The Midway Still Turns

Oaks Park — March 19, 2016 | Written in 2026

Oaks Park opened on May 30, 1905.

More than a century later, on March 19, 2016, I stood inside its hand-carved carousel — brass poles rising in even intervals, incandescent bulbs tracing the ribs of the ceiling, painted panels circling above.

I was 32.

The carousel had already been operating for over one hundred years.

It was free to ride.

There was no barrier, no timed ticketing. Just a functioning artifact turning because someone chose to keep it turning.

I do not remember which horse I chose. I do not remember the music. I remember thinking: this is cool.

The sign above the entrance still reads “Carrousel,” preserving an older spelling like a small architectural fingerprint. The wood floor shows wear honestly. Painted panels — dancers, landscapes, cherubs — retain visible brushwork. Electric light, once a novelty in 1905, now glows in steady repetition.

In 2016, the world still felt mostly linear.

Before Covid.
Before artificial intelligence entered daily language.
Before acceleration became constant.

In 2026, the photographs feel steady.

The carousel rotates in measured circles — up and down, but always returning. It has outlasted wars, recessions, pandemics, technological revolutions, and the reinvention of the city around it.

Some institutions endure not through reinvention, but through continuation.

The midway still turns.