August 19, 2006

• - – - – - But Not Forgotten – - – - -

  Can’t do this with Douggerel,  but its on my heart tonight.

  
  

  We attended a birthday party for one of our great-grandsons at Lakeside Amusement Park.   A park that existed before I was born and one that was a source of blissful amusement for me for many years as I grew up and even after, as we took our kids there and their kids too.  I worked on the bumper cars one summer after I got off work. 

  
  

  The pavilion  today was by kiddieland and one ride was closest,  one that gave me happiness to ride as a child,  a somewhat airplane type thing,  rotating,  the cars each have a big rudder in front that can be positioned at will by the rider.  That  is still running.

  
  

  Later in the party I asked one of the younger adults how they liked the Fun House.   “Fun House ?”  they said.  “Fun House,” I said.  “They don’t have one here,”  I was told.

  
  

  Shifting over to a group a bit older I asked them about the Fun House and was told that it had been torn down.

  
  

  To a kids eyes it was a big building,  had a laughing grandma out front about the second story,  her laugh helped set the mood.

  
  

  On entry one had to walk between two stacks of jiggling barrels on shifting floor boards.    Woe betide a woman or girl who wore skirts who entered,  as the floor had jets in many places and up on the second level was a man who could see the whole place,  manning air valves.  Many a girl would scoot redfaced to the side while she put her skirts back down. 

  
  

  On that floor where one came in was the Lemon Squeezer,  a round cage like thing where the door was closed and barred and it would rotate at increasing speeds,  we boys would strive to come from the wall and reach the center pole,  feeling magic when we succeeded.

  
  

  Then there was that magic thing we called the Roulette Wheel,  a very ingenious thing,  mostly sunken below floor level,  round in shape,  dished on the edges with a rotating platform in the middle.  It too had variable speed regulated by an operator.  ‘Twas another fight against centrifugal force,  if one could get in the center of it or had a partner to hold hands with across the center it was possible to stay the whole ride.   Don’t know how many clothes of mine were practically worn out on that ride.

  
  

  Upstairs was the Ocean Waves,  one walked it with a foot on one board and a foot on the other.  The boards would rise and fall and moving in a somewhat elliptical fashion,   took a bit of coordination to do that one.

  
  

  Next to that one,  was a pivoted platform that was hard to reach,  didn’t much care for that,  ’twas too easy.

  
  

  At the far end of the second floor were the slides,   wooden,  going down to the first floor,  one hair raising slide that dropped almost vertical, with just enough curve to prevent broken bones, the other two were easier.   Girls soon learned to have long skirts and keep them under themselves,  as the screech of dragging flesh was heartrending.   I had heard from an acquantaince of the opposite sex that it was hard to heal burns and blisters from that slide. 

  
  

  Ah,  but then the greatest thing in the place to my way of thinking was the Big Barrel.   Cylindrical in shape about twelve foot in diameter,  in three sections,  each section rotating in a different direction than the one next to it.  I spent lots of time falling and rolling around until I mastered the art of staying upright and making my way through it without falling.  Finally got to where I could walk it backwards and sideways.  Wonder if I could still do that ?  I guess the majority of the time I spent there was in the barrel,  with the Roulette Wheel and Lemon Squeezer running behind a bit.

  
  

  The Fun House was a way of life for me,  cash was hard to come by in the depression,  and carfare and the entry fee a bit much for my pocket book.   So when I went there,  sightseeing was  a great part of my amusement.  Vicariously I would do things like Ski-Ball and other amusements that took skill and coordination.  I would usually have a few coins for rides, the Cyclone roller coaster,  the bumper cars and one ride on the Loop-o-plane,  money for the Fun House  hoarded in my pocket ’til the last thing. 

  
  

  Then after an afternoon of fun,  wearily I would plod out to the street,  across it to the cafe there where I could by a soda for a dime instead of what they charged in the park.

  
  

  If I had done things right carfare home would be in my pocket and if not,  then about a five mile pleasant walk home,   where I would live myself back into the amusement park doing the things I had done that day,  while my feet plodded home.

  
  

  I guess it was a blessing that we kids,  during the depression managed to exercise in every thing we did.  Exert ourselves to the max at times,  frequently.

  
  

  Sure I read,  I loved books (still do) but they were for while I was resting from play.  Of course winter time at home with a good book was better than icy fingers from snowball fights,  which I would thaw out carefully while turning pages.

  
  

  But,  dog gone it,  they tore my Fun House down and I never got a chance to say goodbye.

  • 11:40 pm
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