He was a tall and lanky man with a great imagination. He loved life, booze, women, and the circus. He was born into the big top by a mother who walked the tightrope and a father who led the band. His youth was one every boy in America envied, running wild around the performers and giving the elephants peanuts. He learned to cheat at cards and use his boyish charm to sell tickets. Time passed, and his parents left each other and the circus behind. But it was in his blood, and he knew someday he'd be a part of it again. After many meaningless jobs, he saw an ad in the want ads that someone was selling a 1940 circus wagon converted into something we call a food truck today. It needed a lot of attention, but he was good with his hands, and a short time later, his hard work paid off, and he unveiled the Little Red Wagon. He offered cotton candy and candy apples, popcorn, hamburgers, hot dogs, and, if I recall, the best French fries anywhere.

He began following county fairs, amusement parks, and any event he could find along his journey. I was fifteen when he let me go with him during summer break. He taught me how to do everything, including driving the wagon when he was hung over, which was quite often. That summer, I felt the cry of the circus life and vowed to be a part of it someday. Little did I expect my uncle would pass on to the big top in the sky soon after my eighteenth birthday, willing me the little red wagon.

I began that chapter in my book of life traveling with the county fairs and other venues, bringing cotton candy smiles, burgers, popcorn, and the best French fries in America.

I've been told I look like him, tall and lanky with a taste for women and booze. It's in my blood, and that's okay with me, maybe because it was okay with him, but more importantly, we were part of the greatest show on earth, living the dream of circus life and doing it together.

Mike 2024