This is a test

By Billy Baker

Photo courtesy of the Jukebox Junction

Billy Baker, star of the Jukebox Junction Family Theater at the Chattanooga Choo Choo, has appeared in a variety of shows and venues, including the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus, Dollywood, the Comedy Barn in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., and the television show Hee Haw.

I’m a professional clown; I’ve been doing it all my life. If I ever have to grow up, I’m going to be out of a job.

In God’s job description, he allows clowns to be a 3- or 4-year-old child at a moment’s notice. Can you be a 3- or 4-year-old child again at a moment’s notice? Here’s the part one of the test:

What is the very first hurt that you remember?

Chances are you are going to need a minute to peel away the layers of living, to get to the part of your noggin that keeps the shadows from mingling with the sunshine.
When I took my own test, it took more than a jiffy for me to locate my premiere short-legs painful remembrance. It was at my Uncle Bob’s farm in Santa Rosa, Texas, where his large, freewheeling, strutting and pimping rooster chased me to the ground with his spurs in my back. I was 3 years old, and the tears were real that streamed down my blue-eyed baby face. But the emotional pain seared my soul even more than the talons, when my Aunt Belle grabbed the cocky leghorn and swung him like a lariat above her head. When she let go, the rooster hit where his head should have been and did a wild chicken dance that would have made a German restaurant proud.

And here’s test question number two:

What was the very first joyful, laugh-filled explosion in your life? Chances are it won’t take you longer than a well-thought-out smile, to find the wine that makes life livable and burdens bearable.

I was 4 when my mom and I boarded a Southern Pacific passenger car and rode to Nashville from the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. That’s the first time I rode the rails, and I loved the sound of the clickity-clack every since. Eighteen years later, the lure of that sound led me to riding the rails with the Ringling Bros. Barnum & Bailey Circus, living in a double-bunk-high clown car. Fifty-five years later, the lure of the clickity-clack rolled me to the Chattanooga Choo Choo, where I launched a comedy variety show dedicated to the preservation of the clickity-clack—and the smile.

My first train ride was happiness, but I found real joy when my older brother, whom we were visiting, took us to see the Grand Ole Opry at the Ryman Auditorium. Between the songs and the pews, I first witnessed and felt the power of laughter, when two mismatched but colorful country music clowns by the name of Lonzo and Oscar took the audience by the funny bone and didn’t let go. I can still see them, with their freckles, oversized pants and blacked-out teeth. I wanted to be them, to share that magic potion that I could feel from the bottom of my toes to the tip of my nose.

Now, all those years later, I have baggy pants, a crazy hat, blacked-out teeth and that magic potion bottle.

I believe in the power of laughter. I believe in the power of love. I believe that little children who are nurtured with both will bring happiness to the world, as they grow older.

Oh, and about that test:
When you get around to taking it, don’t waste your time on your first painful memory; it will just bring you down, like Uncle Bob’s rooster did to me. Go right to your first laughing memory. It’s easiest to find, as it still laughs inside your soul.