I've always been kind of a practical person when it comes to interpreting fantastic stories and song lyrics. As a kid, I though Miss Muffet was a wimp. Scared by one little spider? She'd have really freaked if she'd been cleaning with me last weekend. And that old woman who lived in the shoe with all those children should simply move out to a bigger place. Maybe a boot would be better. Size 92. My mom was a big Kingston Trio fan. They had a song called, "MTA" which stands for Metro Transit Authority. It tells a humorous tale about a guy named Charlie who gets on a Boston subway train and, because he doesn't have enough change to pay the fare, he can't get off. The chorus goes like this:
Well did he ever return, no he'll never return and his fate is still unlearned,
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston, he's the man who never returned....
At one point, the song describes the man's wife, who stands at the station every day at quarter past three and hands him a sandwich through the window. Now, most people just take the song for what it is; a silly folk tune. But from a very early age, that lyric has bugged me big time. "Why doesn't she just had him the change he needs to get off the train?" I think I asked my mom when I was 8. What train makes you pay when you get off rather than when you board? Maybe she really didn't want him to get off the train? Maybe the guy was a complete loser and she was glad to be rid of him. See? I'm such a cynical lyrical buzz-kill.
Today, I heard a classic Christmas song that has always given me the same sort of pause. There's a phrase in the tune "Do you hear what I hear?" that says, "A child, a child, shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold....." Now maybe it's just me, but would it not be better to bring the kid a blanket? Some warm booties and a tiny fleece hat would be nice, too. I just don't think silver and gold will keep him very warm. He's shivering, for God's sake.
I finally decorated my Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It's a small $10 fake, but it looks great with lights and ornaments. I have lots of great ornaments. All together, I guess they've got some heft. Just as I was putting the last of them on the tree, it began to topple over. I felt a little like Clark Griswold at first, but managed to catch it just in time. So Ron fixed the problem by hammering a nail into the window sill behind the tree and tying a string from tree to nail to hold the tree upright. Perfect! It's pretty much what we did earlier today, when we re-staked several coffee trees that were leaning in the soupy soil.
A hui hou. Aloha!
Well did he ever return, no he'll never return and his fate is still unlearned,
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston, he's the man who never returned....
At one point, the song describes the man's wife, who stands at the station every day at quarter past three and hands him a sandwich through the window. Now, most people just take the song for what it is; a silly folk tune. But from a very early age, that lyric has bugged me big time. "Why doesn't she just had him the change he needs to get off the train?" I think I asked my mom when I was 8. What train makes you pay when you get off rather than when you board? Maybe she really didn't want him to get off the train? Maybe the guy was a complete loser and she was glad to be rid of him. See? I'm such a cynical lyrical buzz-kill.
Today, I heard a classic Christmas song that has always given me the same sort of pause. There's a phrase in the tune "Do you hear what I hear?" that says, "A child, a child, shivers in the cold, let us bring him silver and gold....." Now maybe it's just me, but would it not be better to bring the kid a blanket? Some warm booties and a tiny fleece hat would be nice, too. I just don't think silver and gold will keep him very warm. He's shivering, for God's sake.
I finally decorated my Charlie Brown Christmas tree. It's a small $10 fake, but it looks great with lights and ornaments. I have lots of great ornaments. All together, I guess they've got some heft. Just as I was putting the last of them on the tree, it began to topple over. I felt a little like Clark Griswold at first, but managed to catch it just in time. So Ron fixed the problem by hammering a nail into the window sill behind the tree and tying a string from tree to nail to hold the tree upright. Perfect! It's pretty much what we did earlier today, when we re-staked several coffee trees that were leaning in the soupy soil.
A hui hou. Aloha!
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