Silly Songs

I wish I'd known my Mother when she was young. She told us very little about herself, but I could tell from the photos she loved having fun. She had a wicked sense of humor. (Here at age 14)

And she loved being with friends.

One of my fondest memories happened when I was in the first grade in LaCrosse, Wisconsin. Mother and Daddy had been elected co-presidents of the PTA (Parent Teacher Association) and had decided to do a fundraiser for the school. What I remember most vividly is a group of people gathered in our dining room. They were putting on costumes, acting silly and laughing a lot. Mother came down the stairs and I couldn't believe what I saw. She was wearing a bright gingham dress with a full skirt. A ruffled petticoat peeked out at the bottom. Her long dark hair was braided with wire so it curled out like great wings on either side of her face. Huge ribbons were tied at the ends of the braids. Her legs were covered with sagging black stockings, a hole in one knee. Lace-up black boots covered her narrow feet. Best of all, she had dark freckles over her nose and had "blacked" out one of her front teeth. She stood in the doorway, feet crossed awkwardly, her finger in her mouth. We were all speechless.

     Daddy looked rather tame beside her in his knickers and straw hat. I could hardly wait for the show.

     The setting was an old-fashioned schoolhouse. I'm sure there was a story or plot, but all I remember is Mother singing "In the Little Red Schoolhouse." She was a show-stopper. I remember the tune and most of the words.

In the little red schoolhouse, with my book and slate. In the little red schoolhouse, where I was always late.

DA-DA-DA-DA-DA in those days of yore (I warned you I couldn't remember them all!)

How we'd all stand up and holler "two and two are four." And when we shoulda been learnin' about the golden rule, our little hearts were yearnin' for the swimmin' pool. We could hardly wait for the four o'clock bell. When he heard it ring we all would run like HECK! Oh, gee, I wanna be in the little red schoolhouse.

Ten o'clock the spelling lesson's just begun. Johnny throws an ink ball just for fun.

Hits the teacher's back with an awful splat! Teacher turns around and says, "Who did that?"

Pretty little Percy in the very front row, raises up his hand and says, "Teacher, I know."

Little Johnny whispers to the teacher's pride, "You just wait 'til I get you outside."

Johnny's told to stand with his face to the wall. He says, "I don't wanna," and he starts to bawl.

"If I turn around I take an awful chance, I got a great big tear in the seat of my pants."

Oh, gee, I wanna be in the little red schoolhouse.

I never heard her sing again. I guess being a star once is enough for any lifetime. Daddy was the expert when it came to silly songs, but I'll tell about his another time. This space belongs to Mother. I do miss her.

More Pieces

     I friend gave me an herb garden and I killed it. I didn't mean to, but it died just the same. I tossed the last plant out today.
     Seems I killed them with kindness--over-watered and over-fed. There's a lesson in there, I just know it, but I'm not going to pursue it today. I'm going on a cruise next week. Waste not, want not.

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     I was in Maine one September, visiting son Doug who was on location working on a movie. He had rented a cottage on a pond (that's Maine talk for a lake) and asked me to visit. "You'll love it, Mom," he said. He was right, I did.

     I had lived on the shore of Lake Wissota in Wisconsin while growing up.

I often envied my city friends being able to visit each other whenever they wanted, but the quiet of the country was right for me. There were three Lombardy Poplars at the edge of our lot my father called the 'old maids.' I would lie out on a summer night and listen to them whisper to one another, secrets I would never fathom.

     The bedroom I shared with my sister had a dormer window that looked out over the lake. Daddy had built a window seat there and Mother had made a pretty cushion for it. I spent hours reading and dreaming there.

     One summer night, I woke and went to sit in the alcove. The moon over the lake was full and cut a shining path across the dancing waves. I stared in wonder. And then I saw them, a pair of loons swinning across that silver band of water, their sad call cutting through the night air. I felt a chill rise in my back. This was a scene I would never forget and I knew it. I sat quietly for a long time to honor the moment and the loons.

     Those days in Maine brought back memories of living on Lake Wissota. Made me look more carefully at the "movie" I'm making called "My Life." It consists of billions of moments, magical and full of wonder.