Essay 1 for Portfolio

Heather Howard
Hbhoward2@usieagles.org
English 101.002
Essay 2-Final
1061

Innocence Remembered

It’s not just the wind that blows through my hair as I am jerked frantically on the tilt-a-whirl. It’s not the smell of the fire pits as the aroma of the barbeque makes my mouth water even before it hits my awaiting tongue. It’s every sense a human being has all rushing at the same time. It’s a paradox really, when childhood meets adulthood like the butterfly emerging from the productive cocoon. The true sense of trust and independence foreshadowed by the confidence to do what I was taught right and the foreboding taste of what fun is as well. Bright soft hair, with the pink sticky from the cotton candy that covers my freckles on my face, and plaid shorts; this is me when I was sixteen years old. The urge of independence running through my veins and trying to contain the excitement of the child I still was as I went embarking on the festival without the safety net of my parents at my side for the first time.
My hair fresh with new highlights and the trendiest new style, I was ready in every sense of the word. With friends surrounding me in every direction, this was when partners were no longer competition and significant others did not make a difference. This was a time when a smile actually did mean happiness, not a plastered time of saying I’m sorry. The everlasting noise of laughter, a man shouts directing who can go on the ferris wheel. The sounds of everyone laughing, not just the sounds of adolescence, not the sounds of intoxicated adults but the group of laughter of everyone combined. My days at the Owensboro Barbeque Festival changed the banal of Kentucky living to mesmerizing lights and magic.
Nothing is left to the imagination with my sense of smell at the melting pot. Depending on the adventure I seek, the location will lead itself by olfactory nourishment one craves. The rushes of excitement as I see the long lost cousin, cooking barbeque with a mere hello. The sweet aromas gooey sugared funnel cake and the tart lemonade that surrounds the many booths as I walk past. I could smell lush perfume and heavy doses of cologne as people pass by me. At the time I did not understand the aphrodisiac of harsh perfume but now I know it’s covering insecurities. The smell of Italian, Chinese, and everything in between that lifts spirits and culture. I get lost in my thoughts by all the mixing of many flavors. Then as a car hitting a brick wall, I realize how close I am to the Ohio River by its horrendous stench of dead fish and stagnant water. Nothing can mask this, not even the tempting smell of barbeque chicken and burgoo. This putrid smell creeps into my sense of happiness with waves of nausea.
Money did not mean a status quo, investing was the name of the game. The only thing it meant to a wide-eyed sixteen year old, was a chance to scream my head off on one of the various rides in the carnival, or to buy the ever important meat on a stick, and to throw the hard earned babysitting cash on nothing in particular. Something everyone could talk about; the world wide festival that is known for its taste. I can still taste the barbeque as it rests on my pallet, and the savory sweet juice that comes and goes with every bite. The spicy meat and the sauce everyone is talking about. The cotton candy as it melts in my mouth, and sharing with friends, don’t we all need blue tongues? The way of the crunching with the sound of teeth clasping the candy and shredding to pieces as sugar runs through our blood streams. The taste of pure innocence, and knowing I can probably smile wearing a bathing suit. The smiles when everyone needed to enjoy every taste from the alligator jerky at one stand to the spicy taste of Italian in another.
The sights of new mothers proudly displaying their new bundles of joy hoping for a trophy are astounding. Smiling individuals and laughing surrounds the place. There are many sights of the encountering by old friends meeting again for the first time in years. The look of teens paying for their dates to ride on the ferris wheel, only for a glimpse of pure happiness and the feeling of being on top of the world. Newly engaged couples try to play their luck, and win the woman of their dreams a prize for under fifty dollars. I see my friends, before peer pressure and dismay playing before me, when we were real, not distinguished by clothes and stature. I play as well. I think back then to my mother, standing with my father, as rekindled love stares in my young soul. The way I want to be, the person I want to become, standing in every which way taking care of the ones they love. I could see a father teaching his son baseball in one tent, to a grandmother selling quilts spreading the love of warmth on a cold afternoon in another. A brother taking care of his younger sibling and two sisters smiling as a picture is taken. These are all small acts of love and compassion seen every day that go unnoticed. These acts should not be looked at lightly, for these acts speak much louder than words, even the words “I love you”, cover the picture played before me.
Flashbacks occur when one least expects it, reality takes a hold of the moment to another place in another time. I feel myself somewhat saddened by knowing my childhood is slipping away and the time to leave my security of my parents is nearing. At that moment when hearing the bands or the man yelling for tickets seems novel. The taste of innocence is all too sweet, the chicken all too spicy. I can still smell the Ohio River and the cotton candy drifting side by side, just like my friends and I. Happiness comes and goes, along with friendships and relationships. Yet moments like these, the moments when time does not have boundary, and innocence is felt on many levels, are the moments I thank God for.