When Tom Johnson’s children asked what he wanted for his birthday in 2008, Johnson requested a scholarship to attend Pricilla Mooseburger’s clown camp in Minneapolis.
“I warned them it was something totally outside of the box for me,” Johnson said. “That I wanted to attend clown school. I eventually asked other clowns at Children’s Hospital if I want to be better at this, how can I get better? Both of the clowns said there are a couple different ways. You can get into Ringling Bros. and take night classes. I knew that wouldn’t work. Two others mentioned Pricilla Mooseburger’s clown camp.”
More than 150 people attended the camp from around the world, including a Russian couple on their honeymoon.
Johnson took a core course in hospital clowns, where his teacher redesigned his costume and helped change his makeup into a happier clown.
“It’s a dramatic difference,” Johnson said as he showed pictures from a photo album.
Since graduating from clown camp in August 2008, Johnson visits Fort Sanders Regional Medical Center, Parkwest Medical Center, the Thompson Cancer Survival Center and the University of Tennessee Medical Center Cancer Institute every Tuesday. Occasionally, he will visit Fort Loudoun Medical Center.
A golf buddy dying from cancer encouraged Johnson and his clown friend, Harry Page, to visit chemotherapy patients.
“One of the first things I was taught was to read the room,” Johnson said. “First, I will check in at the nurses station, or I will knock on the door to see if I can come in. If there’s any tension in the room, I know better than going in. You don’t ask them how they’re doing, or how they’re feeling. Then I give them a prescription for laughter, giggles and smiles. Depending on if they have a sense of humor, I’ll give them an emergency nose transplant. I have tons of stickers since I can’t take in balloons because of latex allergies.
“You can tell when it’s time to leave too,” he added. “If a nurse or doctor comes in, I let them do their own thing and leave.”
In addition to participating with the Volunteer Clowns of Tellico Village, Johnson also serves in the Terrific Kids program with the Kiwanis Club of Tellico Village, which visits Highland Park and Philadelphia Elementary schools four to five times during the school year.
He also helps with Covenant Health’s Katerpillar Kids Camp, a grief camp for children who lost someone close. The program provides one counselor for every two children.
“There’s some ugly stories,” Johnson said. “All the ugly stuff you can think of like suicide. They’ll do a rock climb. Then they’ll do a craft. Then they’ll pass the ball around to get the kids talking. One time I helped a little boy make a memory box. I helped him with the letters as he spelled out his dad’s name. When I asked him what he planned on doing with the box, he told me he was going to put his dad’s ashes into it. What do you say to that? I told him that was a very good idea for him to place in his bedroom so his dad would be with him all the time.
“People ask me why I do this,” he added. “I think I just told you why I do this. There are moments where you don’t know what you’re doing and there are moments when you do know what you’re doing. It doesn’t happen every time, but when it does, it’s enough.”
No one expected Johnson to become a clown with his introverted personality, Johnson’s wife, Linda, said.
“I don’t know,” she said. “After he retired, he became this brand new person. We never knew what was going on inside of him because he never talked much, but he decided to do this because of his friend, Harry’s, suggestion. Originally, he wasn’t real sure, but I asked him, ‘What would it hurt’?”
Page and Johnson attended a small group together at Two Rivers Church before visiting East Tennessee Children’s Hospital as clowns.
“That was where we figured out what we wanted to do,” Johnson said. “It was easier to make kids laugh. ... We kind of fed off of each other. There’s always a clown that’s a doofus and there’s always one that knows everything. We went off that role bouncing off of each other.”
With Page recently moving to Florida, Johnson now visits hospitals by himself.
Putting on a red nose helps Johnson take on a new personality.
“I’m not afraid to engage people in conversation any longer,” he said. “If I can make a difference for a moment or two, that’s what’s important. I give them something else to think about for a brief moment instead of thinking about being sick.”
Moving to Tellico Village after retirement gave Johnson permission to start a new chapter in life, he said.
“At first, you don’t know anyone here,” Johnson said. “You open this book up. There’s lots of blank pages. You get the chance to start a new life. When we went to (East Tennessee) Children’s Hospital, that got me intrigued. Now that we’re moving (down the block), I’ve got boxes of kazoos, and I have 500 red noses.
“So you get new blank pages,” he added. “Who would of thought I would be a clown during retirement? Not too many people.”
Johnson remembers visiting a woman at Parkwest Medical Center after receiving an email from someone in his church’s small group.
“There was this woman who had cancer and went through a divorce, so she had no one,” he said. “Eventually, I was able to find her and visit, although she asked for no visitors. After returning to her relative’s home in Lenoir City, she fell and died. Her sister contacted me. ‘I’m sure Katie’s in heaven with a pink nose on.’ she said. I do believe God helps me pick the people I talk to.”
One of the most challenging aspects is visiting people without hope, he said.
“There’s a lot of grumpy, old people in the hospital,” Johnson said. “Sometimes it’s hard to get them to laugh.”
Looking back over the past 11 years, Johnson credits Mooseburger’s camp for helping him “get into (clowning).”
“I had a passion to make a difference,” he said.
