Dayum tooting if that beloved Stealers Wheels song, that we’ve all heard so many times, doesn’t give us the ability to sing and dance, all while pointing out those clowns and jokers all around us, without causing offense. Heck we aren’t really calling them out on their clowning or jokery…the song is.
Now I love this song. Enjoy hearing it, as I did last night, by bands brilliantly covering it. Enjoy dancing to it, singing to it, all while surrounded by many a clown and quite a few jokers. But other than the chorus, the song holds little to no meaning for me…
yes I’ve been scared and even fallin off a chair or two. And from time to time I’ve wondered how I’ll get down some stairs. And for goodness sakes any one who knows me, knows there is rarely not a smile on my face and often I’m all over the place.
But the clowns and the jokers they are my squad, my people, my tribe. They seemed magnetised into my life.
After all like attracts like, so they say.
I feel free in the presences of those that let loose, cut free, live life full-out and fully on. My silliness is appreciated amongst such and I become even more myself, more alive, more…
Yet it is the one in the middle that I am stuck with. The middle man. The straight man. The non-clowning. The non-joker. The brilliant man who willingly stays stuck in the middle with me despite all the silly, craziness that the clowns and jokers of my life have provided. He is the one I am stuck with. And boy howdy am I ever grateful for it.