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| At the Rabbit Box this month |
One
was French. Other kids in the class were taking this for
credit and were taking it because it was required for their degrees.
The teacher was doing the class because he had a PhD in Medieval
French Literature, and teaching French 101 was the only employment he
had found. It was all kinds of sad. But it was neither the classmates'
nor the professor's fault that I myself did not care much for the
French course – my heart just was no longer into studying and memorizing.
What little bit I learned quickly fell out of my brain soon after the
completion of the class.
Another
credit-free course that I took was cross-country skiing. It is okay to laugh at
this in the same manner that my parents would snicker whenever I
mentioned maybe doing something athletic. Since I grew up in the
snow belt and seemed unlikely to be moving away anytime in the
foreseeable future, I thought perhaps if I could participate in a
winter sport maybe I would start to like the long cold season better. And this
cross-country skiing course was actually being taught in a classroom!
Bizarre, I know. Well, of course the first couple of classes were
spent talking about equipment. After that, we were supposed to go
give what we had learned a try – waiting for the snow, of course –
and I guess we were supposed to report back with questions and
observations.
At
this point in my life, I still didn't drive, so when it finally
snowed, I asked my brother Clark if he would take me cross-country
skiing. We went out one Sunday afternoon to a place that rented skis
and had trails. I did not even get a half a mile when I must have
hyperventilated (I do remember worrying and stressing over the fact
that I would be out in the cold until I reached the end of the trail
we had picked, which I think was only about 2 miles) – I blacked
out, and I could feel my legs buckle beneath me. Clark had been a
little bit ahead, but he circled back and then got help. I was able
to stand up and see again almost immediately, but my speech was
slurred and was not quite right again for the rest of the day. Clark
took me home, and as you might imagine, I did not return to the
class, and I have never tried to go cross-country skiing again. We
still don't know what had happened to me that day – folks are
usually too busy chiding me about the incident when I tell them about
it to give what might have been the cause any real thought.
The
first of the credit-free classes from UB that I took is the one that
has stuck with me the longest and was not only my favorite, but
obviously is something that has always been near and dear to my
heart. Clownology! When people hear that I have taken a clown class,
they tell other people I went to clown school. But clown school is
that college in Florida, and it is very intense. The course I took in
Buffalo was no pressure and just fun.
We
learned and practiced white-face make-up and hobo clown make-up. We
were made aware of the different dimensions of clowning – can you
think of them all? There is juggling, mime, slapstick, unicycling,
acting, magic, improv, musical instruments, balloon animals – and
countless more - and we practiced everything we could think of.
I
never had an appreciation for slapstick humor before I had to
practice it myself – I always thought it was just silly, something
for cheap laughs – but now when there is slapstick in a movie or on
stage, I study what I am seeing and I gaze in wonder.
Of
all the clown acts mentioned above, the only one I was halfway good
at was balloon animals – but only if someone or something else blew
up the balloons for me – otherwise it would take too long – no
one is having fun if the clown is struggling to blow up the balloon
before even beginning the arduous task of twisting and tying to make
the giraffe or the bunny or whatever!
And
I am good at smiling. And I take very seriously the rule about not
smoking or drinking alcohol or cussing while in clown make-up.
Valuable skills!
There
was a group called Clown Alley in Buffalo – mason clowns who did
gigs around town for free. And they worked with us in the class
instilling in us the honor and pride that goes with being a clown.
I
belonged to the Buffalo Clown Alley for about a year after graduating
from the clown class. It was mostly my lack of transportation that
kept me from doing more - and then my lack of confidence amidst what
I saw as greatness in the other clowns around me slowed me down to
such a point that I stopped going out with them.
One
gig that I did do with the clown masons was a walk-around at the
children's section of the Buffalo Zoo on a beautiful Sunday
afternoon. Dressed in full white-face, the clowns interacted
with the families who came by. Some clowns did one-on-one magic, some
did mime, some balloon animals – each would do what he or she was
comfortable with which was usually his or her specialty.
I
mostly smiled and waved to the kids while the looks in their eyes,
when they saw me, melted my heart. Of course, it was not me
they were seeing but the clown.
I
discovered that day in the zoo, I could lose all my inhibitions
inside the costume. Under the baggy clothes and the wig and the face
paint – I was stripped of myself and free!
And
if that is what it takes to make you smile, I will gladly be that
clown for you!
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20150930 Credit-free
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