Horsefeathers

HORSEFEATHERS

I.

Danny's Dairy- “The Cream of the Crop”. The words were faded but you could still make them out. The

once familiar slogan was printed on the side of each of the milk crates. Six milk crates, carefully placed

alongside each other made up the “grandstand”. It really wasn't much of a grandstand but then again

there was never much of a crowd- but it was Corky's crowd.

Looking at Corky now it's hard to picture him as he looks in the yellowed circus poster, stapled inside

his garage door.

“CORKY- the World's Most Famous Clown”, in what used to be bright red letters was printed over a

picture of a smiling Corky. A big smiled Corky.

Corky never thought of himself as famous and his “world” only consisted of small Midwestern towns

with population enough to fill the Big Top for a two-night stand. But that was years ago, too many years

ago and now Corky's world consists of entertaining a handful of neighborhood children. A typical

Saturday morning would find kids knocking on the screen door and pleading for a show in Corky's

garage. The six milk crates were almost always a sell-out. He unmistakeable shoof-shoof sound of

Corky's worn slippers on the dusty garage floor was a familiar signal that Corky was in true form with

his juggling act. Although most of the time Corky appeared to move rather slow, when it was showtime

his pace quickened and he seemed agile dancing to and fro juggling 3,4 and sometimes 5 orange balls.

It never took much coaxing to get Corky into full swing with his act, especially for his small

neighborhood friends.

II.

He could hardly believe it. There it was in the morning paper. Well, actually it was last night's paper as

Corky gets the paper when his next door neighbor is through with it. It's cheaper that way even if you

have to read around the holes where coupons used to be.

It was there in black and white- “AUCTION: Entire contents and Assets of Wilbur Brothers Traveling

Circus to be auctioned by court order, Friday Morning 10 o'clock.”

Wilbur Brother Traveling Circus was home and family for Corky for over thirty years. It has now been

20 plus years since Corky was the familiar face and headliner under that Big Top. Children would stand

in line for hours to see the show, ooh and ahh watching the animals and listen to the sound of Wilbur

Brothers Famous Calliope. That calliope-Corky hadn't thought about the calliope in a long time.

Part Magic and part imagination, the Calliope could attract children for miles like the Pied Piper. You

would think the sweet notes coming from it were candy kisses the way the children would come

running. As headliner, Corky would be perched up top parading down Main Street, as the circus came

to town. It was grand! Red, Bright Red, it's hard to forget that color. The same red as Corky's nose he

remembered people saying. And Gold- just enough sparkle to catch the glint of afternoon sun. What a

wagon! Remember the horses? White horses- two of the whitest horses ever seen, they would prance

almost in rhythm to the tunes the calliope rang out. Oh! And remember the the winged horse mounted

on top of the wagon? It was said to have been hand carved for some King or Queen in Europe many

years ago. Breathtakingly Beautiful!

III.

Friday Morning Corky was up and out the door a bit earlier than usual. It seemed funny to Corky as he

shuffled off the bus and made his way through the small crowd under the Big Top. Funny strange, not

funny haha as expected. It was unusual. It was different. No children tugging at him or stopping to say

Hello. No frightened children crying. In fact, no children at all.

It had changed, the big top, it looked tattered, dirty, old and smaller than he remembered. The “Canvas

Castle”, the “Pop-Up Palace”, Corky grinned as he recalled the nicknames for his traveling home.

And the crowd was different, these weren't circus goers, just ordinary folks, most looking for a bargain

at today's auction. Maybe a nick-knack to collect dust in the corner, a collectible or something for the

grand kids to show their friends.

No one seemed to pay much attention to Corky as he shuffled about the tent, looking, remembering-

touching. So many stories. So many laughs. A lot of hard work and even a few tears. Corky

remembered.

“Crazy! I must be Crazy!”, the old clown thought to himself as he watched bits and pieces of stories he

had lived be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

“Not as crazy as that guy” Corky mused as he watched an overweight man claim his $27.00 purchase, a

battered tuba.

Corky realized the twenty one dollars and fifty cents, he had stuffed into his pants pocket (the left

pocket-never the right, that one has the hole in it) wasn't going to go far. $21.50 was all Corky had in

the world until his Social Security check would arrive on Tuesday

“$21.50 ain't going to buy nothing” he thought as disappointment struck his already saddened face. And

fifty cents of that was for the bus ride home, he remembered. Piece by piece they auctioned of bits of

Wilbur Brothers history. Only a few serious buyers remained for the last item- the Grand Calliope.

“It's not so grand anymore” Corky muttered as he listened to the din of the auctioneer. “”No Shine- No

Sparkle- No Pizzaz” that was a good word he thought. As he surveyed the wagon he thought “Just not

the same- something is missing” The tired clown turned to walk away as a tear found it's way to the

corner of his eye. The bidders must have noticed the same because in no time it was pronounced

“Sold”.

