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From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea

In high school junior year (1992–please do not do the  math on my age), I had a class called Issues, which was History and English combined.  I know, it sounds strange and it was strange at the time.  Anyway, in that class there was a kid with a T-shirt on with a poem-type thing on the back.  I kept reading it and liked it, so I copied it down.  I then hung it on my bedroom wall for years and memorized it.  Here is the original sheet of paper it was written on.

Beautiful, unknown lyrics*

Beautiful, unknown lyrics*

For those whose browsers are picky about pictures, here is the text:

…and so we watch the sun come up
from the edge of the deep green sea
and she listens like her head’s on fire
like she wants to believe in me
so I try
put your hands in the sky
surrender
remember
we’ll be here forever
and we’ll never say goodbye. . .*

For years, these were just words I copied off a guy’s T-shirt. There was a Bon Jovi song that had similar lyrics, but these were clearly not from that song. I figured I would never find out where it came from, and I was kind of OK with that.

When I got sick of the crusty yellowing notebook paper on my wall, I decided to make a plaque with the words on it. (I’m just a lil bit crafty;) I wrote all the lettering with a toothpick dipped in black paint. I was pretty proud of myself.

Wooden plaque I made to replace the notebook paper*

Wooden plaque I made to replace the notebook paper*

Then one day at work (October 25, 2000 to be exact), my green-haired friend sent me an email with a Mad Libs type story, using the word “GREEN” and the phrase “THE DEEP DARK SEA” in it. So I typed up my “and so I watch the sun come up…” words to her and hit send.

GHF: whoah that was weird!!!!! you have totally stunned me into silence…. how did you know?

ME: know what?
I got that off some guy’s shirt in high school
I have no idea what it is from–do you?
I memorized it, and I painted it on a wooden plaque:)

GHF: it’s a cure song silly i think you know more than you say

ME: [AM] wore a cure shirt in 92?
I wouldn’t have thought he was into that.
Yah! My mystery is solved:)

GHF: That’s me and [S]’s favorite song (lyric-wise) called…. “from the edge of the deep green sea” It’s the song that brought us together. he he

ME: That is just too freaky–is that why that one site is called “deep green sea” whoa, it is all falling together:)

GHF: YES!!!!! I KNOW YOU REPEATED THAT LINE TO ME AND I TOTALLY FLIPPED!

Then the email degenerates into me craving Butterfingers. But, you get the idea. It was a MOMENTOUS moment in my life.

My green-haired friend and my crazy friend (not crazy in the head, just crazy fun-wise) both were in love with the Cure, especially at this time in history. They tried to convert me. I was busy listening to Kid Rock’s Devil Without A Cause album daily. While I do own the song “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” by the Cure now, the only Cure song I actually like is “A Night Like This”, performed by Professional Murder Music (see YouTube video below for a taste).

http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL-xTfUi_q3IWvsnVDYakoqHVgqQXYd-P2
* Song lyrics from “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” by The Cure (Bamonte, Gallup, Smith, Thompson, Williams).

This was a quotation mystery that it only took me eight years to solve.  For a quote that I am still trying to find the source of, come back to read Thursday’s blog.

MUTILATION!

Now, to fully appreciate the jingle I wrote below, you need to be familiar with the 1980’s commercial for the Milton Bradley/Hasbro board game Operation* that inspired my parody.

When you read the words below, be sure to sing them to the musical score in the commercial.

Enjoy!

MUTILATION!

You’re the doctor, got the patient on the run

MUTILATION!

Oh joy, won’t this be fun!

MUTILATION!

Cut off all the fingers but ya better leave the thumbs

MUTILATION!

The patient doesn’t necessarily have to be numb

MUTILATION!

You’ll lose your lunch, heave-up every crumb

MUTILATION!

If you check into this hospital, you are pretty dumb

MUTILATION!

(See what happens to idle minds of high school students when left unattended in a computer lab?)

* I am in no way affiliated with Milton Bradley or Hasbro. or any actual hospital or medical school.

A Picture of Contrasts

I love this picture. Always have.

Just a couple of youngin’s walking down the street, up to no good.

This picture used to be on my bulletin board. Now it is in one of my special picture albums that does not conform to chronological order, as the rest of them do.

This is a picture of my asbestos friend and I walking down the street in front of my house while we were in high school. My mom shot it out our front door. My asbestos friend and I were probably heading from the small village grocery store back to her house. (I think she still stops at that store at least once a day, every day. I don’t know what she did when she lived 2,000 miles away in Arizona.)

To me, this has always been a picture of contrasts.

First of all, there is snow, but also puddles.

I am wearing a scarf, but no winter coat.

We are not children, but not yet adults.

We look like we are deeply engaged in conversation, when we were probably talking about nothing.

That isn’t true.  We were probably talking about boys.

I love this picture.  I love the purple boots I am wearing in the picture.

I still own that cream-colored hoodie and that scarf (I knew the hoodie was that old, but not the scarf.).  That hoodie can be found in the lower left of a picture in my post from April of 2012 called You Give Hoodies A Bad Name (https://imnotstalkingyou.com/2012/04/01/you-give-hoodies-a-bad-name/)

I look like I am almost skipping, probably just happy that someone stopped by and I got to leave the house for five minutes. At that time in my life, my friends were in sports, band, modeling, had boyfriends, etc. Me, well, I had television. An active imagination. Lots of markers to draw with. Ya, that was about it. My existence was pretty dull at that point.

