“Hey, Clownie, over here,” an excited youth yelled out.
“Hey, who you calling Clownie?” I asked.
“You, Clownie!”
And there were smiles all around.
------
“Happy 4th,” I yelled out.
An elderly gentleman reached his hand out. “A happy after 84 years, as well,” he said as
he excited shook hands with me.
------
Every 4th of July,
I apply the face paints, don the clothing and derby that transforms me from normal
human Wayne to the clown G-Clef. For a
few hours, I have the privilege of bringing smiles to children, both young and
old, that line the streets for the annual Independence Day Parade in Ridgewood,
NJ. Walking up to a young child and
watching their grin appear from the excitement of a clown walking over to them
for a few seconds, to high five, or take a picture, brings a wonderful feeling
to the child and to me. Sometimes, you
see a teenager, or a young adult, begin to grin, and then look sheepish, as if
they have outgrown the “clown thing.”
But, when you go up to them and “call them out,” their hand jumps to the
high-five ready position and the big smile appears.
------
“Can you take a picture with her?” someone asks with a
smirk.
“I would be happy to,” and as I looked over I recognize
the pasty looking facial tones, the beads of sweat starting to collect above
the brow and ask, “How about I stand behind you like I am photo-bombing.”
“That’s OK, as long as I cannot see you.” A very honest answer.
------
“High Five?” I asked.
“I am usually afraid of clowns, but you look OK,” the
lady responded as she prepared to high five.
------
I do not recall if I was ever
afraid of clowns. I had more problems
with costumed characters, and only one I can remember vividly. We were in, I think, Atlantic City, walking on
the boardwalk. Chances are this was the
latter half of the 60’s, in a time where “AC” still had some life before the decline
into the 70’s. We were walking on the
boardwalk and there he was…Mister Peanuts.
Like some cartoon character, my hair stood straight up. My brother Jeff seized the opportunity and
went up to Mr. P. to say hello, while I cowered behind my parents (Brian was
asleep in the stroller). “Jeff can go up
to Mister Peanuts, why can’t you?” my mom asked. My dad?
He was too busy laughing to try to get me over there. When I walk up to a kid and they start to cry…I
understand; I am their Mister Peanuts.
Is being a clown easy? It takes time to prepare and then to participate. I could walk and wave, like a live
float. I add the extra effort of being
interactive with the crowd, which takes attention and focus. I work hard not to miss children on the side
of the road I am walking. Wherever the
Miles of Smiles clowns start at the beginning of the parade, by the end of the
parade, I am one of the last people to finish.
In fact, this was the first year I past the grandstand where the “fans”
have not already left (starting in an earlier slot helped). While the first year, I have to confess, I
did this as a bit of a goof, I have come to look forward this parade. There is no better feeling than to bring a
smile to someone’s face.
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