Caboose

I was thinking this morning about my grandfather.  He died when I was very young, so I never really got to know him.  The only thing I really remember about him was that he was a clown in the Shriner’s Circus.  His costume was a policeman, like those old keystone cops, with a blue wig and white face paint.  His clown name was “Groovy”.

When my brother, two cousins, and myself were old enough (I had to have been about three at the time), my grandfather decided that we were ready to join the circus too.  So, he got us all outfits and wigs, and he gave us clown names.  I was “Caboose,” because I was always the slowest, and everyone had to wait for me to catch up.

I can even remember being at daycare, and the teacher taking me into the bathroom to help me get ready for my big debut.  I had a rainbow outfit, red wig, and a yellow hat.  I even had my face painted, just a dab on my nose and cheeks.  My grandfather took us with him in the parade at the beginning of the circus, each holding the hand of the one next to us.  I was last, of course, but that’s okay, because I was the only one that got to wave to the crowd as we walked around the arena.  But the absolute coolest part came afterward, when we went outside and signed autographs!  Everyone wanted us to sign their programs, and my grandfather couldn’t have been prouder of his little clowns.