turmoil in the head

As we get ready for what could be a very bizarre and interesting Tuesday (and hopefully not Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, etc.) something struck me tonight.  I was reading to my young son as is our tradition now.  I read to the son, my wife reads to the daughter, everyone is happy.  Lately he has picked three books, who’s there on halloween, chugga chugga choo choo, and a collection of mother goose rhymes.  The last book is the one that trips me up.  Anyone who grew up through the 80’s and early 90’s remembers a certain Andrew Dice Clay.  He of the dirty nursery rhymes.  And now how many of us have become parents and have something other than “jack fell down and broke his crown” appearing at he end of jack and jill.  What about little miss muffet?  What happened with the spider?  Hickory Dickory Dock?  I’m not even going to continue with that one.  Thankfully, old mother hubbard does not make an appearance in this book. 

I can thank Mr. Clay for not introducing a bad rhyme to the peanut and railroad track rhyme which is my son’s favorite.  Toot, toot, peanut butter.  Nothing screws that one up.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not reading them wrong, but you know as well as I do my head isn’t exactly always thinking “the mouse ran up the clock” after all.  Or maybe it is just me.  I’ve mentioned before (at least I mentioned somewhere) that I have a penchant for recalling rhythmic lyrics.  Why can I still do the song of hiawatha, or stopping by the woods on a snowy evening, or the village smithy, barefoot boy anyone?  I don’t recall haiku in that same way.  Perhaps I should be thankful for that.


the day will soon come

when the election is done

and life will resume


Call me hopeful if you will.


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