Saturday, April 18, 2015

Go register your face.


Today I attended the bridal shower of a former student.  Many of the attendants are also former students, and several of the others in attendance are people that I've worked with in various capacities in a variety of schools in the district, so it was a very enjoyable -- and informative -- time.

Add to that, the beautiful day, and the panoramic windows overlooking an outdoor wedding at the Cameron Estate next door, and it was easy to get in the wedding spirit.

With one exception.

It was accidentally revealed to me that one former student, who had contributed a great deal of balloon art decorations, has repeatedly violated the law.  Accusations flew, and, well, I was forced to face a fear not to far from my fear of flying monkeys.

Fear of Faint (ing)

*Full disclosure:  Clowns terrify me.  For this reason, there are NO PICTURES of clowns contained in this entry.  Nor will one appear in this blog, ever.

Matthew Faint has a unique job.  He is the curator and archivist of the clown face egg registry.   Now, I've been to London three separate times, and have managed to successfully avoid knowledge of, and direct contact with, The Clown Egg Registry.   The collection is kept in two places because of its size.  Some are held at the clowns’ church, Holy Trinity in Dalston, East London, the rest at Gerry Cottle’s Clown Museum in Wookey Hole, Somerset. 

Clearly, avoiding a Clown Museum is easy, but a clown church?

Getting back to the offending former student.  Her balloon twisting skills are legendary, and apparently she's done some clowning on the side as costumed balloon-twisting performer, since she graduated from high school.

With an UNREGISTERED face.  

This is frowned upon (go ahead, picture the sad clown, {shudder, shudder, shudder} and continue trying to sleep in the dark.)  Clowns must, apparently, never, steal the makeup, likeness, or name of another, and should protect their identities for -- apparently -- both personal stage reasons AND, as was suggested at the table, to provide appropriate alibis in case of false accusations of crimes.  (Because we KNOW the clown is always the one who did it!)

The randomness of the conversation at the table made me feel like these kids were hanging out in high school sharing obscure facts, with each one more bizarre than the last, causing me to wonder which fact was a total lie in attempt to pull one over on me.

I learned a lot, had a wonderful afternoon, was part of the winning "design a wedding dress out of toilet paper" competition, and left with prizes and favors.  

The biggest takeaway of all, that I will continue to pay close attention to the conversation of members of generations other than my own to stay abreast of current topics and trends.

And I will avoid East London, at all costs, in February,  when scores of clowns gather at Holy Trinity Church in Dalston, the official church of the British clown community,   to honor the memory of Joseph Grimaldi, the popular 19th-century London-born entertainer who is acknowledged as the father of modern clowning.