The roustabouts have packed up the tent and the performers are shuffling onto the train out of town, looking a little dazed, wondering how the crowds that adored them could have just melted away. The land where the big-top stood is parched and dusty. The back fence is littered with trash. No one seems to care about picking it up. The townsfolk have gone back home. They are watching their televisions. It’s too hot outside to do anything else.
The New Deal is headed out of town. It was a good show while it lasted. Some say it had gotten lazy and soft, and not as many people came as used to, but still it’s hard to believe it’s leaving. No one knows what the town will be like without it. One thing is certain: there won’t be another place where average folks can gather to make their lives a little brighter. They’ll have to make do on their own now.
The New Deal is headed out of town. It was a good show while it lasted. Some say it had gotten lazy and soft, and not as many people came as used to, but still it’s hard to believe it’s leaving. No one knows what the town will be like without it. One thing is certain: there won’t be another place where average folks can gather to make their lives a little brighter. They’ll have to make do on their own now.
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