My (possibly disturbing) divulgence is in response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.” Before the movie “It” ruined clowns for the majority of the world, I was an avid fan of the face-painted comedians known as clowns. When I was three years old, my parents let me start a collection of anything I wanted to pick. I remember sitting in the shopping cart at Thrifty Acres, zeroing in on the clown figurine shown left in the photo below.
At one point in time, I had over 350 figurines. I had a balloon- animal- making clown at my graduation open house, and voluntarily did temporary tattoos for children at a church carnival while dressed in full clown garb and make-up.
I never treated my figurines like they were friends, or companions, but instead, my collection served as a fun catalyst for friends and family members who wanted to surprise me with an odd and quirky gift. I was defined as the funny, if odd, girl who loved to laugh.
My ex-husband stole and sold all but twelve of my collection, but recently James and our children surprised me with a clown exactly like one of the ones that I had lost. It is one of my most cherished gifts, as I find it symbolic of my childhood and adulthood intertwining.
I also think that somehow, my clown collection encouraged me to keep a childlike innocence and sense of humor through all of life’s ups and downs. Hopefully, guests to our house won’t run in terror from my proudly displayed collection of 13 clowns. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll grin and say, “You’re such a goofy girl-woman”.