Variations on a Theme Song

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who have a theme song and those who don't. 

The year my friend Linda and I lived together in college, on most weeknights she would walk through my bedroom door at about 11:25 singing "Da da da daa da, Da da dada da da." In case you don't immediately recognize that transliteration, it's Johnny Carson's theme song from The Tonight Show, which started after the 11 o'clock news. Since then, I've always wanted my own theme song (and backup singers, but that's another discussion). 

I've been thinking a lot about theme songs lately, since I find myself unable to remember new information due to the huge portion of my brain that has dedicated itself to preserving every commercial jingle and theme song from my childhood and early adult years. Let's see if you suffer from the same affliction by playing a quick round of Match the Theme Song with the TV Show:

1. Suicide is Painless 2. Love is All Around 3. Making Our Dreams Come True 4. I'll Be There for You 5. Searchin' My Soul 6. Movin' on Up 7. Where Everybody Knows Your Name 8. Those Were the Days 9. The Final Frontier 10. Best Friend

A. Ally McBeal B. Friends C. Mad About You D. The Courtship of Eddie's Father E. Cheers F. M*A*S*H G. The Jeffersons H. Laverne and Shirley I. All in the Family J. Mary Tyler Moore

Bonus question: hum the theme songs to both Bewitched and I Dream of Jeannie, and identify which is which. 

Answers: 1-F, 2-J, 3-H, 4-B, 5-A, 6-G, 7-E, 8-I, 9-C, 10-D. 

Give yourself two points for each match; add 5 more points for each one you can sing; bonus question: 15 points total. Score: less than 5 — you have led a sad, sheltered life (or are under 20 years old); 5-30 — you are reasonably well versed; 30-50 — you are a theme song aficionado; more than 50 — you have led a sad, sheltered life and need to get out more. 

As you can see, I literally have theme songs on the brain, so I've decided I should get one for myself. Imagine my excitement when I found the "What's Your Theme Song Quiz" on blogthings.com. All I had to do was answer a few questions and, voilà, it would generate my ideal theme song. Here are my results:

Your Theme Song is Beautiful Day by U2

"Sky falls, you feel like It's a beautiful day Don't let it get away" You see the beauty in life, especially in ordinary everyday moments. And if you're feeling down, even that seems a little beautiful too.

=

Um, no. Thanks anyway. Nothing personal, Bono, but I'm more of a Van Morrison kind of girl. In fact, I've always secretly considered "Caravan" my de facto theme song. Upon further reflection, however, I realize that a theme song is different than a favorite song and more than just a jingle. By definition, it is a melody used to identify a performer, a play or movie. By implication, it is a powerful sensory indicator connecting a particular song to something tangible and specific. Finding the right one for me is going to take some serious effort.

I started by thinking of "name" songs (no, not The Name Game song — songs with my name in them). I don't answer to diminutives, so that automatically eliminates many promising possibilities, including Susie-Q, Runaround Sue, Boy Name Sue (um?), Wake Up, Little Suzie, and Satisfy Suzie. While some of these are great songs, they just won't do.

When we move onto "Susan" songs, we're much more limited: 

• The Buckingham's Susan:  "Susan, looks like I'm loosin', I'm loosin' my mind, wastin' my time … Susan, do you have to be confusin' …"  Sure, it's a catchy tune, but the rhymes are weak and juvenile; plus, I've never been crazy about that weird instrumental/traffic noise interlude.

• Whitney Houston's My Name is Not Susan — but, of course, it is, so that won't work.

• Al Jarreau's Susan's Song — Beautiful, angsty, but really all about Al, not Susan: "Susan, do you mind, sometimes I'm restless, rolling on the floor in pain and woe. After all the precious gifts you will gladly give to me, girl, I may blindly lock and bolt the door."
  

So, here am I, lamenting my lack of a theme song, when all of a sudden I get a Google Alert about "Two Kinds of People" and discover that my blog has it's very own theme song courtesy of Little Anthony and the Imperials. Little A et al never hit the charts with Two People in the World, and I'm not sure it's what I would have chosen, but how can you turn down a perfectly-good, ready-made theme song? I particularly like the a cappella version:

I guess I'll use Two People in the World as a leitmotif while the search for my personal theme song continues. Click here to tell us your theme song and why it works for you.  

On a final note (with a bit of shameless self-promotion), I've been writing around on the Web recently, with a couple of guest posts on Wee Windy City, and two new posts on the Chicago Moms Blog, including one on our lackluster summer and one on the group's Birthday Topic Day. Stop by if you have a chance. I've revamped this blog's sidebar to include 2KoP on the Web for easy linking. 

The Best Words

 There are two kinds of people in the world: those who write poetry and those who don't.

Forgive my boast, but I am a great business writer. I can whip up a newsletter that will make you weep. I'm working hard on my creative writing, as well, learning everything I can and then revising, revising, revising … But, I'm no poet.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge defined prose as words in their best order, and poetry as the best words in the best order. I like this definition. 

I admit to being a little intimidated by poetry. I used to feel that I was missing the point. Recently, I have learned to take poetry as it comes — ponder it, enjoy it (or not) and accept it for what it means to me.

My favorite poet is Van Morrison (OK, songwriter, but now you're just picking nits):

We were born before the wind

Also younger than the sun

Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic

Hark, now hear the sailors cry

Smell the sea and feel the sky

Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic

I'm also a big Ogden Nash fan — you know, the poet who penned these seven immortal words:

Candy is dandy

But liquor is quicker.

Granted, it does sound a bit like a jingle for the Distilled Spirits Council of the United States (discus.org), but you can't deny that this little ditty conveys a beautiful truth with a stunning economy of language.

