I dreamt I was walking
On a cloudy winter’s day
The sky wrapped in pascal
The trees coated with paint
The wind blew briskly, glimpsing my coat
Guiding my steps, in a fantasy world
Made of beauty and clay
I was sad, but touched.
Strong but all alone.
And then I saw you, and only you
And your smile
And your hair
And your eyes
And then I saw nothing else, but the two of us
Until I woke up.
… my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. Like those thoughts of the troubling variety that prevents one from sleep, those overwhelming and overarching words which my father once told me seem to prevent my mind from focusing on other desires. Not necessarily due to my father’s nature: in-fact, my father was a kindly man, even if often far from home or away on business. Nor necessarily due to the harshness of my father’s message: if anything, his words were not stern by soft and kind.
But, after all, I suppose that sort of language is the type which really does frighten. And so it has been, for fifteen years, my father’s simple advice has constantly troubled my young and growing mind:
“Son, the person who thinks too little, usually talks too much.”
At first, when I listened to my father’s advice, I felt little connection and understanding. “But, you talk a lot Dad!” I claimed, which only caused the both of us to laugh. When Dad passed away, though, those once-pleasant memories – stored out of love and joy – flooded back to me and reminded me of his pounding words.
My first understanding of what he exactly meant began when I was twenty-two. I was in college, and had just finished mourning the loss of my dad. I was ready to move on with my life, albeit with some restraint.
Now, it just so happened, a particular evening approaching the dawn of Summer, that I first began to see his message clearly. I was relaxing with a group of starving artists I use to hang out with. To say the least, most of us were flat broke. We were too proud to admit it, and not desperate enough to ask our parents for help. That didn’t stop us from mustering up paintings and writings, though, and selling them dirt cheap on the streets. “Three-fiddy for this marvelous modernist masterpiece!” James, our “ringleader” of sorts, use to pan for his cubism works. “Read the story of a poor girl gone poltish-an!” Naturally, whatever money we did scrape up went to the most important needs of the time – dinners, drinks, and clubs.
As it would be, on a humid and musky evening in late May, me and the boys were venturing to one of our favorite destinations: The Gilded Age. A rather elitist hangout for the artistic sort, we ventured inside to make the usual rounds and talk. We were pretty known there – known as the “rat pack.” “The bunkos.” “The kids.” That didn’t matter to us much though: we were known and popular. And any publicity is good publicity. That’s what counts.
And so, as it would be, the boys were relaxing for the night as James was attempting to hit on our waitress. As most often with leaders, James suffered from a sort of superiority complex. So, naturally, his macho charisma was never at fault for his shortcomings.
“Did ya see that?” James motioned to us, piercing us with his hazel eyes. “Nothing but tramps in this town. I swear.”
“Yeah, what an idiot,” we complied, soothing our unhappy friend. That night, though, our words of calmness wouldn’t appease the wild beast.
“It’s not just her though,” he moaned, putting his face in his right palm. “It has to be something with the girls here. Maybe they don’t like Jewish guys or somethin’.”
“Well, that last one you made a pass on wasn’t single…” I quipped, getting a few nervous chuckles from the pack. Even James laughed too. His laugh was different though, much more defensive and frightened.
He fired back. “Doesn’t stop me,” he joked, scoring another round of chuckles and laughs. “You’re not clean yourself either, Jer.”
Now it was becoming personal. “Well, at least I had the good decency to…”
“To cut it off? A sin’s a sin, no matter how hard it is.” James’s smile was gone, his eyes hard and mouth struggling to keep up a smile.
I backed down. “I guess you’re right. So, what are-”
“We doing tonight, yea. I was thinking we could start selling more stuff afterwards, maybe go to the park and relax or something,” James returned back. As our de facto leader, we followed what James wanted to do. That was the group, I suppose.
“I’m up for selling. I got some new work I wanna show off,” Jess, one of my closer comrades, chimed in.
“Oh, I’d love to see too,” Returned James.
“I figured just as much, you always love to see our work!”
