Children loved him

Bozo died over this weekend.

I used to think that he was real when I was a kid. I never thought there was a person under that makeup. I figured Bozo walked around like that all of the time, that he was a clown 24/7. Until, of course, my older brother straightened me out about that, the same way I was straightened out about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

It reminds me of a little boy who was about six who ran alongside me in my wheelchair. His father kept telling the boy to get away from me. Instead of this deterring the kid, he began to run faster alongside me. And then his father put an end to it by grabbing the boy and pulling him away. "That's wrong!" the father said. "You leave people like that alone."

"But I'm playing!" the boy wailed.

I never mind when kids approach me. There's no greater opportunity to teach them not to be afraid of people with disabilities. If it's a cool wheelchair or colored wheels that attracts them, that's okay. After all, kids are- well - kids. They even believe Bozo the clown is real.

There's a magic to childhood that needs to be carefully handled. A child's imagination and curiosity grow through play and sometimes, although it's appropriate to set limits, there's also a need to see that a person on a mobility device to them looks like a new friend who gets around a different way.

I love that kids relate that way to disability. I wish more adults did.



[visual image: A photo of Bozo the clown is shown. He has white face makeup on, red lips, a big red nose, and a red wig. ]