DESIRE UNDER THE BIG TOP

I've always loved to make people laugh but the true object of my desire, for as long as I can remember, has been to don the greasepaint and run into one of the Ringling Brothers 3 rings as a bona fide clown. I discovered the talent to amuse at an early age. I was 6 and, as was the normal course of my school day, cutting up in my first grade classroom in the hopes of eliciting a giggle or 2 from my friends and fellow students. The teacher was, as expected, the one person who was not amused and had finally had it with my hijinx. Livid, she jumped out from behind her desk, realizing, in all the wisdom that she could muster up in her 24 or so years, that the best way to deal with me would be to embarrass me by treating me just like I was acting. “Bobby B,” she yelled, unable to pronounce my then 14 letter last name, “if you are going to act like a 5 year, then there is no place for you here. Pick up your things and go back to the kindergarten where you belong.” Semi dejected, with shoulders bent and head bowed, I found my way back to the kindergarten classroom, opened the door and saw, to my delight, that it was somebody's birthday and they were having cake and ice cream. It was right then and there that I realized that comedy pays. My course was set by the ripe old age of six. I maintained, to the best of my ability, my status as class clown for as long as I possibly could, occasionally going toe-to-toe with Billy, the spitball king or Eddie, the 3rd grade poet whose “The cow went up the drainpipe” piece made me scramble for anything remotely funny to counter with. If nothing else, they kept me on my toes and my creative juices primed. All through junior high and high school, which I was thrown out of for flushing plastic cherry bombs in the boys room, and, eventually 3 years of boarding school and 6 months of college, I worked on my “chops.” I got into trouble all along the way, of course, but always attributed it to a sadly lacking sense of humor among any and all authority figures. I was determined to be a clown. As I got older, I continued to pursue my passion and ended up doing a morning radio show which allowed me the luxury trying out new material every day but I still wasn't satisfying the initial desire to paint my face, put on a big red nose and baggy pants with giant, floppy shoes and run around the big top. Then, one day while I was doing a morning radio show in Philadelphia, the circus came to town. I was beside myself when I got the call from the Ringling representative who said, “We like to use local celebrities as guest clowns when we are in town and were wondering if you'd be interested?” I could barely contain myself. This was my dream come true and it was actually going to happen. I had a few weeks before the performance and I used that time to become a fairly astute student of the art of clowning. I read up on the master clowns like Emmett Kelly and Felix Adler, read all about the Feld family and everything they had done with show since buying it from the Ringlings, everything I needed to know to fulfill my lifelong desire with aplomb and grace. Finally, the day came. I was so excited I could barely contain myself and hadn't slept a wink the night before. I went to the circus and brought my oldest daughter, who was about 5 at the time, knowing she would have every bit as much fun as I would. As we were sitting in the complimentary box seat provided by the Ringlings, my daughter mentioned that, being about 3 feet tall, she was having trouble seeing the animals so, being the good dad I was supposed to be, I hoisted her onto my shoulders, immediately pulling a muscle in my neck and rendering me unable to turn my head. “Let's go,” I heard a voice behind me say, “you're up next.” I wanted to cry. I just couldn't do it. I could barely get back to my car for the drive home. I never DID get to be a real clown. My daughter is now a 42 year old chiropractor in Orlando and a very good one. She also teaches chiropractic at UCF. If she had only decided to pursue that profession when she was 5.