Walking into a ‘clown alley’

Somewhere, someone is without their clowns.

I came across them last week while shopping at Abba House in Perry (1347 Sam Nunn Blvd.) Forty-eight by my count. Ceramic, ranging from about four to six inches. Clowns with neckties. Clowns with ruff (that frilly collar around their neck). Clowns with black top hats. Clowns with blue hats, red hats, green hats. Clowns in overalls. Clowns with black pants, white pants, pajamas. Clowns with musical instruments: accordion, saxophone, drums. Clowns with pets: dogs, birds. (I took pictures in case you’re praising my great memory right about now.) Every clown variety imaginable. (P.S. A “clown alley” is where clowns gather to get ready to perform.)

I almost bought the lot … at $2.49 each, I thought them to be a steal … but my wife says I collect too much stuff as it is. Glass fish, glass dolphins, glass starfish, glass polar bears, really beautiful and rare pieces of glass, skulls, hats, sports memorabilia, earwax (ha – just making sure you were paying attention).

They were sad. I could tell by the look on their faces. (I’ll give it a second to see if you get that.) I wanted to rescue them because I love clowns. Always have best I can tell.

My favorite clown memory growing up was the Muppet Show where Judy Collins sang “Send in the Clowns” (1975). I saw one where they set her song to a video of NFL players crashing and smashing into each other. I saw another where she stood off to the right and sang while to her left three clowns danced and did clown stuff.

I loved/love seeing clowns at the circus. I also played a clown a few times at church for the kiddos; the children’s sermon. I looked/dressed similar to Red Skelton’s “Freddie the Freeloader”. (He was called a “hobo”, but he looked more like a clown to me.) I had a fake flower corsage where if I could lure the kids in close enough, I could then squirt them. My best message – I mimed/acted it out – was kind of like a modern-day Job (in the Bible). In it, I was like him. I had lost everything. I had it all listed on small pieces of paper and tucked into my hat. One by one I motioned for the kids to pull some catastrophe out it.

One read: “I lost my home.” They read and I cried all over them (via my corsage).

“I lost all my family.” They read. I cried. (Via my corsage. You catch the drift.)

“I lost my money.”

“I lost my dog.”

“I have no food.”

Finally, when they had read them all out, I held up a finger indicating: “But wait.” I then reached into a secret compartment and pulled out a one inch by two-and-a-half-inch piece of gold paper with red lettering that read: “Ticket to heaven.” I acted out that despite losing everything, I still had my ticket to heaven. I was so happy! I kissed it. I danced.

I then mimed out the question: “Do you want a ticket to heaven?” They of course said, “Yes” in unison. I then reached into the secret compartment where I had hidden a couple of handfuls of tickets to heaven and then gave each one their very own. 

I then faced the congregation and worked out the question: “Do you want a ticket to heaven?” They of course said yes, so I then ran down the aisle throwing tickets to heaven up in the air and everywhere for everyone. I went over really well. (Except for having to come back later and pick up 100 extra tickets to heaven.)

My favorite comedian is Nate Bargatze. I’m reading his most recent book “Big Dumb Eyes”. His father was a clown; another connection.

Clowns are important.

Clowns, per Clowns Without Borders, provide “emotional impact”. “Everyone deserves to laugh and that laughter can be a form of healing.” They have historical and cultural significance (again Clowns Without Borders). The tradition dates back to ancient civilizations; jesters and such. And they can be “agents of change” (Clowns Without Borders) as they highlight the “universal right to play”. (We already know this.)

I can’t imagine why anyone would give up their clowns. Were they moving away? Did they outgrow them? Did somebody dress up like one, hide and jump out and scare them for a million views on TikTok, thus scarring them for life? Did they remind them too much of the B-movie Killer Clowns from Outer Space (1988)?

I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe it came with great sacrifice. Then again, maybe it didn’t. Upon reflection, maybe they were just content to settle for the obvious: Life’s a circus. There is no shortage of clowns.