I had just finished a show at a local home for the elderly.  Not a nursing home.  More what you would picture was called an 'old folks home' many years ago.  A lot of lonely, aging people -still mobile, still 'with it' - but needing a little bit of supervision throughout their day.  It had been a mediocre show as I tried to juggle in a low-ceilinged, dark background room.  Now I was starting to pack up my props when an eighty-something man approached.  

"I'm Rick," I said as I extended my hand.

"I'm Dale."

Then a passing staff person said, "Dale used to be a clown."

I've done enough shows in various venues to know that could mean almost anything, from someone who occaisionally dressed up for local parades to career circus performers.  But as we spoke, I could tell he was no poser.  We talked about not-household-name authors of magic books we've both read, props, and other things only a true performer of circus arts would know.  Then I asked if I could pray for him.  He paused, then said, "I think I'd just like to watch you pack up.  It brings back good memories."

I packed and he remembered.  Occaisionally he would offer a peek into what seemed to be a Nicholas Sparks movie written for an audience of one that was playing in his memories: "My wife and I used to do shows in schools.  We'd go into classrooms street clothes and let the kids watch us put on make-up and costumes."  More packing and another pause.  Then, "She and I used to teach at a clown camp for twenty-seven years."

Pack.

Pause.

Then, "She was the one who could really do the balloon animals."

Pack.

Pause.

Then, "We didn't really juggle.  Any juggling we did was comic, slapstick juggling."

And so it went.   The times they had  poor performances, scared kids with their costumes, or in some other way fell short when in character seemed no longer to mattered.  He was clearly visiting moments both sweet and sad.

As I finished packing up, I asked when he had moved to Maine.  "A few years ago," he answered.  "Our daughter had come here with her boyfriend.  He flew the coop, but she fell in love with Maine.  She convinced my wife and me to come here when we retired."

Pause.

Then he offered the information I assumed but was too cautious to ask. "My wife died earlier this year. 

"Your show brought back a lot of good memories. Thank you for letting me watch you pack up."

I realize that I was privileged to be present as Dale relived something so much more than a career as an entertainer.  He was reuniting with his partner in entertainment and in life, if only his reminiscences.