Even in an era of megatheme parks and canned stay-at-home amusement, the carnival continues to draw healthy crowds. The secret of its drawing power may reflect both its essential Americanness and far older traditions. PNS correspondent Michael Blanding is a freelance journalist living in San Francisco.

The carnival as we know it is distinctly American. We invented cotton candy, the Ferris wheel took its first spin at the Chicago World's Fair in 1892, and only Americans could come up with games which involve shooting a water pistol at the face of a laughing clown.

But the origins of carnival go back to ancient fertility rites, some celebrating the rebirth of spring, others marking the depth of winter, like the Roman "Saturnalia," when slaves were considered equals, a commoner was elected temporary ruler by a lottery, and all sorts of excesses, sexual and otherwise, allowed.

The Catholic church started to crack the whip on this sort of activity in the Middle Ages, but wisely allowed a toned-down carnival to continue. This lasted from Epiphany, 12 days after Christmas, to Ash Wednesday, when the meatless fast of Lent begins. In fact, carnival comes from two Latin words meaning to take the meat away.

Remnants of this carnival -- with flamboyant costumes, parades and dances, folk dramas, and eating to burst -- continue in Italy, on the Riviera, in Rio de Janeiro and New Orleans, where it's known Mardi Gras ("Fat Tuesday").

But here in the United States, we're more familiar with the collection of "games of skill" and dizzying midway rides. In the late 1800s, innovations in transportation and technology helped transform the carnival into a traveling whirl of sideshows and sticky food. Even in this era of Somethingworlds and theme parks, hundreds of traveling carnivals continue to draw crowds at country fairs, on boardwalks, and in shopping mall parking lots.

Perhaps they survive because some of the ancient pagan mystery remains. In our imagination, and in novels and movies, the carnival is still the terrain of those who don't fit -- of runaways and vagabond European teenagers, down-and-outs and life-loving individualists. So we're inclined to believe that a character in one Steven King novel acquires supernatural powers from a spin on the wheel of chance, and it seems plausible that a carny might supply cover for a man from another planet, as in Robert Heinlein's "Stranger in a Strange Land."

And just beyond the bright lights, who knows what is going on? The brew of pleasure and mystery keeps the carnival alive, allowing generations of honest folk to cast aside their inhibitions and taboos -- for a time. Most likely carnivals will continue to survive long after Great America collapses into dust.