Gypsy Blood

When I was child, my mother would recite a little ditty that supposedly predicted the nature of a child based on the day he or she was born. Reportedly written in 1887 by an unknown author, it goes as follows:

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child must work for a living,
But the child that's born on the Sabbath day,
Is fair and wise and good and gay.

It seems to have rang true for my family...I was born on a Thursday and I will road-trip at the drop of a hat. This, plus my Hungarian heritage and penchant for big, dangly earrings and jewelry, has given Teddy enough fodder to affectionately refer to me as a gypsy. While some may find the term derogatory, I don't. I love it. 

When I was about 13, I informed my mother I would like to run away and join the circus. (Personally, I thought this was a step up from my childhood dream of being a cowgirl...I'll never forgive my Kindergarten teacher for telling me cowgirls don't exist anymore. I'm a Jacksonian for a living, Mrs. S. What now?!?!?) She went, "What?!? Are you taking after your grandfather?" (This may be the way I started to get interested in history, in retrospect.) To which I automatically heard calliope music and demanded more information. Apparently, my father's father (who's family was from Hungary) ran away from home and joined the circus. Alas, his role was not particularly glamorous, he worked as a truck driver primarily, however, it was amazing to me. He then joined the navy, served in WWII, and became a truck driver for a less exciting company. My father, also joined the navy and served in Vietnam. The closest I've come to military life, is reenacting (aka, not very close at all!) but the urge to travel continues through me.

I remember the first time the circus appealed to me. Sesame Street used to run a "real-life" sort of clip about a little girl whose father was a clown. It depicted, in about five minutes, her daily life and it may very well have been the first time I was jealous. They lived in a tour bus and were schooled on the road. They never stayed anywhere for more than two weeks and after school, they went to circus school. Strangely, it wasn't so much the circus that appealed to me, it was the nomadic life style.

In fourth grade, this circus came to town and I was wowed. I went with my dad and he bought me a blue snow cone and a coloring book autographed by the clown. I was wearing my very first Civil War T-shirt...it was blue, said Chickamauga across the front and I wore it, literally, out. I later wore that shirt for "Word Day" the following spring. Kicked the other 10-year old's butts with my word-shirt. Fond memories.

Anyway, the older I got, the more I wanted to live this vagabond life. In middle school, gypsies traveling by caravan had a certain appeal, but the Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame came out and gypsies became too popular for me to be interested in. (I think it was third child syndrome...I hated liking things other people did. I wanted my interests to be unique. Or maybe I was just a weird kid. Both are very possible.) So, my new attraction became hobos.

Yes, while most children imagined the glitz and glamor or the Roaring '20s, the flappers, and the gangsters...I was beguiled by the stock market crash and the chance to hop trains. I learned the language of the hobos...yes, they had their own language, and had an appeal that I have pursued to play the harmonica. To this day, one of my favorite songs is "Me and Bobby McGee" I have always preferred Roger Miller's version to Joplin's or Kristofferson's.

A few years ago, before Teddy and I were dating, I confessed my allure of being a hobo to him. Bless him, he still asked me out. Last summer, we went to the County Fair...another life I'd be happy to have, thanks to this version of Charlotte's Web and once the sun went down and the lights came on, that old feeling came flooding back. We were sitting in the bleachers of a very cheesy magic show and I was watching the ferris wheel go round and round, glittering in sky. I am terrified of heights, but there is something about a ferris wheel that has always charmed me. I've ridden several and only regretted it once. I asked Teddy if he really had no desire to be a carnie. He did not. 

Like my mother, I suppose, Teddy wants to have a home and stable work. I won't deny how crazy it sounds. Last November, Teddy and I went down to Virginia and toured the majority of the Overland Campaign. I literally did not sleep in the same place twice for six out of seven days. It. Was. Awesome. We essentially lived out of our suitcases and spent the week on the road. I was happy to continue for several more weeks, maybe even months. 

When I was graduating high school, I promised myself that upon my college graduation, before I settled down anywhere in any way, I would drive cross country on Route 66. Disney-Pixar's Cars did not help the dream die on its own. Although my dream has yet to come to fruition, I haven't given up on it. I realize this isn't my typical blog post, but yesterday, Teddy and I went to my church carnival and once again, the ferris wheel turning endlessly against the summer sunset sings to me. That and my current obsession with Lynyrd Skynrd's Free Bird. Seriously, love, love, LOVE it.

I used to joke that I was afraid to conquer my fear of driving highways because someday, someone would call me and ask where I was and I'd say, "I just hit Georgia about two hours ago!" No destination in mind, but some gas money on hand and a mix CD on full volume. It dawned on me the other day...I drove to Baltimore...in my own, fairly new car...registered in my name...and I have savings...and....and...oh my God...what if I just threw my responsibilities out the door and did something I have always wanted to do?

...oh, personal conflict! Well, I remain undecided, but if you don't hear from me it's safe to presume I'm...oh, somewhere! On the other hand, if you would like to sell me a book deal to pay me to drive across Route 66 or join a carnival or some sort of thing and then write a tell all, email me here, asap. K, thanks!