When I told my mother I wanted to be
a circus clown
she didn't bother to nag me.
She just shook her head
and silently walked away.
That was a crushing moment
in my teenage life.
So I became a janitor instead.
Until, that is, I met Kathleen Pender.
National security won't let me
tell you how I met her
or why she was interviewing me
for the San Francisco Chronicle.
All I can say is that her courage
in the face of daunting odds at
the time made it a bedoozling
day for me.
Afterwards I summoned up
the gumption to quit my
janitor position.
After I applied to the
Culpepper & Merriwether Circus
for a position as apprentice
clown and been accepted.
Now I make balloon animals
and sell coloring books during
intermission. I clean up
after the camels. And
water the flamingos.
Turns out I'm allergic
to cotton candy.
And miss the smell of
carnauba wax . . .
Still, the example of
Ms. Pender's spunk keeps
me going.
She told me that finding
your bless came after
much suffering.
And I still have all that stuff
I took out of Colin Powell's
wastebasket -- which will
fetch a pretty penny
on the open market
I should think.
