Circus Life

Running Away with the Circus

Written by Marcelo Defreitas

Photo by Charles Russo/SFGATE

For many years, I dedicated myself to philanthropy and to life at the ranch, caring for my animals, rescuing exotic birds, and offering refuge to any creature that crossed my path. Alongside that, I always loved bringing people together by throwing parties, organizing every detail, and creating moments of connection. After hosting many large gatherings at my home, including my wedding for 350 close friends, someone noticed how joyful and memorable these occasions were and invited me to chair an event for a local nonprofit.

I embraced the opportunity wholeheartedly, giving it my all. The event was a resounding success, raising significant funds while giving guests a night they would not forget. What I thought would be a one-time contribution soon became a calling. One event turned into another, then another, and before I knew it, I had chaired more than fifteen galas, auctions, and celebrations.

At one of these events, I met Gregangelo. We shared the stage that evening, both as ringmasters. For the first time in over a decade of working with entertainment companies, I encountered a team that cared not only about dazzling performances but also about the mission behind the event, where the money went and the lives it touched. That alignment of values felt like a match made in heaven.

Photos by Hiromi Yoshida, Zoart Photography and Angelica Irreno

Within weeks, I was visiting the Gregangelo Museum daily. Soon, we were working side by side, creating with artists from around the world, a true melting pot of cultures. These artists weren’t financially wealthy like many in my social circle, but they were rich in artistry, humanity, and care for one another. They were jugglers and handymen, dancers and admen, musicians and scientists, clowns and contortionists, sword swallowers and bookkeepers. I had found my people. And just like that, I jumped on the wagon and ran away with the circus.

The journey was exhilarating. Week after week, we staged events of astonishing scale, with 40–60 artists and crew. Costumes flew from the hands of talented makers just in time to meet the spotlight. Productions were sensational, fantastical, and alive with joy. We worked furiously and joyfully to bring wonder to audiences everywhere.

Then, darkness fell. Covid silenced the world, and our stages went dark. Yet artists cannot remain quiet for long. Within weeks, we emerged from the cocoon of uncertainty into a new metamorphosis. The Gregangelo Museum found deeper purpose, offering guests not just entertainment but profound human connection. Tours became journeys where families and friends opened to one another through tears, laughter, hugs, and revelations.

Now, as events rise again, we continue to perform with renewed meaning. Every act, juggling, dancing, contorting, stilt-walking, singing, reminds us that we are all part of something greater: a shared human story where everyone matters.

Looking back, I know that running away with the circus was not an escape but a homecoming. It was a bold leap into a life of artistry, purpose, and belonging. And what a beautiful, transformative move it has been. Would you like to jump on my wagon and run with the circus as well?

Life is a circus, and we are all performers under the big top.