What was the first thing you ever wanted to be?

Firefighter?

Doctor?

Veterinarian?

Those all seemed to be fairly popular choices among my first grade peers.

Me?

I wanted to be a clown.

Yep, 5 years old and I was all Barnum and Bailey's Clown College here I come.

I so love that I was encouraged. I don't remember a single condescending or sarcastic remark about my dream.

Mrs. Anderson, my first grade teacher was the one that told me of the Clown College, when I told her what I wanted to be.

I remember it was a very formal lesson. We had to stand up by our desks one by one, and tell the whole class what we wanted to be when we grew up.

I remember being so intimidated being surrounded by these future wanna be lawyers, doctors, and firemen.

And here I am, little Madrigle the shortest boy in my class [but only till junior high, heheheheh] standing up to proclaim that I wanted to be a clown.

Mrs. Anderson was rather mean, or so my memory recalls, and I remember the shocked looks on my classmates. Their eyes pleading with me to change my future vocation, out of fear of the wrath of Mrs. Anderson. Alas, there was no wrath. Actually, she seemed rather pleased to have a non-standard answer to her question. After 3 years of teaching compared to her 30, I can empathize with the joy that a unexpected answer can bring. She must of thought it was cool, cause she brought it up as a point of note, to my parents later that week during the parent teacher conference.

This was news to them, but they were encouraging.

Oih, were they encouraging.

All of the sudden, my sisters newly vacated room {she left for college} became mine, what was it's decorating theme? [other then older vacated siblings room?] Yep, floor to ceiling clowns.

Clowns every where!

Somewhere in boxes, there are reproduction cast iron clown banks with little dogs that jump through hoops to deposit the coins into the bowels of the bank, and wind up dancing clown music boxes, and a BEAUTIFUL handmaid, porcelain, French Harlequin clown doll, and, and, and . . .

You get the idea.

It was only a couple of years until my dream of becoming a Chef, eclipsed this dream, thank God, but the clown collection persisted.

I think I had to tell my Loving family, "NO MORE FUCKING CLOWNS!"

Ok, I didn't say that, actually I was more passive aggressive.

Cause I'm like that.

I just turned them on to other collections that I wanted to start.

Like antique cooking equipment, and depression glass mixing bowls, and cook books!

Oih! The cook books, but I DO use them.

I love them!

I devour them!

I relish their words!

So, um yeah, this started about wanting to be a clown.

I don't have a nice neat ending.

A tidy way to bring this full circle

I was just sharing in my typical long winded, tangent filled, way.

Love you guys!