My friend Alice George is a real, live poet. And it turns out that real, live poets are even better than the famous dead kind because, in addition to enriching us with their own best words in their best order, they can teach and inspire the poetry in others. Such was the case for the first-through-fifth graders (including two of my own) who were lucky enough to have Alice as artist in residence at our elementary school this spring.

At one of the culminating events of the residency, Alice led an open mic poetry night at an awesome new(ish) performance/learning venue in Evanston called Boocoo. I was bitter with envy both exhilarated and humbled by the poetry created and performed by these children, who seem able to reach deep into their souls to describe the world with an exactitude and lyricism that eludes my poetry. (Be excited, OCWW members — Alice is on the docket for next semester.)

On past poetry nights, Alice has invited grownups to participate, but this night was just for the children. Since I have never been accused of being a grownup, I decided to share my poem anyway:

The Tantrum

Just a few missed warning signs
Before the blast
The fierce flash of light
The sonic boom.

The toxic fallout of the mushroom cloud
Envelops everything in sight.
No one is safe.

Soft tissue mottles over
Writhing muscles
Twisting and contorting the familiar
Into something unrecognizable.

Ugliness oozes from each pore
As rage pours from every visible orifice.
The genie is out of the bottle now.
Pandora is out of the box.
It’s too late for a cork or a levee or a bunker.

It’s in motion now
Careening violently
Sucking in every object and subject
In its vengeful path.

Just be still
Ride out the storm
Wait for the rain
Hope for the best.

A brief respite
Full of false hope.
All hearts pound as
The storm feeds on itself.

The banging of the shutters slows
To a more predictable beat
But the damage is done.
The family landscape is scarred again.

Finally, there is quiet
Not peace, just exhaustion.

Pulses steady
As survivors venture forth
Tiptoeing carefully on those eggshells
Lest the wrathful beast reawaken.

A final gust of tainted wind
Jarring but not dangerous
Shudders with uncomfortable regret:
"Sorry, guys, Mama is just having a bad day.

If, like my brother, you think my poem is cute but trite, slam me with a scathing couplet by clicking here; or give me an ode for effort. Better yet, try your hand at a poem of your own.

Photo credit: night poetry by kechambers via flickr.com.

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Chain of Fools

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who respond to chain letters and those who don't.

Until just recently, I had not participated in a chain letter since I was a kid. I can't remember the premise of that long-ago letter, but I do remember dutifully copying it in my best handwriting 10 times, getting my mom to stamp and mail the letters, and waiting. The anticipation of literally hundreds of responses was both delicious and excruciating. Back then, getting a letter in the mail was cause for celebration, and I couldn't wait. But I did wait. And wait. And the letters never came.

Disappointment doesn't begin to cover it. I felt devastated, abandoned and totally alone. Skip ahead about 35 years or so.

Email has reinvigorated the chain letter. I try to be judicious about what I pass along, but I'm sure I still forward too often. Imagine my surprise when I recently received an invitation via snail mail from my aunt to participate in a virtual book club. All I had to do was mail one book and 10 letters, and I would get hundreds of books in the mail. I took the bait. In sweet vindication of that childhood trauma, I have actually received two books. How cool is that?

Now it seems I have been snookered into a virtual version of this pyramid scheme. One of my favorite writers, Cindy Fey, tagged me to participate in something called "Six Random Things About Me."  Here goes:

Un: When I read a book, I read everything — the acknowledgements, the copyright, even the part that says "This book was typeset in in 11 point Goudy™ Old Style, originally created by famous type designer Frederic W. Goudy in 1915 …"

Deux: When I die, I want to be reincarnated as Van Morrison, specifically during the "Moondance" years, and more specifically singing "Caravan."  (Click here for a sound clip.

Trois: When I was a kid, we went camping a lot. In recent discussions with my family, I have realized that I have relatively few memories of those trips, as I am extremely allergic to mosquito bites and spent most of the time stoned on Benadryl.

Quatre: I frequently start deep, personal, often intimate conversations with complete strangers in elevators or in line at the grocery.

Cinq: I don't really speak French. In high school, we studied French cooking, listened to French rock and roll (a true oxymoron), and conjugated a few verbs. As a freshman in college, I was somehow scheduled into an intensive French class — two hours a day (starting at 8:00 a.m.), five days a week. The first words out of my Parisian-born teacher's mouth were: "Zees will be the last words you 'ear me speak en Anglais." I raised my hand and said: "I do not belong in zis class."

Six: Though I have a brilliant sense of direction, I have only the barest knowledge of world geography. This is not my fault. When I was a kid, the Soviet Union was still intact and our social studies books printed maps of the USSR all in black (or sometimes red – Communist Red) and labeled it as "behind the Iron Curtain." Since then, borders have moved, whole countries and cities have been renamed (is it Bombay or Mumbai?) and I just can't keep up.

There you have my scintillating six. Here are the rules to this game, as plagiarized directly from Cindy's blog, followed by the six people I have tagged:

The Rules:

Link to the person who tagged you (i.e., me).

Post the rules on your blog.

Write six random things about yourself in a blog post.

Tag six people.

Let each person know they've been tagged by leaving a comment on one of their recent posts.

Let the tagger know when your entry is posted.

My taggees:

Becky (my Becky, not Cindy's Becky)

Critique group buddy Angela Allyn at Domestic Blitz

Ardis at Hilltop: The View from Here and Now (another wonderful writer)

Writer and friend Sue Roupp at rouppgroupink

Another writer acquaintance, Beverly Patt, who's first book is due out from Bloomingtree Press this year. 

Web goddess and OCWW member Helen Gallagher at Release Your Writing.

You all have my sincerest apologies. Feel free to comment by clicking here or email me at 2KoPeople@gmail.com.

Photo credit: Click via MorgueFile.com.

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