All the sacrifices that the generations that came before me have endured:
My Grandfather on my father’s side; “Harry” Boris Rosen, waving goodbye to his family for the very last time from the stern of the boat that would eventually take him to Ellis Island as the Czar’s forces overtook his village. Giving up everything in the hopes of coming to America for a better life, enlisting in the army and marrying a girl who had escaped from an orphanage only to “pump steel” in a Lexington, Kentucky sweat shop. Moving to California in a ’39 Buick, my father’s diapers flapping out the windows…
My Grandmother on my mother’s side; Elizabeth Park Dunlop Roberts Siegfreid Hill Johnson Campbell (she was married seven times) pulling up roots with her entire family (and dog) and coming to America from the little town of Rothesay on the Scottish isle of Bute in the hopes of a new life only to have husband after husband die by fires and sickness, wars and monoxide...
All the trials and tribulations, the hardships and privations were all endured so that their grandson could have the good fortune of someday becoming…
A Clown.
I just booked the role of the King of the Clowns in Cirque du Soleil’s Kooza.
I auditioned in Montreal for David Shiner and will be returning there in April. After a couple of weeks of training I will be incorporated into the show for its run in New York City and then on to runs in Minneapolis, Denver and Los Angeles (at Santa Monica Pier) under Le Grand Chapeteau, their spectacular big top tent.
Me, The King of the Clowns.
I know I have big (clown) shoes to fill, But I’m ready. I can’t wait to get on that stage under that big top with all those dressed up people to mess with!
To say I am ecstatic is such a gross understatement I won’t even do it.
Suffice it to say:
In The Land Of The Bland, The One Wry Man Is King.
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