An embarrassed laugh escaped. “Well, I simply adore to see you guys’ work. I feel it’s nothing like the sort of stuff out there right now. That’s why it sells.”
“Aw, you don’t have to say that,” I replied. I was touched.
“I mean it. I’ve seen a lot around here, but nothing like the stuff we put out guys. Like, back in..”
As we continued to down our drinks, the night grew older as our glasses grew emptier. We threw around a lot of different topics that night – Clinton, Saturday Night Live, Kurt Cobain, and even a hint of what we would do after college. Most of us were too tired to speak though, but James kept the conversations going.
“I think very much so that, after college, I’ll use my family connections to get a nice job somewhere in the film industry,” our leader commented. “You know, my father worked with Spielberg once. He really liked my art.”
Murmurs of agreement and discussion sprung forth, but our drinks mostly did the talking.
“And how about that Clinton, huh? I’m sure he’ll easily get thrown out of office. Can you imagine, doing that with someone?”
“What did he do?” I asked, slightly out of the news.
“Oh. My God. You haven’t heard? It was awful, he…”
Although James’s sharp opinions and words fluttered into my mind, they quickly left the way they came. Suddenly, my father’s warnings came back into my mind.
‘Son, the person who thinks too little, usually talks too much.’
“… and so all of the news stations are talking about it, even the newspapers. SNL even did a funny sketch the other day, did you catch it?” His words came back to me, but with less substance and worth. “They were absolutely hilarious, you should check it out.”
“I, I think I better go,” I whispered quietly. “I think those drinks ran right through me.”
As I walked away, my time paid for and all, James asked me one last question.
“You on for tomorrow?”
I never answered, but just walked away.
Starting the 2011-2012 school year, Green Brook High School will be hosting green-efficient electrically-free classes as part of the school system’s “Gone Green” initiative.
GBHS’s 100% electrically-free program, dubbed “Project Lights Out,” will drastically impact the classroom environment. Planned changes, recently passed by the Green Brook Board of Education, will include: removing iPods, cell phones, and other electronics from the learning environment; limiting computer and laptop usage to “bare minimum” uses; removing A/C units and other forms of climate control; and replacing fluorescent lighting with candles and chandeliers.
The “Going Green” initiative, the brainchild of the Green Brook Board of Ed., was successfully implemented this past school year in-response to the high carbon footprint the high school left. The program has been hailed a “success” from faculty and students alike, which has included online grading and test-taking, and “No Idling” automobile policies on school grounds.
“We will leave our mark on the environment, for better or for worse,” Board of Ed chairman Jonathan Genz commented. “We need to act now to make sure we preserve our environment, or our children may face the consequences.”
Many students and faculty also agree with the Board of Ed’s approach, which has been reinforced through classroom activities and school “assemblies.”
“Global Warming is bad,” one 9th grade student, Melissa Angelina, told reporters. “It hurts the environment and causes stuff like Katrina.”
Melanie Millano, a 10th grade Science teacher, also agrees. “It’s important that the students understand the impact they have on the environment now. With programs like Project Lights Out – which the Science department has been urging for years – students can finally understand the stakes they face when they gamble with the environment through high carbon footprints.”
Many parents, however, have questioned the application of the Lights Out Project, which they have labeled “poorly organized,” “mindnumbingly frustrating,” and “exceptionally moronic.”
“We appreciate these criticisms and comments,” Principal MiBelano stated when asked for comment. “They help us understand how we can improve our project and better connect with our Parent-Teacher Organization.” A strong supporter of the Gone Green movement himself, Prinicipal MiBelano insists the positive environment which “doing without” can create for the local environment. “We’re all tightening our belts a bit when it comes to what we use in the school. I had to sacrifice using Kleenex tissues in my own office and the classrooms for the more environmentally-efficient ‘paper towels.’ But, what we find is, when we begin to cut down our carbon footprint, we not just positively impact the environment, but also find newer changes easier to come across.”
Over the summer, Project Lights Out will begin implementation through the removal and “Green” recycling of fluorescent lights for later use and packaging.
