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How the Big Apple Circus Ringmaster Spends Her Sundays

(Sunday Routine)

How the Big Apple Circus Ringmaster Spends Her Sundays

NEW YORK — Storm Marrero is the first Afro-Latina singing ringmaster for the Big Apple Circus, which is running through Feb. 2 next to Lincoln Center. . Marrero was born in Brooklyn, moved to Puerto Rico in her early teens, and then returned to New York in 2005, where she focused on her singing career, performing at venues like the burlesque supper club Duane Park. For the past five years Marrero, 43, has lived in a one-bedroom apartment in the Bronx. In May, her mother moved in with her.

HOME PREP I wake up at 8. I take care of my mother, who has dementia. She’s been up since 6 and makes Bustelo, which is strong Cuban coffee. Then I have a health shake. I prepare everything for my mom. I’ve cooked the day before, and everything is in bowls for her to heat up. It very hard caring for a parent who isn’t well. I’m waiting for Medicare to kick in so that we can get a visiting attendant.

SHOW PREP I’m in an Uber by 10:30. It’s a gift I give myself. If not, it’s double the time to get to work, and I love the extra hour of sleep. I’m at Lincoln Center by 11, and go straight to wardrobe where I do my own makeup. Years of doing burlesque taught me makeup techniques like contouring and highlighting. It’s also where I found my sense of worth as an entertainer because they accept you with open arms about being different and unique. Then I get into my costume.

IT’S SHOWTIME This is the wackiest, most wonderful job I’ve ever had. It’s a fun group of people to work with. When the curtain opens at noon, it’s electrifying. The five-minute mark before I go onstage is when my when my brain is on fire. I mentally go through the list of acts and what I’m supposed to do. Then I hear the kids’ laughter, which is like magic. I’m still shocked by Jason, who does the Wheel of Death. It’s exhilarating. He’s jumping rope in the air on this massive rotating wheel and somehow he sustains himself in the air.

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SECOND ACT During the 20-minute intermission, I drink water, rest my voice, retouch my makeup, close my eyes and then it’s time for the second act, where I sing my third song, “La Vida Es un Carnaval,” by Celia Cruz. I love watching the Latinos in the audience stand up and dance. My other favorite moment is the Aliev Troupe, which happens after the cats perform. It’s humans catching each other in the air with their hands. There’s no bar or trapeze. It’s heart-racing, regal and jaw-dropping. The audience does a collective wooooo.

MEET AND GREET We close the show with introductions. Then I’m escorted to the concession area for photos with the audience. The outgoing kids come directly to me. The shy or scared ones hide behind their parents. Then there are the adults who come on their own. That’s sweet because they still believe in the innocence.

COZY SPOT By 2:30 I’m starving. I change back into my clothing and get lunch at this deli a block away on Broadway. I get a mixed salad, aloe juice and chips. Then I hang out in wardrobe; the room is warm and quiet. I’m the youngest of eight, but I’ve always been a loner. I’m a local and everyone is from another state so they have a trailer where they eat or sleep. I answer texts and emails, and call my mother. Then I lay down on the floor with my coat under my head and close my eyes.

ONCE MORE At 3:15 the whole thing starts all over. I place water bottles strategically around the ring. I get into my costume and do my makeup. On Sunday we perform two shows; some days we do three. Most acts only come out once. I’m onstage for the full two hours so there’s no way to escape. You have to be present.

BACK TO THE BRONX By 6 the second show ends. If I’m really exhausted I’ll Uber home. If not, it’s a 90-minute commute. I take the D train, get out at Yankee Stadium, then catch the bus to my home.

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MOTHER/DAUGHTER TIME It’s usually 8:30 when I walk in. I mentally prepare myself to talk with my mother, because she’s easily agitated and paranoid. It’s very sad to see this strong woman who raised us by herself act like this. For dinner I’ll have a chicken or egg sandwich, chips and apple juice. Then we’ll watch “Criminal Minds” or “Law & Order,” which she loves. We fight about who is going to sleep in the bedroom. I want her to, because it’s more comfortable, but there’s no TV in there. If I win, I open up the couch and fall asleep by 11.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times .

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