Joining the Circus

Joining the Circus

As I take my turn at discovering this new country in my life, I am struck by how many things are new, and how many are exactly the same as “back home.” Shopping malls and stores all seem to be eerily similar…it isn’t unlike going to any large mall in a new city when you go into a mall in Abu Dhabi. The advertising entices you; the same mannequins beckon to you through the display windows. Some stores even ARE the same stores…American Eagle, Banana Republic, the Gap, or Carter’s. Some stores I had never been in or only took a quick glance around are now calling out to me to come and check out their goods. Other stores TRY to be like those in the states with names like. “Women’s Secret” and “The Unlimited.” But this isn’t a blog about shopping, of which I go to many malls but do not buy much. Malls right now are for e-mailing, Facebooking and surfing the net, as we have no internet at our home, right now. 

This blog is about joining the circus. Three days ago, I met Emma. She is helping her friend move into the apartment across my hallway. After two minutes of chatting with Emma, I liked her immensely. As I explained to her that I had left my family behind in the US and, in a way, ran away from home, she laughed and said, “Well, you can put a sign above your door…’Circus’…”

It took me a moment, and then I smiled and responded, “Of course, I have joined the circus!”

Remember when you were little, you thought about joining the circus? In my house, at least, there were several comments about me as I grew up that if I couldn’t find my niche in life, I could always join the circus. I think that as I graduated high school, got married, and had a child all in the same day, without benefit of pregnancy, my family did think that I had perhaps gone off to join the circus. As my husband and his son and I became a family and then I had another child, my life got busier and busier. I was a Boy Scout and Girl Scout leader, teacher’s aide, then substitute teacher, and had owned a happily thriving convenience store business with my former husband, but I still hadn’t found my niche in life. By the time my second son came into the picture, I had a family of three children ranging in ages from newborn to 19 years old. It was a busy household. I was happy in many ways, and fulfilled in others, but still missing that essential core of who I was. I found choruses to join, then directed choruses for many years. I was hired by my church, as well as other churches to lead their choirs. I played in handbell ensembles, and played in huge thousand-member bell choir concerts in Boston, Hartford, and Bristol, Rhode Island. I felt fulfilled. Or was I?

It wasn’t until I went to a Girl Scout celebration and heard Grace Corrigan speak about her daughter, Christa McAuliffe that I knew what I needed to do next. As Grace spoke about Christa’s commitment to young people, to teaching and to becoming a pioneer, I felt drawn to continue to search for that same fulfillment for myself. A short time later, for the first time in my life, I enrolled in full-time classes at Keene State College, in Keene, NH. I was 37 years young.

However, this isn’t a blog about my career as a teacher, or finding my way as an “adult learner” at Keene State College. This is a blog about joining the circus.

The day I filled out my applications for a teaching job in Abu Dhabi, I knew I was stepping off what I had heretofore known as my normal, somewhat crazy, always eclectic life as mom, sister, daughter, grammy, aunt, niece and friend. I knew when I told people of my plans, that they weren’t sure if I was kidding, or not. The most confounded looks I received were from those who had been in the service and perhaps had fought in Kuwait or Afghanistan and knew what a brutal summer in the Middle East felt like.  Some people immediately responded with positive remarks,

“Wow! What an experience you will have.” And others merely shrugged and said,

“Well, I hope you like it.”

Some folks straight out told me I was crazy and came pretty close to telling me to have my head examined, (thanks, Benny and Rocky).

But as time went by and my commitment to this journey came close, most folks resigned themselves to the fact that I was really going so far away. Some of my friends (Deb, Paula, Mary) who had said goodbyes to me, before, sang songs to me,

So far away, doesn’t anybody stay in one place, anymore?

And I responded,

All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go, …taxi’s waiting he’s blowing his horn, already I’m so lonesome, I could die…”

As you can see,  and to paraphrase Carole King,

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue. An everlasting vision of an ever changing view. An endless world of tapestry in bits of blue and gold; a tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold.

But this isn’t a blog about how music has informed my life, made me who I am today, sustained me during the down moments and lifted me up during the inspiring moments. This is a blog about joining the circus.

When something changes your life in untold little ways, as well as big ones, when an idea comes along that seems bigger than life, bigger than fantasy, and bigger than one person can embrace: That feeling of utter awe, utter impossibility, utter phantasmagorical manifestation of light, sound and life. That is what joining the circus feels like. As I dance around my mostly empty apartment, singing my beloved folk songs, I am drawn to those with themes that lift my spirits, those that take me home for a moment in my mind, but also remind me why I am here and what I am doing.  And so I leave you with one of  Joni Mitchell’s songs, one made famous by one of my favorite musicians and good friends, Tom Rush,

We’re captive on the carousel of time. We can’t begin we can only look behind from where we came and go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round in the circle game

                                                            ~Joni Mitchell

That’s all for today. I’m going back to Banana Republic to swing with the monkeys.

(For those of you paying careful attention, I realize that this final line does not complete the circus metaphor...but, give me a break...I'm not in Kansas, anymore)