Taken like a baby at morn.
Jess was a man to scorn.
He did to others as he pleased,
Cause he neither owned a squeeze,
Nor a mother to aid his needs.
Still, we locked him up with forlorn.
His spree of crime began at 10.
When he stole Old Ben’s hen.
He cooked ‘n’ ate the poor ol’ fowl,
And did it with a scowl.
And we knew Jess was trouble then.
“Lock him up, throw away the key.”
Cried the Marshall, John Green
But deep down Ol’ Jess knew for sure,
Despite the Sheriff’s warn
These steel bar wouldn’t hold Jess down.
Thunder Road by Bruce Springsteen
The screen door slams, Mary’s dress waves
Like a vision she dances across the porch as the radio plays
Roy Orbison singing for the lonely
Hey that’s me and I want you only
Don’t turn me home again
I just can’t face myself alone again
Don’t run back inside, darling you know just what I’m here for
So you’re scared and you’re thinking that maybe we ain’t that young anymore
Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night
You ain’t a beauty, but hey you’re alright
Oh and that’s alright with me
You can hide ‘neath your covers and study your pain
Make crosses from your lovers, throw roses in the rain
Waste your summer praying in vain for a saviour to rise from these streets
Well now I’m no hero, that’s understood
All the redemption I can offer, girl, is beneath this dirty hood
With a chance to make it good somehow
Hey what else can we do now
Except roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair
Well the night’s bustin’ open, these two lanes will take us anywhere
We got one last chance to make it real
To trade in these wings on some wheels
Climb in back, heaven’s waiting down on the tracks
Oh oh come take my hand
Riding out tonight to case the promised land
Oh oh oh oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road, oh Thunder Road
Lying out there like a killer in the sun
Hey I know it’s late, we can make it if we run
Oh oh oh oh Thunder Road, sit tight, take hold, Thunder Road
Well I got this guitar and I learned how to make it talk
And my car’s out back if you’re ready to take that long walk
From your front porch to my front seat
The door’s open but the ride it ain’t free
And I know you’re lonely for words that I ain’t spoken
Tonight we’ll be free, all the promises will be broken
There were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away
They haunt this dusty beach road in the skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets
They scream your name at night in the street
Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet
And in the lonely cool before dawn
You hear their engines roaring on
But when you get to the porch they’re gone on the wind, so Mary climb in
It’s a town full of losers, I’m pulling out of here to win
Undeniably, Bruce Springsteen’s rock ballad Thunder Road is one of my favorite songs. Springsteen’s hit, a very emotional piece in and of itself, is about two young teenagers letting go of their hometown and leaving their past for a brighter, American tomorrow. Although I love Thunder Road for a variety of reasons, the humble and simple lyrics Springsteen expresses is really what hits me deeply. Throughout the 1970s single, Springsteen speaks as a young teenager would: connecting loneliness to Roy Orbison, heaven as a highway, and redemption as romance and escape. Unlike practically any other rock or pop song – past or present – Springsteen conveys the sort of emotions and feelings most teenagers feel throughout Thunder Road: love is not mystical and magical, but rather a warm embrace and escape from a somewhat frightening world. Companionship can open the opportunity for a better tomorrow, Springsteen says: not necessarily improve a teen’s surroundings. Furthermore, Springsteen’s message of escapism and “pulling out” of the troubles of the teenage years strikes deeply with me: an aspect of escape which many teenagers feel, and respectfully remedy in good or bad ways. Ultimately, Thunder Road proves to be one of my favorite songs due to Springsteen’s focus on teenage sadness, drama, and disillusionment.
Flowing from the streams
Rushing past the grassy fields
A new soothing sound
Not the walk of winter’s dawn
But Persephone’s rebirth
Gentle giants wake
Leaves rustle in the dawn’s grass
Spring has come again
One day I want to go to the moon
In a flying metal room
For a little while above Earth I would loom
Then to the moon I would zoom
And as my ship would land with a boom
I would warn the moonmen of their doom.
He’s so lazy
It’s driving me crazy
