The Trifling Blog

My sister has lovely neighbors. They are Pat and Chuck, and Pat’s baby is a 55 Tbird. And this isn’t like that room in your mom’s house that no one ever went into, that had plastic covers on the cushions, oh no. She is the real deal. Pat takes her out weekly to give innocents like me a tour of the 1950’s when life was simpler and car hops wore roller skates.

Thanks Pat, thanks Shink, Kevin, Beck and kids. We’ll be back soon. For now we gotta move on down the road. Later today it’s on to Lompoc – the backdrop for W.C. Field’s “The Bank Dick” and the home to a host of my own childhood memories.

Didn’t remember his clown’s name until I read the Wiki which is extracted below. I didn’t expect any of the odd parallels that I observed between my weird life so far and the existence of the clown made famous by Emmett Kelly.

But since I have opened this can of worms, I might as well paddle with the current.

A few months ago, I took a job, an assignment rather through my wife’s company in the coal fields running a fitness center. The gentleman who was the Executive Director reminded me of Emmett Kelly. We’ll just call this Emmett sighting number one.

A few weeks prior to that, in a conversation which must have had some reference in a dream, I used a vague and distant allusion to Emmett Kelly in a conversation with my son. Another Emmett sighting.

Finally, as I began this recent sojourn of the soul, my first stop was Dayton Ohio. When I arrived at my Xwife’s house, she opened the garage door only to reveal…standing there…FACING THE DOOR…as if placed carefully by the art director to garner maximum attention in the frame….my 1959 20″ Emmett Kelly doll. Emmett Sightings always happen in threes.

What does all this mean you may ask? I have no freakin idea yet. But the sad clown of my life will be heading down the road soon to see some places I have been, and some ghosts of Emmetts and others.

Every sojourner should have a talisman, and so Emmett comes along in the rubber tub in the bed of Ranger Rick. I don’t want him to escape, although on long stretches of road through the desert I was bothered by his constant scratching at the container (that one is for you Douglas). But really folks.

The bottom line here, is that if Emmett doesn’t cough up the real dope, he suffers the fate of his brethren his next address will be on ebay. To think that one’s childhood could be cashed in for under a hundred bucks. Such, the price of obscurity.

(From Wikipedia) He started working as a clown full-time in 1931, and it was only after years of attempting to persuade the management that he was able to switch from a white face clown to the hobo clown that he had sketched ten years earlier while working at an art firm. “Weary Willie” was a tragic figure: a clown, who could usually be seen sweeping up the circus rings after the other performers. He tried but failed to sweep up the pool of light of a spotlight. His routine was revolutionary at the time: traditionally, clowns wore white face and performed slapstick stunts intended to make people laugh. Kelly did perform stunts too—one of his most famous acts was trying to crack a peanut with a sledgehammer—but as a tramp, he also appealed to the sympathy of his audience.

From 1942–1956 Kelly performed with the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus, where he was a major attraction, though he took the 1956 season off to perform as the mascot for the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team. He also landed a number of Broadway and film roles, including the role of “Willie” in Cecil B. DeMille’s The Greatest Show on Earth (1952). He also appeared in the Bertram Mills Circus.

Kelly was a Mystery Guest on the March 11, 1956 broadcast of What’s My Line? and answered the panelists’ questions with grunts rather than speaking yes or no. When the round was over, panelist Arlene Francis mentioned that Kelly was not allowed to speak while in makeup.

Kelly is depicted in a famous photograph, still in full clown make-up and costume, trying to extinguish the flames of the devastating Hartford Circus Fire that struck the Circus on July 6, 1944, and killed 167 people during the afternoon performance in Hartford, Connecticut. According to eyewitnesses, it was one of few times in which he was seen crying.[1]

Emmett Kelly died at the age of 80 of a heart attack on March 28, 1979, at his home in Sarasota, Florida. He is buried in the Rest Haven Memorial Park, in Lafayette, Indiana

Kelly’s son, Emmett Kelly, Jr., did a similar “Weary Willie” character; the two were estranged for many years as a result. Kelly, Jr. claimed that his version of Willie was “less sad”, but they seemed quite similar to most observers.

