Actors are supposed to be these runaways that get in a covered

The words of John Cho strike the soul with the weight of old memory and the fragrance of eternal art: “Actors are supposed to be these runaways that get in a covered wagon filled with hats and tambourines and go from town to town making people smile.” At first, it paints a picture whimsical and lighthearted, but if one gazes deeper, the saying reveals a profound truth about the role of the artist, the wanderer, and the eternal bringer of joy. For the actor is not merely one who recites lines or wears costumes, but a pilgrim of the heart, carrying with him the burden and the blessing of entertaining the world.

The image of a covered wagon filled with hats and tambourines calls to mind the ancient troupes of jesters, minstrels, and storytellers who roamed from village to village. They were often outsiders, runaways from the rigid structures of society, but it was precisely their distance from the ordinary that gave them power. They could hold a mirror to kings, make peasants laugh, and remind weary souls of joy in the midst of toil. The actor, then, is heir to this ancient tradition: the one who, though never settled, brings light to every place he rests, only to depart again, leaving behind echoes of laughter and fragments of wonder.

Consider the tale of the Commedia dell’arte in Renaissance Italy. These wandering players carried trunks of masks and costumes, performing in marketplaces and town squares. They lived lives of hardship and constant movement, yet wherever they arrived, crowds gathered, burdens were lifted, and smiles spread like wildfire. Their stories, often improvised, were filled with humor and humanity, binding communities together for a brief but precious time. In this way, they embodied the very essence of Cho’s words: runaways with tambourines, bringing joy to strangers, then vanishing with the dawn.

Yet this saying carries another truth: the life of an actor, though celebrated on the stage, is often a life of sacrifice. To run away is to leave behind comfort and stability, to live a life of wandering in pursuit of something greater. The hats and tambourines, symbols of performance, may seem playful, but they are also tools of survival. An actor carries his art as both weapon and shield against the hardships of the road. His reward is not wealth alone, but the radiant faces of those who, for a fleeting hour, forget their sorrows because of him.

This calling is noble, yet it is not without weight. To dedicate one’s life to making others smile is to shoulder a holy burden. For the world is heavy with grief, injustice, and despair. The actor, like the bard of old, becomes a kind of healer—not of bodies, but of spirits. Just as a physician treats wounds with herbs, so the performer treats sadness with laughter, melody, and story. His wandering is not aimless; it is pilgrimage. His runaway nature is not rebellion, but devotion to a greater cause: the cause of joy.

The lesson for us is clear: each of us, in our own way, is called to be a bearer of light in the towns we pass through. Not all may don costumes or sing songs, but each soul carries some tambourine, some small gift that can stir another to smile. Life itself is a journey from place to place, from encounter to encounter, and in each crossing, we may choose to bring heaviness or joy. The actor teaches us that the noblest legacy is not possessions or monuments, but the smiles we scatter in our passing.

Therefore, let each who hears these words act with intention. Bring your gifts forth, no matter how small they seem. Make someone laugh when they are weary, encourage a stranger when they are low, lift burdens not only with strength but with spirit. Live as though you too carry a covered wagon of wonders, traveling through this life not only to endure, but to enrich.

Carry forward this wisdom of John Cho: “Actors are supposed to be these runaways… making people smile.” May it remind you that life’s highest art is to awaken joy in others. Whether you are a performer or not, let your journey through the towns of this world be marked by kindness, lightness, and the gift of a smile—so that when you move on, the memory of your presence lingers like a song that cannot be forgotten.