Archive for November, 2008
Clown Questions
November 6, 2008 8:21 am
Jess was a cat again, and I was a clown from the neck up.
Before the first flock of trick-or-treaters took to the streets, I entered the bathroom just as Jess, cat ears already intact, was drawing on the last of her whiskers. She had also done up her nose the color of a maraschino cherry.
“Your turn,” she said.
I took a seat on the toilet lid, which made for a nice impromptu beauty station. Blue and red were Jess’ primary colors of choice, and before I could say the sort of clown I hoped to be, she said, “All done.”
Perhaps I was a clown from the Great Depression, back when circus budgets were tight and clown make-up had to last, because Jess had applied only the strict bare essentials. My cheeks had smudges of peacock blue, and my mouth at rest wore a thin lipstick smile. The rest of my face bore the color of my own ruddy complexion. But add the rainbow wig and sponge nose, and, technically, I guess, I passed for a clown. Although, I wondered if more serious clowns, like Ronald McDonald, might argue this point. Which brings me to a deeper, perhaps, more philosophical question: are all clowns equal?
Take for instance Batman’s clownish arch-nemesis, the Joker, namely the one played by Heath Ledger in the latest Batman movie. This costume was the most popular one of the night, though some were better than others. In fact, I got a laugh-snort when I confided in a pair of Jokers who were at our door wanting candy that I was dressed as the Joker, too. Evidently, my clown costume failed to meet the criteria of the cool, deranged, PG-13 Joker. Even Jess seemed ashamed.
“No he’s not,” she reassured the Joker twins. “He’s not the Joker.” Then she dropped candy into each of their bags as if to smooth things over.
What was the big deal? The Joker’s a clown. I’m a clown. You’re a clown. We’re all clowns here, aren’t we? Or are we?
After the Joker twins left, I became insecure about my clownliness, or lack there of. But this soon wore off when I noticed that some of the smaller trick-or-treaters refused to take candy from me. Instead, they eyed me warily from behind their parents’ legs. Maybe I wasn’t the Joker, but there is something to be said about a grown man-clown who strikes fear in the souls of two-year-olds.
“His dad never liked clowns either,” barked one’s grandma, laughing like a lunatic as she towed her mute grandson to the next house. Ironically, I was frightened of her. And that’s when it hit me: does the makeup make the clown? Because this woman wore only her God-given face. Not that she was ugly; she just had that wild, Halloween clown look about her that even the best Jokers of the night couldn’t capture.
I may never find the true answers to these clown questions. But now that I’ve been a clown, I like to think that I can better relate to their culture. They’re people, too. Just like you or I.
Concerning cats, I don’t think Jess put that much thought into her costume. And our small dog, who dressed up as a ladybug, probably had no idea she even was a ladybug.
