the circus came to town 3: clown edition

a Thanksgiving prayer

Thomas Hoepker: A clown at a lunch counter in a diner. Reno, Nevada, USA. 1963

Another image from the German photographer, Thomas Hoepker (b. 1936), who rented a car and travelled coast to coast in order to create a portrait of America. I previously featured his photograph, Honest Joe's Pawn Broker's Shop, Dallas, Texas (link below). See a selection of his work here.

A sad clown celebrates Thanksgiving

It’s Thanksgiving and I am sad but also grateful . . .

sad that Sadie couldn’t join me tonight because she twisted her ankle on a bad landing off her bike and now might have to miss a few shows . . .

grateful for a diner being here like this one since not all towns have good eating spots, especially not with turkey at a price any clown can afford . . .

sad that on the way here, I made a little boy out on the sidewalk cry when he saw me, then run to his mother, and even though it happens a lot and I guess I might be frightened of me, too, it still makes me sad that kids find me scary . . .

grateful for all the wide grins and laughter that tumbles behind me, all the roars and giggles that build and build in my mind so I can still hear it all long after, and how it eases my burdens . . .

sad that people like those sitting next to me don’t see my real face, and no matter how sad I really feel, they’ll never see it or even believe it because to them I look sad all the time, and there’s nothing to care about when it’s part of the act . . .

grateful to be left alone in my sadness when I need to be, like here tonight . . .

sad that there seems to be so many in this town sadder than me who sit all day in the dim smoky lobbies and casinos, letting the mechanical bandits drain their wallets and savings, while the sun outside shines forgotten on the forgotten desert sand . . .

grateful for the relief I can bring a few at our show, mostly the ones who dragged their kids along to this town, who didn’t know what else to do with them and who should be grateful to their kids for making them a little less sad and their wallets not quite so empty . . .

sad about the side-eye I get when I’m not on the job, which others don’t get (except maybe the ladies of the night), like the people in this diner who also just came from a day’s work and are dressed the way they’re supposed to for their jobs . . .

grateful for my few talents, acrobatics, my timing, how I see the funny in things, even in some of the clowns at this counter, like the guy here next to me, who I am giving a little side-eye myself because he doesn’t notice the gravy dripping down his necktie from each slice of turkey he picks up with his fork, something that maybe I can use in the show to keep everything rollicking and the bosses paying my wages so at least I can have a proper Thanksgiving . . .

sad that I haven’t seen my sisters and brother since I ran off and even sadder that I have to wonder whether they ever think about me . . . 

grateful for the people who loved the clowning antics I did on the street for a little extra change, grateful for the circus coming to Louisville and taking me in, letting me see nearly the whole country, grateful for the clowns I’ve learned from, Charlie, Molly, Chester, Shaggy, Blossom and Buster and all the others I play with and love, and of course, my dear sad Sadie, the saddest, sweetest clown I know . . .

for what I am about to receive, the turkey with gravy, peas, mashed potatoes, cranberry, at 69 cents, and an extra helping to take back to Sadie, and the wonderful evening ahead and all the unfolding funny sad days in my blessed life, I am grateful . . .

and for Clown of Clowns, the Lord Himself, who makes me truly thankful, amen.

more Thomas Hoepker: