Panhandler

A and B go side by side. And never the twain have met more than in my case. Accosting and something short of begging, A and B, have been my two primary preoccupations these last two years. It seems that these two preoccupations were in my eventual make-up, as A, B, and C, for Clover, are a definite alphabetical and familial trio. Maybe I should change my name? Nah. Clover is supposed to be lucky, right? Not so. At least not during this last chunk of time. In fact, my name has been playing me for a fool these last twenty-four months. My mom always told me I could change it if it was too "flower-power" or something. And even though it seems that I have been reduced to a common panhandler lately, clawing and nagging my way towards the holy land of permanent job status, I can't help but think that the sentiment and the strength of the name will take effect again. Sort of like Superman overcoming kryptonite, regaining his special supermanny powers. Perhaps doing my time as a panhandler is a panacea for the rest of my life. Perhaps I needed to suffer a little, a lot for a time. Perhaps I needed to accost and beg for every crumb of human decency, approval, recognition these last two years - perhaps I needed to learn it and do it the Joan Rivers way.

Rivers was on Charlie Rose last night promoting the documentary "Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work." She is a piece of work. Funny, smart, and indestructible. Really. Nothing seems to steam-roll her, and if it does, she scrapes her flattened self from the pavement, dusts off, and moves on. I have always been a fan, but never more than yesterday, when she described all her trials and tribulations. She has always landed on her feet, despite her nine long lives. She has begged and clawed and accosted without shame. She is a panhandler if there ever was one. She yanks and yanks and yanks on the bus's bell cord, until it has no choice than to come to a screeching halt. Rivers runs the show no matter what. Frankly, A,B, C, and J should be in closer proximity.