wealth

I was lying on the grass, eyes closed, with the sounds swirling around me. The clear glass of children's voices. The relaxed assuredness of fathers' voices. Birds. A toy xylophone. Around me were the tents and games and people. Directly in front of me was the Eastern-European man selling everything you could possibly need to pull a prank on someone. He was wearing a paisley shirt and he looked so...satisfied, with his tent and the children all pawing through bins and his wife in an umbrella hat demonstrating the marionettes and his teenage son counting change.

There's something about Magnolia.

The next day I ended up in Magnolia again, and, wonder of wonders, there was a parade. And not a typical Seattle, exhibitionist, naked cyclist parade. One for children, with middle-aged men dressed as pirates and older men dressed as clowns. There are few things I love more than home-made costumes and face-paint on wrinkled skin. Oh, the things we will do for kids. The things kids will give us an excuse to do.

There's something about the smile on the face of an adult who has just created a smile on the face of a child.

Oh, the things that are not measured by the GNP.