Childhood | pictured words

June 22, 2025

Our Lady of Mount Carmel Annual Church Festival

OUR LADY OF MT. CARMEL ANNUAL CHURCH FESTIVAL

I’m scorching hot. My clothes cling to me in the smothering humidity. Add to that the people-laden, sticky black tar church parking lot without a shade tree in sight. Ugh.

Yet, the air is saturated with inviting aromas: potent garlic; sweet onion; roasted peppers; spicy Italian sausage; yeast bread rolls; sweet dough twists with cinnamon sugar; cotton candy … and cheese puffs. My cousin Tom and I make a beeline for the deep-fried sweet dough filled with ooey gooey cheese. Yummmmm!

We race toward the Ferris wheel, dodging through the crammed masses and attractions. My nostrils are suddenly assaulted with the fishy stench of smelt. Eew. This booth boasts a line of cuffed pants; brimmed hats; men’s black shoes; and long-sleeved shirts soaked with sweat, each revealing the standard white muscle T beneath. These older Italian men puff cigars (again, eew!) and pass the time in line playing the loud, fast-paced game of Morra.

“Quatro!” (four!)

“Sette!” (seven!)

“Otto di fuoco!” (eights on fire!)

Roars of laughter rise with the cigar smoke above the cacophony of festival sounds.

From a game booth, a hoarse female voice hails, “Roll down, roll down! Six tries for a dollar!”

Various carnival rides summon as well: Creeeek … screeeeeech … tic, tic … whoooosh!

A button accordion pumps out a Polka, accompanied by the “oom pah” of a tuba. We pause to watch smiling couples bob as they step, quick-step, step, hold their way around a make-shift dance floor.

We spot Nonna at the Bingo Tent with an array of cards spread before her, fervently trying to win an “Infant of Prague.” This uniquely Catholic carnival prize is a plaster figure of the jewel-crowned infant Jesus, clothed magnificently in a robe of rich red, royal blue, or gold. Game booths and tents flaunt eye-catching displays of the satiny fabrics, glistening jewels, and outstretched arms of the holy infant. I feel the contrast of Nonna’s satiny cheeks and stiffly sprayed hair as she pulls us close, and presses a quarter into each of our palms.

Continuing to the Ferris wheel, a small stand topped with a six-foot twirling glass of yellow lemonade beckons. Soon soothing icy lemon slush slides down the back of my throat.

I nurse my treat while in line for our ride. Cold sweat drips off the cup into my sandals, and squishes between my toes. A silvery car grinds its way to the bottom of the giant spoked wheel. We hop on, my bare legs sticking to the hot metal seat. Tom slams the safety bar shut, and we rock precariously forward and back.

The car jerks and jolts as we inch up a notch so the one below us can load, and so on –

one

car

time.

Stuck at the peak, we get a birds-eye view. The setting sun creates peach, mauve, and midnight blue hues. Glistening stringed lights of sapphire, emerald, ruby, and gold crisscross the grounds. Suddenly, my hair flies up and my stomach drops, then settles back in as it grows accustomed to the whirling sensation. For just a moment, I close my eyes and relish the breeze.

(c) Marie Elena Good, 2011

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April 18, 2021

DOUBLE EXPOSURE

Do you see yourself
in the face of your sibling?
Identical twins.

© Marie Elena Good, 2021

For today’s prompt from Robert Lee Brewer of Poetic Asides, we are asked to write an ekphrastic poem. I used this photo of my Aunt Peg (my Mom’s identical twin sister). It is a double exposure, showing my mom’s smiling face in the face of Aunt Peg. Identical twins do seem a sort of “double exposure” in the first place, don’t they? Love this photo.

September 6, 2020

I Remember John-John’s Third Birthday

My five-year-old eyes
watched a three year old salute
his daddy’s coffin.

Written in response to Walt Wojtanik’s “I remember …” prompt at Poetic Bloomings.

