The World and All Its Pearls

There is a living parade—and then a circus—in my son’s head. There is an actor, a comedian, a humanitarian lurking behind an Emerson suit of what makes the boy the heartbeat of his father.

In Emerson’s parade, the floats are alive and alternate between making silly faces and sarcastic remarks. The bands march, run, wiggle, and glide to beats unique to each member. Their all-out epileptic gestures seem to indicate that synchronicity is for the unimaginative, the dull. The Emerson Street Tavern Princess, the pageant winner, wears blue jeans and a white tee shirt—is crowned in a worn baseball cap. She flashes the townsfolk and giggles like a little girl. She is loved and special and deserving and silly. And she has been handpicked by the parade’s namesake and daily Grand Marshal. Instead of sparklers, the children are handed roman candles that shoot candy—mostly Lemonheads and Smarties and Pez.

The music is a dizzying mix of Gap Band, North Mississippi All Stars, and Mother’s Finest. The Boy loves nostalgia and newness. Loves how what is old becomes new again. Loves that a cliché does not apply to someone who has not heard it before.

In short, the Boy loves. And is loved.

It is from this procession of love that he enters the mindset of the Big Top. From his front row seat he grins at the trick dogs doing their trick dog flips. There is a monkey on a bicycle listening to an iPod. There is a bear in a tuxedo taking drink orders from the silent clowns who’ve just arrived in a Honda Element. There is an elephant dealing cards to a pair of lion tamers, the strong man, and the bearded lady. This is Emerson’s circus and the elephant needs no thumbs—just a keen eye as the bearded lady likes to cheat the strong man. It is entertaining and alive and different. It is unlike your circus or mine.

Emerson does not have to tell you about his parade or circus. They are evident in his smile and in the gulf of his eyes. They are as real as anything you saw as a child or have seen as an adult.

But if he does tell you about them you should listen. And watch. His tales are fraught with the honesty and vision of a child, the clarity and detail of an old soul, the enthusiasm and excitement of one who understands that the world and all its pearls are his for a fortnight only.