Thursday, September 14, 2017

not too many know this about me

this is todays prompt and i had to share this one.

i don't know why or how it started.  but, with six kids between us i had to make life a little more, um... light-hearted.

and, for years and years this went on.

hasn't happened in a while, since the kids moved out i suppose...

but, it never failed.

whenever someone asked for a pickle, or mentioned the word

i would start singing the pickle song  (aka the motorcycle song) by arlo guthrie.

just the chorus.

and, badly.

cause to REALLY sing the pickle song, you must sing it badly.

I don't want a pickle Just want to ride on my motorsickle And I don't want a tickle Just want to ride on my motorsickle
And I don't want to die just want to ride on my motorcy...cle

it became a thing.  the kids knew it.  and, either they loved it, or they hated it, or they loved and hated it, or they loved TO hate it.  but, it was my thing with them, and *i* loved it.  i loved being silly with them in this specific way, a consistent way for them to interact with me and me with them.

i brought my nephew into the tradition, as he was a regular at the house at that time, and i swear he didn't think i could carry a tune.

he may have been surprised to hear a few years later that i had joined a singing group (short lived, but fun and scary).  i remember him talking to hubby about my singing, and hubby trying to explain that i can sing, it's just that song is traditionally sung that way.

about a month ago, my sweet man texted me saying that he was at lunch with a client, who asked mark if mark wanted a pickle and then launched into the song.  mark said he HAD to tell me immediately.  i had to ask if he sang it badly, to which he replied "of course!  how else would one sing it"

an appropriate photo for this story, i think.
and, no, i wasn't intending to ride, 
just sitting on sons motorcy...cle

-this is no disrespect to mr. guthrie.  i adore his songs and his way of story telling.  i grew up listening to him, and he holds a tender spot in my heart and soul

until later,