www.simoncollier.ca

Walking down the street an old man with a painted smile and a large ragged hat squirts water at strangers. People slow their pace behind him, or give him a wide berth as they pass, doing their best to avoid eye contact else they might have to engage him. He approaches unsuspecting pedestrians standing at the crosswalk waiting for their turn to cross, and honks his horn to startle them. Childrens’ eyes widen, some with wonder and others with fear, as parents guide their young ones behind them or hold them closer to their side, away from the old man with the unknown intensions.

I don’t know this man. But he scares me.

Not because he’s a clown, or because I don’t know where his water comes from, or because he could be a child predator. He scares me because I think he’s lonely and just wants attention.

He could be nothing more than a retiree who wants to bring cheer to peoples’ day. He could be a God, testing us. He could even be hired by the City to entertain.

But that would not entertain my fear of growing old alone, watching the people around me sharing smiles, adventures and secrets that I will never be a part of. Watching lovers embrace, children hold hands as they skip down the street and friends browsing the shop windows and discussing vacation plans, while I yearn to be a part of any of it, watching from behind an imagined glass wall.

It is the fear of being alone, isolated and unloved that makes my heart break every time I see the clown.

(For those interested, the clown’s name is Denny the Clown and he’s been performing on Whyte Ave for 36 years, according to The Edmonton Sun.)