Boerne Star & Recorder (Boerne, Tex.), Vol. 99, No. 74, Ed. 1 Tuesday, October 11, 2005 Page: 8 of 24
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PAGE 8
The BOERNE Star & Recorder
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Trials and tribulations living with an uncommon lyricist
Imagine being married to a person of
uncommon melodic aspirations, a person
who awakens each day with a new tune
melting from his tongue. That’s the
Breadwinner.
He has a song in his heart ... a song to
be shared. Problem is, he never seems to
know the words.
Problem for me that is, but not for him.
He guilelessly, mercilessly composes his
own lyrics. He’s mutilated songs for many
a long year;
I knew better - or I should have - during
the days of our engagement when I real-
ized that he could somehow stail out with
“Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring” only to
seamlessly end up on “My Dog Has Gone
the Fair.” Any girl with a lick of sense
would have listened to her mama and
hastily returned the ring.
However, I don’t think my desertion
would’ve stifled him. He’s too steadfastly
committed to ruining all sorts of songs
OFF THE MAIN
Elena
Tucker
through the years. It’s been a passion with
him: everything from classical to pop to
advertising jingles to any Rodgers &
Hammerstein favorite ever put to score.
His capacity for musical destraction has
been limitless.
itely I’ve had this snippet of “Fly Me
to the Moon" stu k in my head. I can’t
seem to recall xactly how it goes, and
T it I do know ops endlessly round and
round is my head:
“Fly me to the moon and let me play
among the stars
Something-something-something- cisely what Aunt Shirley’s role was as we
something Jupiter and Mars.” worshiped with “Shirley Goodness and
See, the Breadwinner isn’t satisfied with Mercy.” A common enough childhood
this pitiful effort. He must make some- mistake.
thing up. Something gushy and hare- Then there was “Oh what fellowship, oh
brained like: what joy divine” that was sung fortissimo
“Fly me to the moon, my Van Gogh, (if somewhat bewilderedly) as “Oh-what-
paint me in the stars pillowslips-oh-what-georgie-vines.”
Love me astronomically,’ cause you be My favorite hymnological character, be-
no Renoir.” cause of his sheer capacity for mystique
Welcome to my life. You see, the Bread- was the baffling and portly Round John
winner refuses to be lyrically limited. Virgin who lurked in the shadows of the
Nowhere does nature abhor a vacuum stable as we intoned “Silent Night.”
more than inside the head of my spouse. Sadly for me, this inability to adequate-
What he can’t remember he will cobble ly discern lyrics lasted into my adult
together, however bizarre the results. years. The Breadwinner still ridicules me
Of course, we all did this sort of thing as for “Apartheid Lover,” a song made fa-
kids. If we didn’t know the words, we had mous by Stevie Wonder. Yes, I honestly
to fill the void somehow. Our brains made thought it was a politically motivated
things up whether they made sense or not. song. Made absolute sense.
Songs that resonate most clearly in my Good thing the Breadwinner stuck by
memory are church songs that got all tan- me through that, although if it had been a
gled up. Like, I couldn’t figure out pre- James Taylor song he’d have left me
choking in his dust. Some songwriters are
not to be trifled with.
Sinatra, however is fair game. While I
unimaginatively hum
“It had to be you, it had to be you
Dum-duh-dee-dum, dum-duh-dee-dum,
doodle-ee-doo...”
the Breadwinner’s brain is working
overtime. He’s whirling around the house
crooning lyrics that drip with ardor and
amore.
My man catches me in his arms and
sings
“It has to be glue that sticks me to you
A zipper won’t work, Velcro might hurt
It has to be glue.”
Honestly.
You’d have to hear it to believe it.
It’s to this that I awaken each morning.
Somebody save me.
Mama, forgive me. - I should have lis-
tened to you.
I’m Velcroed to a Van Gogh gone mad.
1 am sick, sick, sick and need Mom’s medicine's
This week found me fighting vice, no matter how true it may
my once a year bout with the
ague. The ague is a contraction of
the words ache and age. Not
many people contract it anymore
since disease has gone high tech
and even the smarmiest of ills re-
quires a $3 pill twice a day.
I went to the doctor. Nobody is
supposed to suffer anymore and I
was sure he would hand me a few
prescriptions for miracle drugs
that would put me on my feet im-
mediately.
What he said, though, in effect,
was “Go home and tough it out.
Drink fluids and lie around a few
days. You will probably be all
right.” With that “probably” ring-
ing in my ears I went home to be
miserable.
Time was when I would not
have had to put up with such ad-
be now.
When I got a cold I went to
Doctor Mom and she took over
my case. She put me on a regi-
play. None of this “go home and
tough it out,” or ‘take two $3 pills
a day and call my secretary when
you run out of money.”
She had a lot of remedies. With
STICKS & STONES
never Utter as much as a moan in ailed me at the time, but it in-
the direst of circumstances. In volved the chest.
this case I was about to reach the She took those leaves and
point of shaming myself with a pounded them to a pulp. It was a
men of hot lemonade with honey, the doctor 15 miles away and the
Then she dosed me with a tea- depression gnawing away at our
spoon of sugar into which she slim assets, he was the court of
had put three drops of turpentine, last resort anyway.
