The White House
Dear Mr. President,
Thank you, from Robbie the Clown. Mr. B. is such a nice fellow and I am pleased you had him call me. The circus hasn’t gotten any better, I still don’t have a number nor a key that unlocks a locker but you had Mr. B. to call. Unless I could find a locker empty, Mr. B couldn’t give me a key and there are no empty locker. As fas as a number, I’ve given up hope….I can’t even find the building anymore…They musta’ moved it. Do you know what they did with the building, Sir?
Today a young child cried at the circus. A man had ripped her off…taken her dolls away. Why would he do that, Sir? Greed, I suppose. I saw a silent young man at the circus, just looking, not smiling, not talking. He seemed so young, so silent, so angry. Mr. President, I know you are only one man and cannot erase all the wrong being committed by man against man. What’s wrong with the system? Where has the goodness of America gone?
I don’t know where the statesmen have gone; I don’t know where the honest reliable trustworthy leaders have gone; they don’t seem to be at the old fashioned circus anymore. Do you know where they are, Sir? They must be at the new circus…where clowns appear without grease paint.
I’ve decided, Sir, that even though I can’t find the building where the SSI people are, and they wouldn’t give me a number anyhow, and even if I can’t find an empty locker, I can still do things for all the old-fashioned circus people. Since I have no locker to put my treasures in and because they have given me pleasure I will give them away. Isn’t that exciting, Sir, just think, if I give away all that I love won’t it come back to me? That’s what my old clown friend told me once…we take away frowns and give smiles…we take away care for a little while and bring gladness to the child within…why not also give away material things? I can’t take them with me when I die; anyway, God already has beautiful things. Now I must bring others pleasure with my butterfly, feather, bubble gum cards and rocks or surely I will die.
The challenge goes out to America, Sir..if I, who have so little materially, can give it all away to those who have even less, what will the wealthy do? Why do they hoard their things? Why collect these things? Why close out opportunities for those who look, talk and act different? Aren’t we all different? Isn’t that the plan? There is nothing wrong with being poor and honest cause the honest are poor, mostly. This brings to mind the beatitudes I wrote once feeling rather down cause Po, my little dog, had no bones. Here they are:
1. Blessed are the kindhearted; for they shall be trampled upon.
2. Blessed ar those who are patient in spirit, for the impatient shall outstrip them.
3. Blessed are those who are honest, for the dishonest have inherited this earth.
4. Blessed are those who have one God, for those who are hedonistic have more stress.
5. Blessed are those who have wisdom, for the foolish make all the decisions.
Well, Sir, I didn’t mean to go on and on. Your days are busy…”daughters of time, hypocrytic days” (Emerson), steal away and laugh in scorn at what has been stolen. Man’s duty as man is to keep the truth/good from being overtaken by evil, and so as my clown days are numbered, so is the circus and one day the merry-go-round will stop and I, too, will get off…with or without the brass ring.
Robbie the Clown