It’s odd how my mind digs up random bits and pieces, and throws them around while I’m in the shower. It’s like a herd of wildebeests rampaging in there — and all before I’ve had my coffee. Not nice, Brain. Not fair.
Today’s offering comes from 5th or 6th grade.
Looking back, I must have been a royal downer to my family. I’ve always been attracted to cemeteries, bats, ghosts and the things that go bump in the night. I also suffered from depression, so I was pretty much a solemn child with no sense of humor beyond gallows humor, sarcasm and the Roseanne-type, knife-in-the-ribs stuff that only family can successfully pull on each other.
In short, I was a gloomy edition Wednesday Addams. The Lisa Loring version.
For some reason in either 5th or 6th grade, the music teacher decided to teach us the song “Tie Me Kangaroo Down.” Why you’d teach a song involving bondage to a bunch of grade-schoolers, I’m not sure. This was before the movie “Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down” and I wasn’t into reading romance novels, so the subject never came up. But I digress.
The last stanza we were taught was “Play my didgeridoo, Blue.” I told the teacher there was another stanza. He said no. I said yes, and proceeded to sing:
Tan me hide when I’m dead, Fred
Tan me hide when I’m dead
So we tanned his hide when he died, Clyde
And that’s it hangin’ on the shed!
The music teacher and the scholastic teacher were horrified. The principal and the school nurse got involved. My parents were called. Questions were asked: “Do you understand what that MEANS???” Uh, yeah!
Apparently there was debate on whether I should be allowed to read “Tell-tale Heart” and “Ghosts, Ghosts, Ghosts.” Luckily, The Lion King was not even a gleam in Disney’s eye, so there was no singing of “The Circle of Life.” My mom can’t carry a tune in a bucket.
Now why in the world would my brain throw that out at me while I’m trying to cop a little zen in my morning shower? Naughty Brain! No biscuit!