It Is Till It Ain't

. '

     It was spring of 1924, when John and Josie got married. Theirs had been a long courtship. Living states away from one another, they had been corresponding for many years. She knew what getting married to him would mean. She would have to leave her mother and her hometown of Dassel, Minnesota and move all the way to Iowa. She dreamed about what it would be like and one day, finally, she was ready. She wrote her love a letter and a few months later John arrived and they became newlyweds. Their plan was to take the train to start their new life together in Iowa.  The railroad would be able to take them as far as Waterloo where they’d visit with friends and see some sites for a week before catching another train to their final destination, their new home in Wayne County.

They’d been there, staying with friends for only a few days when there was a knock at the door. They opened it to a raggedy boy who told them there was a new group of gypsies in town. “It is till it ain’t,” said the boy grinning, then he darted away to tell the next household.  Wondering what he meant by that, John smiled and looked at Josie, “What do you say Mrs. Roberts? Shall we go see what’s going on?”  
   
     Blushing, Josie playfully replied, “Why Mr. Roberts, I’d love to,” and the two of them grabbed their sweaters to set out and discover a scene that became louder and louder the closer they got.  Children were dashing about; men and women alike were all heading toward the town square.  It was almost like a stampede as everyone was frantic with excitement!  Word about the incoming group was spreading like wildfire! Nobody had ever seen anything like it!

     The townsfolk hadn’t heard the group arrive in the dead of night as they’d been cozy dreaming in their beds.  They hadn’t heard strange and unusual animals sounding off as make-shift fire-pits crackled to provide light.  They hadn’t heard bolts of red and white striped fabric being unfolded by burly boys or the clank-clank-clank of steel stakes being pounded into the ground by might y men.  They hadn’t heard tents being erected until almost dawn or women scurrying to cook food for the well-traveled group.  They hadn’t heard a thing.

      As John and Josie approached the grounds, mimes pranced around them with wide grins on their white and black painted faces.  The mimes held signs with arrows pointing toward the way in.  The two of them stepped ahead and got in the line for tickets.  A man was sitting inside a rickety booth with a huge beehive of red hair, full beard and tattoo's running up and down both arms.  When it was their turn, John reached deep into his pocket and laid down some money so that they would have the chance to see what was inside the canvas castle.  As the man handed them paper tickets, his voice sounded as sweet as her sister Ella.

     Pulling each other through the draped entrance doors they could smell popcorn and cotton candy as they stepped into another world.  Music played by a monkey.  Elephants, giraffes and tigers that they’d only seen in picture books.  Jugglers tossing as many as five batons.  The Ringmaster, wearing a red-tailed velvet tuxedo, announced events through a megaphone, keeping them completely captivated. Stunt artists flipped frontwards and back, dancing dogs jumped through hoops of fire and colorful floppy-shoed clowns walked around the ring making them laugh like they’d never laughed before.  It was a most memorable afternoon.

They said goodbye to their friends the next morning and walked back toward the square where they would catch the train for their final destination.  They were surprised to see that the group had already packed and was starting to head out. Moving on to the next town. “It is till it ain’t, my love,” said John, touching his new bride’s face. “That’s what the boy told us.  In life and at the circus.”