I'm Joining The Circus...

I wish, in my high school years, I had known that there was an alternative college meant for me.  I lived in Florida, for crying out loud!  Just 400 miles away from the school that was designed for me and no guidance counselor ever suggested it.  If just one counselor took a moment to suggest the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Clown College to my seventeen year old self, my life would have taken a drastically different path (probably in a very small car with an abundance of company).

I missed the opportunity.  I’ve told my girls that if they decide not to attend Georgia Tech, or Julliard, or to go directly to the Grammy Awards, I will support their decision to head to Sarasota to learn the science of circus.

Look, I know that the circus is not politically correct these days.  I get it.  I don’t care.  Before anyone bothers to shower me with animal arguments, stop.  Don’t waste your breath.  I’ve heard it, of course, but I’ve also read, listened to, and absorbed everything I can get my hands on about the circus:  the good, the bad and the ugly…the distant past, the recent past, and the present.  My love has not wavered.

There’s the show, of course.  They call it “The Greatest Show On Earth” for a reason.  When 8 motorcycles are whipping around in a tiny little cage, that is jaw-droppingly great.  When a guy somersaults from a spring board through a small hoop 10 feet in the air, that’s pretty fabulous, too.  There’s one “Wow!”, “Holy Cow!” after another and I love them all.  And, of course, a terrier riding on the back of a pig, leading a goat while the elephants regally stand watch never fails to make me smile.

But that’s not even it.  Sure, I love the amazing feats.  However, what almost always draws my attention is the show that no one else is watching.  The crew is the show, as are the performers when they’re NOT performing.  The orchestra.  The things the ringmaster never mentions.

All those guys in blue coveralls who set the next ring outside of the spotlight are doing a beautifully choreographed dance.  The guy scooping elephant poop into a trash can does it with speed and finesse.  The clowns are dragging heavy mats across the floor while wearing their giant floppy shoes.  The acrobats who were just swinging from the trapeze are now ushering a parade.  The band director catches every moment and never misses a beat.

We’ve all heard about circus family lineage. Grandfather and sons and grandsons walking the tightrope together while cousins rig the safety gear and daughters fly through the air expecting to be caught.  And we’ve certainly heard about society’s outcasts who run away to join the circus.

I wonder, though. When one runs away and joins the circus, it’s perceived that they’re dropping out of society.  I think the opposite is true.  I think they’re dropping into it.

If the circus is a machine, those people are not just the gears – they’re the TEETH on the gears.  One gear can’t turn without all of those teeth working together.  The gears run the machine that everyone sees, but the teeth make it all happen.  THAT is what I love about it.  From my seat in the audience, I see a big family.  I see familiar relationships.  I see myself.

Certainly, my family’s cars could have been confused for clown cars as a dozen silly people often came spilling out and we could set up a tent at a moment’s notice.  My brother Pat actually set up a tight rope in our back yard and practiced diving off of the roof.  We arrived with fanfare and often upset the status quo.  But we were not a circus family.   We didn’t ride the rails from town to town.  We didn’t swing from dangerous heights and we didn’t hang out in cages with lions.  But whatever we did, we did it like those guys in the blue jumpsuits.  We were – and are – a crew.  We work swiftly together and clean up poop when we have to so the show can go on.

We – and the circus – are not conventional society.  And we have an abundance of clowns.  I think that if I were anyone else, I’d want to run away and join us.