IV.

Corky lingered a little longer than most after the auction. Hi silently said farewell to each piece as it

was loaded or carted away. A quiet goodbye to parts of his life.

Suddenly it clicked!

“The Horse! The Winged Horse!” Corky's voice startled himself as he finally remembered what was

missing from the wagon.

“The Horse-What happened to the horse on top of the wagon” Corky cried to the Auctioneer.

“That old thing?” the Auctioneer answered never even looking up from packing his equipment.

“It was so old, broken and beat up, it made the Calliope look shabby so we took it off. It's in that pile of

junk on the truck if you want it.”. He had forgotten about

“How much is it worth to you?” the auctioneer caught himself quickly.

Reaching into his pocket, Corky pulled out the crumpled bills and change “$21.50” he quickly shouted.

He had forgotten about bus fare. But how are you going to carry a winged horse on a bus anyways?

As he dug through the pile of odd parts in the back of the rusty pick-up truck, Corky's smile quickly

drooped. What he found was a wooden horse bearing evidence of years of neglect, flaking paint and

badly in need of repair. Pulling the horse from the rubbish, right wing missing, it scarcely resembled the

grand figure Corky had shared space with atop the Calliope wagon. With a sigh of disappointment

coupled with a groan derived of old age, Corky was reminded of three things: How old he was, how

heavy the horse was and lastly, he had just spent his bus money.

Twenty Three blocks. Twenty-three loooong blocks! Corky counted each one as he made his way home

with a wobble wheeled dolly, borrowed from the auctioneer's truck He had to chuckle a few times as he

noticed stares directed his way. An old man dragging a beat up wooden horse down the street. “Old

Fool! Are you nuts?” he muttered more than once, as he bumped into more than his share of parking

meters and street borne obstacles.

“What is broken down old clown like you going to do with a broken down old wooden horse?” he

wondered as he ignored the stares.

VI.

When a handful of neighborhood children showed up in the morning for their usual Saturday show in

the garage, they knew something was different. No milk crates arranged in a familiar row on the garage

floor. Instead they found a determined Corky, quietly laboring with a paint scraper over a large paint

peeled object resembling a horse propped up on the milk crates amid a sea of newspapers.

“What's that?”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Can I help?”

“Whatchgoing to do with it?”

The questions seemed to spill from the children all at once.

Corky, face covered with dust from scraping and sanding years of white paint, retold yesterday's events

for his onlookers. For the first time it was easy for them to picture him as the clown he was on his

circus poster. The paint dust on his face almost appeared to be the clown makeup he wore for too many

years.

Eagerly each of the children decided to pitch in and help. They knew by the determination on their

friend's face that this was important to him.

“This isn't going to be easy”, Corky thought, almost regretting his purchase for the 100th time. For an

old man and even a clown, scraping brittle paint chips from the horse's mane, was hard work but for a

handful of children it was an adventure. Each child took pride in their turn in helping. During the days

that followed an array of items liberated from junk drawers, garage shelves and mother's sewing basket,

magically accumulated in Corky's garage. Paints- a rainbow of half empty cans and a gallon of white,

were assembled by the children. Not surprisingly the colors of that rainbow were very suspiciously

similar to the trim on the houses in the neighborhood.

Sequins, gold braid and red rick-rack (the same as the border on one of the girl's dresses) also appeared.

As each child took his turn in sanding, gluing, scraping, painting and even oooohing and aahing,

Woody the Wonder Horse as the children called him, began to take shape. Bits and pieces of scrap

material were glued in place creating an odd looking blanket and saddle. Ribbons, no two matching in

color were glued to the mane, gold braid became a bridle and red rick-rack made a handsome halter.

Corky couldn't help to think that this shiny, be-sparkled rainbow of a horse was not quite as he

remembered it. But he had to admit the kids had done a great job and somewhere during the restoration

process, his horse became their horse, Woody the Wonder Horse.

VII.

“The finishing touch” Corky thought, as he applied just a touch of gold paint to the tips of the feathers

on each wing. Standing back to admire the group effort, Corky was tired, it had been a long week.

“Not bad for an old horse” he thought and chuckled as he realized that could apply to either himself or

Woody.

Corky had an inspiration! “Maybe to repay my little friends, this weekend's performance could be a bit

special”

His eyes quickly began to scan the dust covered shelves in the garage. Searching. “It's in here

somewhere” he thought. Then his old eyes spied it. In a corner, standing on end, tucked behind seldom

used lawn tools, was the trunk. Covered with years of dust, one could barely make out the gold leafed

“Wilbur Brothers Traveling Circus” painted across the top.

“I haven't had this thing out in 20 years” he thought. Old fingers labored with the rusty catches brought

on from years of idleness. As he was finally able to open the lid of the trunk, Corky was struck by a

flood of memories. Circus Bands, Cotton Candy, Stinky Elephants and lines, long lines of anxious and

usually squealing children.

