Saturday, May 13, 2006
Listen
First thing I remember knowin'
Was my therapist Dr. Cohen
Who told me I was gifted deep inside
So I grew up filled with hope,
Writing songs and smoking dope,
And no one to change my mind but Mama tried.
The one and only rebel child,
A bohemian, self-styled,
Black T-shirts and jeans were all I wore.
I drank beer and I drank pinas
And I thought I was a genius
Till Mama couldn't stand me anymore.
And I turned 21 in grad school
Working toward my MFA
No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried.
Mama told me to shape up
But her pleading I denied,
That leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried.
Dear old Daddy, rest his soul,
Had a mission and a goal
And Mama brought me up to be like him.
He set a good example,
But I was born to ramble,
And to follow every impulse, every whim.
And I turned 31 in theater,
An avant-garde ensemble,
And working as a waiter every night, on the side.
Mama begged me to go straight
But I had to deviate,
That leaves only me to blame, cause Mama tried.
Mama sent me a letter,
"Son, I think that you better
Find something to do and get a grip."
So I set out to find
A job, then changed my mind,
And sold my car and went off on a trip.
And I turned 41 in Santa Fe,
Making earthen pots,
I told her I had sold some but I lied, yes, I lied..
I was selling picture postcards
And I was dissatisfied,
But that was all my fault, cause Mama tried.
I sold cars in Delaware,
I taught dancing in Eau Claire,
Now I'm working on a novel and a play.
And both have been rejected,
Which is just what I expected
Cause they're radical and have so much to say.
Now I'm 51 and hanging round
And doing this and that
And what I want to be I can't decide, can't decide.
I might go into teaching
Or I might do something else
And Mama she's quit trying since she died.
I might rewrite my play
Or I could go to L.A.
But Mama she lost interest when she died.
© Garrison Keillor 2002
