Jesus Freak

(DC Talk, 1995)

Ok, a Jesus freak is not what immediately came to mind tonight as Ron and I drove by Old Shawnee Town in, of course, Shawnee (new and recently improved with an awesome pool). The carnival was in full swing, with ferris wheels, merry-go-rounds and enough cotton candy to give the whole town a ca-razy sugar high. I told Ron we should go because it would give me something good to write about. He kept on driving. "Ha!" I thought to myself. "I have enough carnival memories to write a whole novel. So there." Actually, they're not carnival memories, but Missouri State Fair memories. Growing up, we lived only thirty minutes from Sedalia, the home of the MO State Fair. We made the trip there frequently to shop and go to the orthodontist. I remember seeing a sign in this one yard that said "Rooms for Fair People." I totally thought it was a racist sign. Not even kidding. Anyway, my dad was a state representative and each year they had one day designated as "State Representative Day" or something of that nature. We got to go on all the rides free! And go to all the sideshows, too. That's where the "freak" comes in. Most of them were really pathetic and I remember thinking what a sad life it must be to travel from state to state, sitting in a really hot, dark tent and having people come in and just stare and point and whisper behind their hands. Ugh. The one freak I really remember was a drug addict. He was a pale, skinny guy with thin hair and red-rimmed eyes. Scared me straight for sure. Until I realized that he probably HAD to be high all the time (this was, of course, years later, when I understood what being high meant). As I was weighing my career options in my senior year of college, I briefly contemplated being a drug addict freak in a traveling show. But I got married instead. I think it was a good choice.

One of the other great things about the state fair was getting to see Bobby Goldsboro and Bobby Vinton (not in the same year - that would have sent me over the moon into the stratosphere) in concert. And the best - THE CARPENTERS! I love the Carpenters almost as much as I love John Denver. I think I liked them because Karen's vocal range matched mine perfectly; we had kindred voices. I knew (know) all the words to "We've Only Just Begun," "Close to You," "Superstar," "Rainy Days and Mondays" - just about all of them. I swear I honestly thought my life could not get any better when I saw them. I use the term "saw" loosely, because even though it was State Rep Day we still had "you're really just like everybody else" seats.

So, as we drove past the blinking lights and hordes of people toting sticky-faced kids, strollers and funnel cakes I was overwhelmed with this thought: keep on driving, Ron, keep on driving. Nothing will top my adolescent state fair escapades. Besides, I hear they're looking for a drug addict freak and business has been kinda slow lately . . .