What do you think of clowns? I was working on two thoughtful, interesting blog posts this morning when, while watching the news, I discovered that my city is hosting a clown festival this weekend! Who doesn’t love clowns, am I right? A clown festival is certainly an activity that doesn’t seem necessary for any reason. I feel like it’s an event just inviting a serial killer to our city. Ok, come on you clown lovers, show me some hate in the comments if you’d like to present a different perspective.
When the topic of clowns came up, I remembered that years ago, at least a decade, I wrote a post about clowns. I went back and read it and liked it, so I’m going to give it to you today. I also discovered that I had written a couple other blogs espousing the joy of clowns, so it’s going to be a full-on clown weekend! I love a good theme.
The Clown Whisperer (first published Aug. 7, 2007)
(This is a true story from several years ago)
Yesterday started out normally enough and then I saw the first clown. Yes, I said the first clown. There is no circus in town. There was no parade yesterday. But there he was, in front of the guitar store waiting for a ride. He sat on the bench and carefully arranged his clown suitcase and his other clown accoutrements in front of him as he waited. I became self-conscious that he might notice me staring even though I was watching him in my rear view mirror. He appeared to look in my direction, right at my rear view mirror and into my soul. A chill crept across my heart. I looked down for a moment, fearful that he was returning my gaze and I’d suddenly be mesmerized by his piercing stare. Then when I looked up again he was gone. It was so sudden that I wasn’t certain he’d ever been there. There was no car pulling away. No trail of endless brightly colored handkerchiefs. Just nothing. He was…gone.