Kelly’s boyhood town of Houston, Missouri, named Emmett Kelly Park in his honor and hosts an annual Emmett Kelly Clown Festival, which attracts clowns from across the region including Kelly’s grandson, Joey Kelly, who returns every year to perform as a special guest.

I am always amazed when a philosophy or principal of nature, or even when my basic thinking or intuition is validated by the universe. It occurred to me today that hell must indeed be real. It must be real by extension. By this, I mean that in order for somthing to be “raised” that “something” must be real. At least in the sense that it exists in our manifest consciousness. Below you will find a picture of an old friend, one Mr. Tim Haapala and his lovely wife Karen. While Karen did not herself raise hell along with us; Tim and I, it can be said, raised plenty of hell for all. You’re beautiful my brother. What fond memories you bring back. How lovely your children are! And soon to be a Gran papa! – You rock my buddy. Ya done good.

Check back often for “More from the Road”

I remember looking at the Google directions leaving Colorado heading to Modesto. They were simple. Get to Interstate 80. Go for 1035 miles. Stop. You’re there.

They were right! However, gotta say that driving in a straight line through the high desert can give a body a bad case of white line fever. I am however grateful to have arrived a casa mi hermana. For the foreseeable future, I can be found inserted in the picture below. If you need me…leave a message

Spent an interesting evening in Elko,which as we all know is the world capital for digestive parasytes. Or, at least now we know. The upside is that I am stopping frequently and this allows for more fun messsages from the road. Here’s a shoutout to Mikee Voll. Be gettin back with you soon…

So, it looks like I am mere minutes out of Elko NV. I am wondering if I should call the concierge, or just take my chances at the ticket counter for tbe big shows…

It is a little weird to go into a Flying J for my cup of joe and walk by the rows of slot machines. Toto, we are definitely not in Kansas any more.

I’m pretty sure that Elko is going to be the end of the day’s drive, so hopefully I will bring you a full post when I am ensconced in some luxury establishment. Yea. Right. But just in case we don’t have internet later, it has been a good – long day. Thanks everyone for checking up on me and Ranger Rick – Special shoutouts to: Booty, Nosmo, Beedica, Brenda…I be gettin back wif ya
‘ll.

For those of you who may be wondering whether I am coming or going, I filled up Ranger Rick just south of Greeley Colorado this morning, and free with every fillup is the answer to that question…

And becuase we have time for just one more question…”So Mr. Warrick, how do you get a head in life?”

“I shot an arrow in the air, where it lands, I know now where” – I dont know where this quote came from, but I remember doing this when I was a kid. In retrospect, standing in the wide-open and releasing a projectile straight up, only to watch it fall back to earth and embed itself in the ground next to you; is a wonder. And something you should never really admit to.

Straight lines. I have decided not to tempt fate or the temperatures in the low desert by driving poor Ranger Rick through Vegas in mid July. Rather, we are going north through Wyoming and on to Cali through the Sierra Nevadas.

As I ponder the Google map, I can sort of imagine what the pioneers must have seen when first they looked out the windshields of their covered wagons. 1000 miles of straight, all the way to the coast. And all on one interstate. Sheesh.

I find myself on a pathway now to both a known and unknown destination. Some of it looks familiar, even underneath the changes that time has wrought. The buildings, the roadways, the people, even my reflection have a slightly different look, but it is still the same underneath. If Ranger Rick, my ancient pick-em-up truck agrees, today I will continue the sojourn. Next stop – Las Vegas and my Aunt and Uncle. More reports from the road to come…

Webcam shots from Rocky Mountain National Park. When we got to the top of Trail Ridge Road, the temp was 53 degrees and people were throwing snowballs made from glacial snow that was probably a million years old or more. Let’s hear it for recycling.

One Lane dirt road up to the Continental Divide

Bob and I being impressed with technology....Ooooooooh.....