COLUMN: Charlie, Duck while away time by bringing smiles to faces

His name is Charlie and he’s an outlandish character who whiles away his days with a buffoonish smile plastered across his face. Occasionally he will hitch a ride with the driver of a yellow, 1932 Arm and Hammer Ford delivery van.

But he doesn’t lift a finger to help when the driver is straining to unload cases of the familiar baking soda. He just laughs and cracks jokes.

Charlie occupies space with a fastidious English duck who wears a red ribbon just so around his neck. The ribbon is tied perfectly in a four-in-hand Windsor knot.

The duck’s name is John Leslie Duck. He prefers to be called Sir Duck, but Charlie calls him Duck just to get a rise out of him.

Please don’t confuse Duck with Hartsville’s famous John Leslie “Duck” Newsome. While they may share similar names, their quacks are quite different.

Charlie and Duck have the sillies most of the time. They don’t have much to do except laugh. They have perfected laughing to a fine art. One can’t help but smile when being around them.

Their glasses are always half-full. Levity is their nature.

The two have collected music boxes through the years. Although their tastes are quite different, they are reasonably tolerant of each other.

Among Charlie’s favorite tunes are “Send in the Clowns,” “We’ll Sing in the Sunshine,” “Born Free,” “Mexican Hat Dance, “Scotch and Soda,” “New York, New York,” “King of the Road” and “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.”

Duck is more sedate, preferring “Sunrise, Sunset,” “Cabaret,” “Where Have All The Flowers Gone,” “Winchester Cathedral,” “The Sound of Music,” “Do-Re-Mi,” “Camelot,” “On the Street where You Live” and “Try to Remember.”

Lots of times Charlie and Duck will go next door to the Pig and Whistle, a pub whose specialty is ales and stout. The Pig and Whistle is classic English with its red slate roof, thick windows trimmed in blue and brown door. A flower garden greets patrons entering the front door, while lush ivy climbs one side, all the way up to the chimney.

Charlie never fails to be the center of attention. After all, he still thinks he’s a clown.

He’s a sight to behold — one who stands out in a crowd. He is literally an island unto himself.

He sports a red, derby hat that is perpetually askew atop his head. His yellow hair is as thick as a shag rug and matches his fluffy ears. He has a red nose and a smile permanently plastered across his face. He has China blue eyes.

Charlie is always laughing and fielding questions from the curious. Why shouldn’t he?

His daily outfit begs for comment.

He wears a huge, purple bow tie splattered with white polka dots. The bow tie is affixed to a loose-fitting, white shirt with yellow buttons and frilly sleeves.

The shirt is tucked into garish pants that would make Jacob blush. The pants are trimmed in orange, blue, red, purple, yellow and green with matching suspenders.

He wears peppermint socks that beg for a closer look. His red shoes would blind Rudolph.

Charlie and Duck are fixtures on a book shelf in my library. The Pig and Whistle is an ashtray I’ve had for 43 years. One would place a cigarette at the bottom and smoke would billow out of the chimney.

The two haven’t read any of the books by Pat Conroy, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Mark Twain, Garrison Keillor and William Styron, among others.

But they have conversed with some baseball figurines who listen at their leisure to “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” My father bought the figurines for me in the early 1960s. Represented are Lou Gehrig, Christy Mathewson, Tris Speaker, Rogers Hornsby, John McGraw and Ty Cobb.

I write about Charlie in particular because he has intrigued me since he was given to my boys by their grandmother in 1988. I can be down or in a bad mood, yet he has the ability to bring a smile to my face.

He’s funny and he’s always happy. A gaping grin is eternally emblazoned across his face.

He’s a trip.

The world needs more people like Charlie.