"Absolutely the worst thing about this job is the travel and being away from family. I have a wife and three wonderful children, the kids are all active in sports and it's very difficult to up and leave and miss them growing up"
About this Quote
Behind the rhinestones and punchlines, Roy Clark is puncturing the glossy myth of the endlessly lucky entertainer. The line lands because it refuses the usual backstage bravado. He doesn’t complain about critics or competition; he names the unsexy grind that fame depends on: airports, absences, and the slow erosion of ordinary time.
The specificity does the heavy lifting. “Wife and three wonderful children” isn’t branding, it’s an inventory of stakes. “Active in sports” is telling, too: not just that the kids exist, but that their lives run on schedules, milestones, and small rituals you can’t reschedule around a tour bus. It’s a portrait of fatherhood as attendance, not sentiment. He’s not asking for pity; he’s quietly renegotiating what counts as a cost. The subtext is a rebuke to a culture that treats success as a simple upgrade. You can have the job everyone envies and still feel like you’re losing the only story that matters.
Context sharpens it. Clark was a working-class virtuoso who came up through relentless touring, then became a TV-friendly star in an era when entertainers were expected to be permanently available, permanently cheerful. That generational model of show business rewarded stamina and punished roots. His phrasing, “up and leave,” carries a plainspoken weariness: the constant choosing, over and over, to be somewhere else. The intent isn’t confession for its own sake; it’s a corrective, reminding us that the spotlight is often powered by someone missing the bleachers.
The specificity does the heavy lifting. “Wife and three wonderful children” isn’t branding, it’s an inventory of stakes. “Active in sports” is telling, too: not just that the kids exist, but that their lives run on schedules, milestones, and small rituals you can’t reschedule around a tour bus. It’s a portrait of fatherhood as attendance, not sentiment. He’s not asking for pity; he’s quietly renegotiating what counts as a cost. The subtext is a rebuke to a culture that treats success as a simple upgrade. You can have the job everyone envies and still feel like you’re losing the only story that matters.
Context sharpens it. Clark was a working-class virtuoso who came up through relentless touring, then became a TV-friendly star in an era when entertainers were expected to be permanently available, permanently cheerful. That generational model of show business rewarded stamina and punished roots. His phrasing, “up and leave,” carries a plainspoken weariness: the constant choosing, over and over, to be somewhere else. The intent isn’t confession for its own sake; it’s a corrective, reminding us that the spotlight is often powered by someone missing the bleachers.
Quote Details
| Topic | Work-Life Balance |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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