Don’t cry out loud

I’m surrounded by things in boxes. If it’s not in a box now, then it’ll be in a box soon, or else in a trash bag, or in the trunk of my car, or on the shelves of the PTA Thrift Store. Yesterday I went through a box which contained such things as my elementary school diploma, the hospital identification band placed on my wrist the day I was born, and a receipt for the first box of condoms I purchased as a teenager. There were love letters to and from my first girlfriend. A photo of me passed out in a hotel bed in Cancún. A seatback I stole for a souvenir that time I saw The Who in concert in 1989. Larry Bird’s autograph. Blue Baby–my first doll, stained with drool and urine and god knows what else. The Most Valuable Player Award for soccer that I won in 1981. Letters from Grandma.

Some things should stay in boxes, put away but within reach. Other things should never have been saved in the first place, or else should have been let go of a long, long time ago.

According to my diploma, handmade for me by R. Seidner, I graduated from “speech” on February 9, 1977. Up until then I refered to myself formally as “Wobewt” instead of Robert. But big boys mustn’t talk like a baby, so I did what I had to do. Furthermore, according to Mrs. McCann’s 1976 kindergarten progress report, “Bobby plays and works well with others, follows directions, observes rules, accepts suggestions readily, and participates willingly in art and music activities.”

Well done, Bobby. Well done.

Thirty-five years later and I’m still a good boy. So well behaved. Most of the time. At the very least I’m still participating willingly in art and music activities:

Don’t cry out loud
I didn’t want to cause an incident
I could’ve let it go in two minutes
I just needed time and privacy
With nobody staring down at me
I guess she couldn’t tell how much it meant
A tiny little thing I’d soon forget
But feelings never bend to blind logic
And you never know what words might stick

She said: “Don’t cry out loud.”

I’m thinking maybe I should probably go
If there’s nothing else I need to know
I’m thinking that we both could use some sleep
We can only take it in so deep
I’ll just step into the other room
Gather up my things and head out soon
I just need to let a few things go
Before I lock the door and hit the road

You said: “Don’t cry out loud.”

4 Replies to “Don’t cry out loud”

  1. Where are you heading to now? Did i miss this info or are you withholding it as a secret?
    Do tell!! (and safe travels)

    1. Heading from North Carolina to New Mexico in a few weeks (my wife scored a tenure-track faculty position), so it’s a new beginning on many levels. I just quit my job, so now all I have to do is pack, move across the country, and then figure out what to do with the rest of my life! Should be interesting…

  2. Here I am sitting and listening to your song and crying! And I don’t know why! I can still see that shy little boy going off to kindergarten and hearing him pronouncing all his r’s as w’s! Oh where in the hell have all the years gone!

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