I got the kids.

Dozens of kids. Maybe hundreds. All excited and running and laughing
and splashing. Kid heaven and it was all mine...

I'd been to the closing show of ArtBeat Friday night, when it was
announced that they could use a few extra volunteers the next day.
Super! I'm new to Somerville and want to get involved...

So I came early and got the assignment to assist with the dunk
tank. They told me some folks from the DPW were running it and that
the leading lights of Somerville would be gettin' wet for
charity. HIZZONER was even going to do a dunk! Cool.

Arriving in place, there were no DPW directors to report to. There
was, however, a parent who had already set his kid on the seat and
several youngsters eager to start tossing.

No time to lose!

I checked out the equipment, drafted a parent to organize the dunkees,
and got the throwers in line. We were off!

With me as cheerleader in front, a parent at the back, and Jered on
the wet seat, the balls came flying.

Little Anne, 6 years old was eager to toss. "That's Jered.  Do you
want to get Jered wet?" She laughed and tossed and Jered went splash!

Wild applause erupted! And Todd was ready to throw. Then Jane and Lucy
and a kid in a Red Sox cap. "You like Schilling?"

"No, I like Manny!"

"Man on Fire!" I yell and Jered comes splashing down again.

Jered scrambles back up as I incite the growing mob. "Lemme see a
windup. You call that a windup? Come on! Swing those arms!" A giant
windup and the pitch goes clear over the backstop. Everybody laughs.

Jered was a trooper, did a good 45 minutes. A few other preteens
joined him in the line-up. "Look! You get a dry one! You want to dunk
Nathan? Let 'er rip!"

All this time half my mind is focused on the somewhat suspect seat
latch.  Calmly, clearly (I think) I make sure the parents (I keep
drafting new ones as the old ones drift away) keep small fingers out
of the way, while the other half of me is dancing like a madman. "You
call that a pitch? You should play for the Yankees!"

Chants of "Dunk William!" resound across the fair as he gets his.

The line of dunkees is growing faster than the line of dunkers.
Nathan, Reed, Lucy, Tim, Ed, Roxanne (with brilliant red braids),
Josh, Jake, John, Judy...  Everyone is yelling and laughing. A pile of
kids huddle next to the tank to enjoy the residual splash. 

A girl recognizes me and waves wildly, telling her friends that I'm
that subsitute teacher they had who was so much fun. (I hope that's
what she's saying.)

I'm still paranoid about that latch and try to keep it under control
even as kids are crowding up to be next. After each splash I direct
them up away from it, while standing carefully in front of the
target. And then, right under my watch, it bites. Not badly, but
enough to hurt. I wonder who might get sued for what if...

But "if" doesn't happen. The next field commission is a fantastic
woman who knows exactly what to do. Things are under control now and
life is good.  The kids are having a ball! I'm yelling silly things
and everyone is going giggles.

"Say 'Hi Josh!'"  

"Say 'Bye Josh!'"

Splash!

A couple of grown-ups do a dunk each, but it's the kids who are
running the show. I'm introducing every dunker to every dunkee, but
I'm getting all the names wrong. Who cares? They're happy!

It's totally intense. I'm backing up big kids, bringing little ones
forward, holding the tiny ones so they too can dunk someone. I'm
yelling, joking, instructing them to make faces. The entire world is
compressed to a tank of water, three yellow balls, and a pile of happy
children.

At 4, the crowd dissipates. I drop the seat, disconnect the latch, and
put up a "Closed" sign. And stagger back to report.

I didn't really see much artwork, nor hear a lot of music, but I sure
had a heck of a fine time!

I *love* Somerville!