ok coming up the back side but when we reached the top and suddenly experienced that elevated view of the park, she showered the couple in the seat just ahead of (and slightly below) us with semi-digested chilidog and cotton candy. So much for my plans of making out later.

Misguided Cliches
People often compare life to a rollercoaster because of the ups and downs but I prefer to think of it as a Ferris Wheel because it’s so cyclical. Most of our endeavors in life — like raising a family, starting a business, dealing with one challenge or another — are like coming up the back side of that wheel. All we can focus on is the mass of mechanical details needed to keep things moving.

Ahh, but the real Dopamine rush comes in that last little bit before reaching the crest and receiving the rewards for our efforts. That first trip over the top is exhilarating, but it only lasts for a short time as we descend back into the mundanity of life’s struggles. Somehow, even the very next trip over the peak is not quite as exciting as the first. Solution? Bigger Ferris Wheels. And so, we proceed to bigger and better challenges (translated, Dopamine rushes) every one of which begins diminishing the minute we experience it.

Sometimes, we’re so focused on our goals that we drag our friends and family along, not stopping to think about their fears and needs until we have to get off the ride and deal with that angry bystander covered in chili dog and cotton candy stew.

At my stage of life, the biggest deterrent is the “Been there, done that” syndrome. I’ve ridden a lot of Ferris Wheels and so far at least, I’ve mostly managed to be in the higher car when the dinner started spewing. But I don’t get the rush I used to get. Maybe it’s time to start looking for meaning apart from accomplishments. Maybe it’s even time to consider whether those around me might prefer a different ride — or dinner.

A meeting of great minds who think alike