Happy Clown Juggles His BallsSubmitted by RoadSong at 2014-02-09 09:39:41 EST
Rating: 1.83 on 6 ratings (9 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Before dawn the fire was warm and the coffee had been made by some early riser. There were many places to sit but I was the only one there seeking the coffee and cheer of the campfire.
Gazing into fire and letting my mind wander has always given me visions. There across the fire was the clown. He had arrived silently and was seated with his blue bag of Bugler and was trying to roll himself a smoke with hands that shook from the cold of the desert dark.
Without preamble he said "Some people do not like me".
I inquired "Why is that?"
"They say I do not work" he replied.
I was astonished to hear this because I had seen him getting up early and putting on his clownie hat and strapping his bells around his wrists and ankles the previous morning. You could hear him coming long before you could see him, he had big bells.
He worked hard all day trying to make people smile, and yet he got little thanks. Being a juggling jester is almost a lost art and is a big job. Who would make people happy if he stopped this important work? Does the world need another clerk at the mini-mart more than it needs cheerful good humor and clowns that juggle their balls?
The clown was headed for a gig at the pizza place where he worked for tips and all the pizza he could eat. I told him I would like to take some more photos of him after he returned from his gig and there was better light.
Later that day as I took the photos of him, he told me with a sly smile and hope in his voice that he sometimes was paid for allowing his photo to be taken. I laughed and told him that I was sometimes paid to take photos! I asked permission to take close ups of his body art. He refused. It was the first time anyone has said no to this odd request of mine. I imagine he had good reasons.
He did spend a lot of time letting me get good images, turning this way and that, smiling and doing a bit of a jester jig. He was gracious and I paid him for his time by tossing oranges into the air that he caught and tossed along with his clownie balls.
Before he walked away I also gave him an excellent specimen of Arkansas quartz that was clear as ice. His eyes lit up and his step was a little merrier, he knew the crystal had value. Someone had helped him see his own worth and given him a crystal that if sold, would buy many bags of tobacco.
Happy clown I salute you!