May 17, 2020

SIGNIFIC’ANT

Image courtesy of Prawny at Pixabay

At the top of the slide, she screams.
(As in chillingly nightmarish dreams.)
And it’s all justified:
There’s an ant on the slide,
So she’s coming apart at the seams.

December 8, 2019

McKelvey’s

Photo source unknown. Found at Bob on Books.

When I was a child, Christmas season included a trip downtown to window shop. Mom and Aunt Peg, my sister, our Grandma, and our cousins went together. My favorite was McKelvey’s Department Store, where our moms let us kids go to the fifth floor – the toy floor! Countless beautiful dolls, doll houses, trains, erector sets, life-sized stuffed animals, puzzles, paper dolls, coloring books and crayons galore, and a huge gumball machine. Imagine the magic! Not just a section, but an entire floor devoted to toys. And imagine the disappointment when Mom and Aunt Peg came through the elevator doors, and we knew it was time to leave.

No purchase needed
when you’re dreaming with cousins
and Santa’s in town.

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September 8, 2019

PIGLET, ESPECIALLY

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Photo credit: Eric Mavis

It was said that Rabbit is made
of important things.
Piglet said, “Rabbit has brain,”
and, “Yes, Rabbit is clever.”
And that may be.
Yes, that may be.
But our smidgen-y Piglet is made
of weighty things –
nearly all of him being empathy
and oh-such-friendness
and how-can-I-helpness.
As Eeyore said
on that blustery day,
“Mind you don’t get blown away,
little Piglet. You’d be missed.”
And when you are missed,
you are weighty, indeed.

Christopher Robin’s friends
show us how to be ourselves
among others.
Being ourselves among others is
an important thing.

A weighty thing.

A Piglet-and-Pooh-and-Rabbit-and-Roo,
and Kanga-and-Eeyore-and-Tigger-and-Owl,
and love-me-for-me-and-I’ll-love-you-for-you,
significant, super-salubrious thing.

And so, little girl with your Piglet in tow,
be yourself as you grow,
and let others be so.
And when you’ve outgrown
your sweet childhood ways,
please hold Piglet at heart
for the rest of your days.

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August 11, 2019

SUMMER FAIR

Photo by Gerardo Ponciano at Pixabay

“Let’s rhyme,” he says, and so I do
of summer fairs and barbeque,
with marching-band parades uptown,
and small-town smiles all around.
The carny folk that drew you in
with big stuffed prizes you could win,
but off you’d go with some cheap toy
you’d carry home, but not enjoy.
Yet nonetheless, you’ll reminisce,
and I will guarantee you this:
That you will wish you were still there:
that child at the summer fair.

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July 13, 2019

SATURDAY NIGHTS

Found photo at blog of James Wallace Harris

When I was just a little girl,
I’d whimper in my room.
I’d plug my ears, hold back the tears,
And fight the dread of doom.

With covers pulled up to my eyes,
I’d suffocate my scream.
What once-a-week would make me freak?
The Perry Mason theme!

I WAS SUCH A WIMP! Still am. 😉

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September 28, 2018

TREEHOUSE

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We could build a treehouse there
Where quiet breeze flows through the wood
And echoes of our childhood
Still faintly hover in the air.

I ponder it with broadening smile!
So, could we build a treehouse there?
I know we could, but do we dare?
I think it just might be worthwhile.

I hope that you can be convinced
For once my heart became aware
That we could build a treehouse there,
I’ve been obsessing ever since.

It wouldn’t be the same elsewhere
For that is where we laughed and played
And where our hearts took root and stayed.
I’m glad we built a treehouse there.

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July 25, 2016

MOTHER’S DAY

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Photo by Deanna Marie Metts

All I wanted was to give you a gift –
A pretty something you could wear
On your wrist,
Or around your neck.
Something having nothing to do
With construction paper,
scissors,
or crayons.
Something purchased with paper money
From a department store.
Something wrapped in ribbon.

Now all I want is to give you a gift –
Something having nothing to do
With purchases
With paper money.
I want to give you

Sunny smiles,
Smooth sailing,
Sweet solace.

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Tag: Childhood