Letters

 

Remembering Yvonne Wetherell

Yvonne Wetherell was a friend of ours. The following story is how we will always remember her wacky sense of humor.

 

We were having dinner in Atlanta during the Groundhog Day Juggler's Festival with Yvonne, her husband, Jack, and her partners, Mike and John, and wondered how they could win the coveted "Grand Prix du Phil," Atlanta's highest juggling honor. Yvonne was sick and tired of the Jongleur Juggler's goody-two-shoes image and we urged her to do something about it.

 

We all decided that Mike and John should begin their regular club passing routine and a "drunken" Yvonne should interrupt and offer them a swig from her bottle. From there they would light a fake joint and pass it to the chant of "self, self, pass."

 

Now that the Jongleur Jugglers were feeling liberated, they could tackle the final taboo subject. Yvonne thought they were the perfect spokespeople for a public service announcement on "safe club passing," a frank discussion of certain precautions that should be taken when passing with an unfamiliar partner.

 

The routine began when Mike asked Yvonne to pass clubs. She wondered if he had any protection. He responded by producing a condom from his wallet and sliding it over the knob of his club. Yvonne, noting that Mike was having problems, offered some assistance. They finished the routine by saying, "You're not just juggling with one person, you're juggling with everyone they've ever juggled with."

 

We were missing a key prop for the act. So we met Jack and Yvonne at an all-night drugstore to go condom shopping. After reviewing the vast assortment, we ruled out the ribbed condoms (too much grip), the lubricated condoms (not enough grip) and selected the "Condoms for the Complete Klutz."

 

We retuned to our seedy hotel room for testing. Do we open one to test? No, we each open one to test! By the time we were finished, there were condom-covered clubs from one end of the room to the other. We wondered what the maid would think, and decided to give her a show. We draped elongated condoms over the mirror, the head­board and the floor lamp. To top it all off, we blew one up, twisted it into a cute little poodle and left it standing on the TV set.

 

At this point, even if the routine bombed on stage we had spent five hours laughing ourselves silly. But this act was destined for greatness. As the show ended, a standing ovation like none the Jongleurs had ever seen erupted from the crowd. A dumb­founded Rodger French awarded the coveted "Grand Prix du Phil," to the now-legendary Jongleur Jugglers.

 

This story is how we remember Yvonne, through her unpredictable humor and her ability to translate it on stage for everyone to enjoy.

Susan Kirby and Joe Murray, Stony Creek, Connecticut