But I don’t even mind that my mom secretly captured all that. It makes me yearn for more innocent days (but not boring days. Or high school. Or being sad, lonely, depressed, unloved, suicidal.)…ok, scratch “innocent days”.

It makes me yearn for my friend’s kid-free day, when we go roaming about as we please, willy-nilly, with no one to feed or take care of but ourselves.

Maybe what I see most in the picture is freedom. Freedom from school. Freedom from winter. From winter coats. From snow. Freedom to just be.

A Tribute To Someone I Hardly Knew

When I think of Schindler’s List, I always think of a girl I went to school with named Alicia Foote.

More on that in a minute.

I met Alicia Foote in Writer’s Workshop in high school. [Then I might have thought of her as just Alicia, but now I always hear her full name in my head.] Writer’s Workshop was a wonderful class that anyone could take, from freshmen to seniors. And it was taught by one of my favorite teachers, who I sometimes believed to resemble a Panda. I thought I had him wrapped around my finger. I am sure he was totally on to me.

The first ten minutes or so of class, we were to do a free-write (wait, isn’t that what THIS VERY BLOG is? I give myself an “A”:P). The rest of the class, you could write stories, poems, etc. My asbestos friend and I ate it up. My other friend and I would eat blue raspberry blow-pops in class and turn our tongues blue.

Being the Co-Editor of the school newspaper, I spent a lot of time working on the newspaper during class. But I also found time to flirt (badly) with freshmen boys. And I became friends with a couple of freshmen girls who were in the class. One of whom was Alicia Foote. She was short with long blond hair and the biggest smile. From how I knew her, she was one of the few truly nice people I have ever known. The phrase “heart of gold” comes to mind. In any century, it is hard to find a high school student you could say that about.

So, through the year, I would talk to her in class, she wrote a little for the newspaper, and I believe I even sat with her at lunch sometimes. So, by the end of the year, when our school took five school buses of students to go see Schindler’s List in Toledo, she was sort of my friend. The seniors all claimed one bus. On the way home, after the movie and lunch, extra kids piled on to the senior bus. After all, seniors are so cool. The bus was totally overfilled. I ended up riding home on Alicia Foote’s lap. Never mind that I was three years older than her and probably 20lbs heavier, at least. She should have been on my lap, but somehow it didn’t work out that way. I still think of her like that on the bus that day.

I think the last time I saw her was when she hugged me at my graduation and my mom snapped a picture.

Alicia & I together on the occassion of my high school graduation.

Alicia & I together on the occassion of my high school graduation.

I believe she graduated in 1997. She is totally the type of person I would look up on Facebook to be friends with today. But I can’t. She died in a car accident a year or two after her graduation. She had a baby, who survived because of it’s car seat. And who will never know what a great person it’s mom was.

And yes, I cried writing this. Writing about a girl I barely knew. Who has been dead for years and probably forgotten about by half her own classmates. But I think I cry more for the loss of the kind of person I envisioned she could have grown up to be. A good, kind person. The world needs more people like that.

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Fried Squirrel, anyone?

Last week we covered how I wrote (a lot!) in high school. I could not resist sharing a piece or two here for your enjoyment. These two particular poems are about a day that the power went out at school because a squirrel got caught in the transformer (it happened A LOT more often than you might think). They are meant to be read like a Dr. Seuss book. I personally think the second is better than the first, but that is just me. Bear in mind that when I read the second poem to my English teacher Mr. Clark, he just shook his head. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank Mr. Clark for teaching me that “a lot” are two words and not one:) Now, without further ado:

The Ballad of the Fried Squirrel
(A.K.A.-The day the lights went out in Blissfield)

4/14/94
In the little old town that had much Bliss
Was a little squirrel who liked to growl & hiss
This mean old squirrel was like no other
He was big & tough & vowed not to be electrocuted–
like his mother.
All the other bushytails in the town were wusses
kept gettin’ electrocuted by running on transformers–
escaping from …cats
Now this mean old squirrel was named Snicker-doodle
And one fateful day he got chased by a poodle
Cornered, that squirrel did done get
And that poodle would not him down let
So, with one giant last leap went Snicker
With no regard for what those volts would do to his ticker
But in the air, as he fell to death & that massive shock,
His fate sealed with a big pad lock,
He chirped in a low squirrel hiss
“Don’t let the kids go home”–that was his dying wish
And, of course, Principal Dave heard it exactly
And last wishes must always be followed promptly
So the town was left without power
For darn near two hours
And all the good little students moaned & groaned
“We just want to go home!”
And so like always, the power came back on
But the legend of that miserable squirrel lives on.

The Legend Lives On
4/14/94
Now the children in that town of Bliss
Where still talking the day after about that
squirrel’s last hiss
That legendary squirrel called Snicker-doodle
That was found by the lunch ladies to taste
very good with noodles
Them hairnets found, that snicker ground
Made a nice little edible burrito meat mound
Now, I’ve got to say how sad I was for those poor
unsuspecting kids
Not even guessing what was about
to stick to their ribs
Squirrel is quite prevelant in the month of May
But fried Snicker-doodle is not approved by the USDA
When the students walked into the lunchroom
They all wanted to know what smelled like an old broom
“Nothing but the usual” the ladies replied back
And the kids dug in, thinking it was just the usual…
bad food
But soon them youngins were writhing in their seats
Darn, done poisoned by that evil rancid meat
Now, as you might guess, the chunks blew for days
Causing a stenchy, food-poisoning haze
There were long, heaving lines for the johns
As the legend of that miserable squirrel lives on

Yes, I know. They are genius. Maybe someday soon I will share my song “mutilation” with you:)

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