Other than the dust and a bit of yellowing, it was just as he had left it. Make-up, brushes and

greasepaint, neatly arranged in the top tray compartment. Sponges and mirrors to the right and costumes

neatly folded on the bottom. They always were folded neat as there was little time to iron on the road.

Propping up an old hand mirror, Corky began the ritual he had perfected during years of travel on the

road. Nervous fingers, older fingers, painstakingly applied the greasepaint to his face.

“I don't remember it ever being this difficult to do” forgetting he had deep set wrinkles now where

laugh-lines used to be.

Slowly, bit by bit, a whole different Corky was beginning to appear in the dusty mirror. Greasepaint and

powder were hiding wrinkles and years of age.

His “face in place, the old clown slipped on his well worn familiar attire. Laughing to himself, realizing

the patched tramp clothes never show age. They were designed to look old some forty years ago. A

years quick adjustment with a safety pin allowed his polka dot suspenders to do their job. The broad s

shoulders earned by years of pitching the big top had been replaced by small stooped shoulders of age.

Thankfully the oversized floppy footwear of Corky the Clown still fit. A little stiff, dry and squeaky but

a good fit.

“There, just about right” he said to himself as he admired himself in the mirror.

“Don't forget the nose!”

A startled Corky looked around the empty garage and chuckled. Puzzled he thought, “Great now I'm

talking to myself”

“Don't forget your nose”

The voice was unfamiliar. Certainly not his. It was unfamiliar and not one of the neighborhood

children.

Nervously Corky looked around the garage. Nobody there.

“My mind is playing tricks on me” he chided himself and chuckled. “There is no one here but me and

this “wonder horse”

“Remember back in 63 when you forgot your nose?” If you could see behind that clown face at that

moment you would see the red face of embarrassment but it was quickly replaced with a look of

disbelief as he realized the voice was coming from Woody the Wonder Horse.

A bewildered Corky stared in amazement as Woody went on with the Nose story.

“All the kids were pointing at you and you couldn't understand why?”

A semi-shocked Corky was frozen as Woody cocked his head and shook his mane. A shocked Corky

sat on a milk crate and listened as this horse began recounting years of circus tales regarding the famous

clown.

Oblivious to Corky, the children were gathering in the doorway of the garage expecting their usual

Saturday show. They quietly watched and listened as stories unfolded between Woody and Corky. This

was a different Corky, one in costume, makeup and big shoes talking with their Woody and exchanging

stories and giggles. Well, what seemed like horse giggles.

Corky spun around, realizing he wasn't alone. His embarrassment quickly turned into the biggest smile

they had ever seen, as the children shrieked and ran to their “wonder horse”.

“Tell us more”

“Give me a ride”

“Let me pet him”

Unafraid, the children gathered around Woody and Corky, some climbing on Woody, some stroking

their new friend as Woody pranced and told stories. Corky began juggling to entertain as each child

took their turn to climb aboard the horse.

“Watch this” Woody cried as the garage door magically opened. Woody with two of the smallest

children aboard, spread what used to be wooden wings and flew out the door.

Somehow that neglected wooden horse had been transformed into something special. What used to be

wood became something of a cross between fur and feathers. Horsefeathers maybe? Through the love of Corky and the laughter of children Woody began an ascent to the clouds. It was a magical tour of the

neighborhood for his fearless riders and friends.

“Who would ever believe such a thing could happen?” wondered Corky as Woody gave ride after ride

to the eager children.

It was evening before the children had to return home to supper and baths and beds. Corky and Woody

spent the night recalling circus stories each of which began with “Remember when...”

VIII.

The sun was shining when Corky awoke. Realizing he must have fallen asleep, his head resting on the

wingtip of Woody the Wonder Horse, he slowly got to his feet. Propped up against the garage door,

Corky noticed what must have been a gift from the children. It was a sheet of poster board decorated by

all of the children.

“FANTASY CIRCUS PRESENTS CORKY- THE WORLD”S FAVORITE CLOWN AND HIS PAL

WOODY THE WINGED WONDER HORSE” was printed by tiny hands over a background of a

simple drawing of Corky and Woody.

“Those Kids!” Corky thought as he stared at their gift, a small tear streaking the greasepaint near his

eye. “Those wonderful kids”

As Corky was stapling his newest Circus Poster in a special space, on the garage door next to his prized

faded Wilbur Brothers poster, he was joined by a neighbor making the rounds as he walked his dog.

“Fantasy Circus- Huh? Where is that?” he asked, not really waiting for an answer.

“In your dreams” muttered Corky “And in the hearts of little children”

“Horsefeathers !” replied the neighbor.

“You are so right, In your dreams” came another voice from somewhere in the garage, yet no one was

there.

“In your dreams” the voice repeated from somewhere. Somewhere, near that old wooden horse.