After that she rubbed about a One of her remedies that has
cupful of Vicks Vaporub on my served me well over the years has
chest and throat and wrapped me been the kerosene cure It is for
in flannel like an Egyptian puncture wounds. Out in the
mummy. sticks we had plenty of them -
Somewhere along the line I re- from nails, thorns, splinters and
ceived a generous helping of cas- all other sharp objects.
tor oil, which may not have been She just put enough kerosene in
that beneficial in curing the cold, a pan to cover the wound and had
but certainly contributed toward you soak in it. It never got infect-
the general activity which served ed, it never even got sore.
to keep my mind off my misery. Recently I mentioned this mira-
Her bedside manner was con- cle cure to a doctor who curled
cerned with keeping the ball in his lips in derision. “It might kill
Ed Davis
the germs,” he said, “but it also
kills the tissue” The key word is
germ, as I see it. Tissues can re-
build themselves.
She had other soak remedies,
too. Once I got a badly infected
foot from some “going barefoot”
accident or the other. It became
badly swollen and the pain was
throbbing right along.
In those days I was a big admir-
er of the Indian boys I read about
in the Wild West Weekly who
moan or two.
Mom had tried two or three
remedies that proved ineffective.
As a last resort, before taking me
to the court of last resort, she
brought out her clabber soak.
She had me sit on the side of the
bed an put my foot in a wash pan
of hot clabber milk This began at
about bedtime and ended in the
morning when I came awake to
green, slimy, gelatinous mess that
lay on me like a lead weight. I
can only say that it must have
cured me since I lived to tell the
tale.
I suspect that most all of today’s
miracle medicines come out of
such home remedies. Quite often
I see an advertisement for some
medicine that has suddenly been
discovered by scientists investi-
find my foot in the pan of icy gating the root, or bark, or leaves
clabber and the pain and swelling from some little known plant.
gone. One thing I must say for Mom’s
In addition to soaks, she had remedies: they did not come with
poultices, too. The most memo- long string of cautions about the
rable one I ever experienced was possible side effects that might be
made of the leaves of the madeira worse than the ailment they were
vine. I cannot remember what designed to cure.
Confronting problems is always better than alternative
QUESTION: If you were a
counselor who was helping
someone manage a crisis situa-
tion in a marriage, your recom-
mendations to exercise tough
love could potentially kill the
marriage. Doesn't that make
you nervous? Have you ever re-
gretted taking a family in this
FOCUS ON THE FAMILY
How can I begin to put a sense ward to that festive season, not ing dinner, each person is given
of togetherness into this har- just for the food, but for what two kernels of Indian corn to
ried household? How do you happens between loved ones who symbolize the blessings he or she
put meaningful activities into
your family?
Dr. James DR. DOBSON: One way to ac-
Dobson complish that is by creating tradi-
tions in your home. By traditions,
come together on that occasion. is most thankful for that year.
We also have designated foods A basket is passed and every
on the other holidays throughout member drops in the corn while
the year. On New Year's Day, for
reasons that I cannot explain, we
direction? The love must be tough - con-
DR. DOBSON: To answer that frontations and ultimatums are
question you need to understand like that. They may result in the
howl see my situation. My role is sudden demise of a relationship,
similar to that of a surgeon who But, without the crisis, there is a
tells a patient that he needs a much higher probability of a lin-
coronary artery bypass operation, gering death
The man sits in his doctors of- Instead of bringing the matter
fice, hearing the probabilities of to a head while there is a chance
success and failure. . for healing, the alternative is to
If you undergo this operation, stand by while the marriage dies
the doctor says, "research shows with a whimper. I’d rather take
you 11 have a 3 percent chance of my chances today, before further
not surviving the surgery. Wow! damage is done. A blowout is bet-
Three out of every 100 people ter than a slow leak,
who submit to the knife will die ...
on the table! Why would anyone QUESTION: My family fives
ran that risk voluntarily? Because together under one roof and we
the chances of death are far share the same last name, but
greater without the surgery, we don’t "‘feel’’ like a family.
I'm referring to those recurring enjoy a Southern meal of pinto
events and behaviors that are an- beans cooked at least eight hours
ticipated, especially by children, with large chunks of lean ham,
as times of closeness and fellow- served with corn bread and little
ship between loved ones. onions. It's so good!
In our family, the centerpiece of For many years, we invited 30
our holiday traditions is food, or more friends to our home on
Each year during Thanksgiving July Fourth and served them bar-
and Christmas, the women pre- becued hamburgers and baked
pare marvelous turkey dinners beans. This became a prelude to a
with all the trimmings. fireworks display and much fun
Another great favorite at that and laughter.
time is a fruit dish called am- There are many other traditions,
brosia, containing sectioned or- Immediately prior to Thanksgiv-
anges and grapes. The family
peels the grapes together the
night before the big day. These
holidays are wonderful experi-
ences for all of us. There's laugh-
ter and warm family interaction
throughout the day. We look for-
sharing their two richest bless-
ings from God during that year.
Our expressions of thankfulness
inevitably involve people - chil-
dren, grandparents and other
loved ones.
As the basket moves around the
table, tears of eciation and
love are evid rany faces. It
is one of ' . most beautiful mo-
men? of he year.
The great value of traditions is
that they give a family a sense of
identity and belonging. All of us
desperately need to feel that we're
not just part of a busy cluster of
people living together in a house,
but we're a living, breathing fam-
ily that's conscious of our unique-
ness, our character and our her-
itage.
That feeling is the only antidote
for the loneliness and isolation
that characterize so many homes
today.
This column brought to you courtesy of
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Cartwright, Brian. Boerne Star & Recorder (Boerne, Tex.), Vol. 99, No. 74, Ed. 1 Tuesday, October 11, 2005, newspaper, October 11, 2005; Boerne, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1663406/m1/8/: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Patrick Heath Public Library.