No, the title is not sarcastic. I spent three summers working with a small non-profit circus company, Make*A*Circus. I would have done it for more summers but financial realities interfered.

One of the most talented performers in the company was Ottavio Canestrelli. Ottavio was a dedicated circus performer. He was the last of his family to still do circus, in a family that had been doing circus for eight generations.

He was a great acrobat and physical comedian and he persevered in working in the circus. He showed interest in the practical aspects such as rigging and became involved in that too.

Sadly, Ottavio found the world too much to bear and he chose to leave this world.

He is missed by many people. He leaves behind a daughter. I know he loved her dearly - I saw many signs of it when we worked together. It's hard to understand how a man who loved his child so much and who loved performing so much - and was so aware of carrying on a family tradition - would choose to check out.

I don't know Ottavio to know what prompted his decision. I had not seen him in recent years - I was no longer working in the circus scene and he moved away. There did seem to be a dark side to him. I really got the impression he needed to be a clown - but that was part of what was so great about him and his performing. I guess he fit the stereotype of Pagliacci - laughing on the outside, crying inside.

Sunday I had a gig with Randy Odell at The Riptide. Randy also worked with him, as did Megan Kilian, who came to share a memorial for him. We dedicated "People Get Ready" to Ottavio's memory. Sheilani Alix sang it - you can hear a recording we did of it with her here - http://sheilaalix.vox.com/library/audio/6a00cd978a8087f9cc00d09e6c2159be2b.html

After the gig we toasted Ottavio's memory, sharing stories. Megan reminded me of some hysterically funny bits Ottavio did. I remember watching him all summer and him cracking me up every time. He was so funny it was a challenge for the band to play the cues.

We did a ritual the clown Sarah Moore, who had worked with Ottavio quite a bit, passed along to Megan. We did a shimmy, spun around three times, cursed, scratched ourselves, and then drank a toast.

The only good thing I see coming out of a death like this is it can remind us to treasure the living.

R.I.P., Ottavio. You are missed.

Remember, folks, value the living - and let them know you love them. I know I could be better at that.


PS - There's an irony that I played two church gigs and when there's a emmorial for a personal friend it happens in a bar.