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October 13, 2005

Actual household conversation last week

Scene: our front "bedroom," used as an office. Chris is surfing the web and playing music - Song for Adam, Jackson Browne - on the Mac. Becky, distracted, is grading her students' papers.

Chris: You know, I once had a dream that I played this song for Bill Stack's funeral. Then I woke up and told him, and he thought that was a great idea.
Becky: Yeah?
Chris: But then I didn't. I don't even know if he had a funeral.
Becky: Well, you didn't even know he'd died until a couple years later. It's not like you blew off a commitment or something.
Chris: Yeah, that's true. [Pause] I think I'd like Cançao Verdes Años played at my funeral.
Becky: You're going to have to leave that where I can find it then.
Chris: I'll probably forget.
Becky: You know what I want played at my funeral?
Chris: No. What?
Becky: Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay.

Posted by Chris Clarke at October 13, 2005 10:29 PM TrackBack URL for this entry:
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Comments

I think I love Becky.

Posted by: Nikki (aka Vixen) at October 14, 2005 03:50 AM
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Is she going to have a parade, too? I see a lucrative new future in funerary services here.

Posted by: SneakySnu at October 14, 2005 04:56 AM
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While getting a snack for the kids one day, my husband once told me that he wants "100% apple juice when properly reconstituted" put on his gravestone. If he doesn't change that directive, in writing, that's what he's going to get.

Posted by: eRobin at October 14, 2005 05:11 AM
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Now that's a dirge! Throw in some can-can dancers in red petticoats and have a party!

Posted by: Cowtown Pattie at October 14, 2005 07:04 AM
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I just can't stop laughing at that. Becky - mind if I appropriate your idea?

Posted by: Space Kitty at October 14, 2005 08:56 AM
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Do any of the New Orleans marching brass bands play Ta-Ra-Ra-Boom-De-Ay? Sounds like a good one for the joyous return from the burial grounds. I know Dirty Dozen plays The Flintstones with the Star Spangled Banner mixed in. Anyway, I'm sure Becky is a Wobbly at heart, and means the version as adapted by Joe Hill in the Little Red Songbook:

"I had a job once threshing wheat, worked sixteen hours with hands
and feet.
And when the moon was shining bright, they kept me working all the
night.
One moonlight night, I hate to tell, I "accidentally'' slipped and fell.
My pitchfork went right in between some cog wheels of that
thresh-machine.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way.
And wheels and bolts and hay,
Went flying every way.
That stingy rube said, "Well!
A thousand gone to hell.''
But I did sleep that night,
I needed it all right.

Next day that stingy rube did say, "I'll bring my eggs to town today;
You grease my wagon up, you mutt, and don't forget to screw the nut.''
I greased his wagon all right, but I plumb forgot to screw the nut,
And when he started on that trip, the wheel slipped off and broke
his hip.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
That rube was sure a sight,
And mad enough to fight;
His whiskers and his legs
Were full of scrambled eggs;
I told him, "That's too bad --
I'm feeling very sad.''

And then that farmer said, "You turk! I bet you are an I-Won't Work.''
He paid me off right there, By Gum! So I went home and told my chum.
Next day when threshing did commence, my chum was Johnny on the fence;
And 'pon my word, that awkward kid, he dropped his pitchfork, like I
did.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
It made a noise that way,
And part of that machine
Hit Reuben on the bean.
He cried, "Oh me, oh my;
I nearly lost my eye.''
My partner said, "You're right --
It's bedtime now, good night.''

But still that rube was pretty wise, these things did open up his eyes.
He said, "There must be something wrong; I think I work my men too
long.''
He cut the hours and raised the pay, gave ham and eggs for every day,
Now gets his men from union hall, and has no "accidents" at all.

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!
That rube is feeling gay;
He learned his lesson quick,
Just through a simple trick.
For fixing rotten jobs
And fixing greedy slobs,
This is the only way,
Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!"

Posted by: Fred Levitan at October 14, 2005 09:56 AM
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Interesting version, but, with Becky being a teacher and all, I was thinking she meant this one:

Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay
We had no school today
Our teacher passed away
She died of tooth decay

We threw her in the bay
She scared the fish away
And when we pulled her out
She smelled like sauerkraut!

Posted by: Carrie at October 14, 2005 10:10 AM
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I heard Jackson Browne's "For a Dancer" the morning after I learned some friends had been murdered. I thought I'd like someone to play that if it had been me. Its sad he's had occasion to write more than one of those songs. Of course, in high school I wanted "Dust in the Wind" played. How corny when I look at that now! Of course in this phase, I would want Sting's "Fragile" (the original, not the remix!)For someone who hasn't really worried about dying, I've have a lot of ideas on this over my life. Maybe when I'm 80 I'll want Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring like my mom did. Stick it in the file with the will. You could even make a mix CD to put in there. Every year aor so I'd probably want to update mine.

Posted by: susurra at October 14, 2005 11:43 AM
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