Wondering about the ponies

Every year a local restaurant has an MDA carnival over Labor Day weekend. I don’t know what goes on there – cotton candy, kiddie rides and maybe a few local singers. I’m always excited to see the ponies standing out in the grass when I drive by on my way to work.

They seem really happy. They munch cheerfully on the grass and don’t quite mind that they’re short and every day is the same and that it rains a lot and they get wet.

This year there is an emu out there with the ponies. I don’t much care for him like I do the ponies. The ponies hold some promise of simplicity and goodness for me. Yes, Dr. Mason,  pretentious Lit professor, the ponies symbolize the innocence of youth. 

So why weren’t the ponies enough? Why did they have to mess with this one last vestige of my youth, when the possibility of a pony ride and cotton candy made the day sparkle with excitement? Are children today really so different that a pony is no longer thrilling enough?  Today’s children demand a big, imposing and awkward bird?

Next year they’ll add one of those elephants that has to spend his life carrying sticky children in a sandy circle all day, while all the time he’s dreaming of a mudhole in Bhutan.

It’s so damn depressing.


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