The Long Walk Again...

It's one more Thanksgiving and again I visit my little friends at Family House.

Family House, a place where families live while their children are getting chemo at UC Med Center in San Francisco.

This one day captures my whole life, compressed.

I get nervous for this show.  They've all seen me...they have other entertainers all year...They have the band Train come in all the time, why should they want to see me?...I'm not getting paid...I would rather just watch TV tonight...

And the walk.

Because it's so close I walk.  Through my busy neighborhood.  By people eating sushi and Thai food.  People going to the specialty shops getting fresh produce.

And here comes the clown, walking down the street. Very few make eye contact.  Man I have an odd profession.  I don't think my job is odd.  I just do what I do.  I don't understand why people don't run up and hug me, I'm a clown.  I walk with a big smile on my face and they stare forward and walk.

I arrive at Family House, they aren't ready, they never are.  It's Thanksgiving, all the families are eating in another room.

And then I get the kids.  And the kids laugh, and the people laugh, And the volunteers and staff laugh and laugh.  They laugh with their gut.  That's what a clown can do, get people to laugh from their gut.

There are the bald children there.  There are the babies, too young to respond.

And me.  sweating, working so hard to make people laugh.

And I succeed.  I always do.  I never think I will but I always do.

And people hug me and the kids want just one more balloon.  And people thank and thank me.

This time they forced bottle after bottle of wine on me.  Bottles of leftover wine.

I have Thanksgiving at my house too, so what the heck.

I have a bounce in my step.  I get home in five minutes.

And wash up.

I'm exhausted and pleased with myself.  I won.  I made them laugh.

Sweet relief.

And that's my life.  Nerves and release...nerves and release...nerves release.

In my little little little world.  I am rich and famous.  I'm seen the way I want to be seen, funny, silly and talented.  It's a tiny world.

I like my tiny world. 

Dealing with the sadness...

I have never really talked about this out-loud but I have pretty severe depression.

I don't think it's a surprise to my family, cause, you know, it's hard to hide that.

Although, hide I do.

So, basically, how I deal with depression is an addiction to performing.  Performing gives an intense high.  People slapping me on the back, laughter, people saying I'm wonderful, handing me cash, tipping me for being so funny.  It's fun, like eating dessert for dinner.

Then there are the slow times.  The times, I'm not working.

And when it's slow, it's tough.  The world sits on my chest and I slowly sink into the earth.

And it's hard to pick up the phone...

And it's hard to return an email...

And it's hard to get out of bed...

I'm a very smart lab rat though.  I create patterns.  Every day, I make my bed, do dishes and clean the house.

Here's the method to get me going. I time myself.  I try to do all the dishes in 2 minutes (never happens.  I have never owned a dishwasher.  This is old school, dishpan hands stuff).

I run around cleaning up the house, I set the timer for five minutes, I sweep, I pick up, and wipe down counters and run to the garbage can.  This gets me moving and out of my head.

In the old days, I was Mr. Mom.  Now,  my children don't need me, at least not much.

What's always kept me from sinking fully are the children.

There are no more field trips, reading to classrooms, running to school with the forgotten lunch boxes.
In the mix, my crown as king of clowns was stolen.  I was really good at being the best at business cards and advertising and mailings.  I worked more than anyone I knew.  At my best, I consistently did 6 or more shows, each and every week.  If you have that many, there are little chores to do.  Phone calls to return.

Unfortunately, that's old school clowning.  The new breed of clown, is really good at Yelp and has thousands of Facebook followers.  I'm not good at this part.  My job is to serve my customers, not for them to serve me.  The Yelp model has is a little arm twisting to get reviews.  I've tried it and I don't like myself when I do it.

Maybe there really are tears of a clown.  The thing is, I'm not hiding anything when I clown, I am genuinely happy to make people laugh.


It's the tears of the man that suck.