Those are my two sons, AKA Unorganized Hancock, performing Oh Boy!, a song made famous by Buddy Holly and the Crickets. That was back in the 1950s when the world was still spinning on its axis instead of rolling down the galaxy's gutter.
Stars appear and shadows are falling
You can hear my heart a-calling
A little bit a-lovin' makes everything right
I'm gonna see my baby tonight
It's trite. Conventional romantic love is a trite topic. It's been covered. The only way to bring something new to the table is to bring something worse. I refuse to bring something worse to the table, and you can't make me, and you can't make my kids do it, either.
I hope they get their chance to fall in love and be possessed of the idiot excitement of simply seeing their beloved. I want them to be married and have children and raise them up and get a bad back from piggybacks. I want them to watch their geraniums wilting in their windowboxes. I want them to trip over a roller skate in the walk. I want the paint to peel on their rancher. I want them to roll down the windows and go for a drive. I want them to sleep on the floor next to the crib because their infant has a cold. I want them to tend to a brown patch of grass in front of the house. I want them to name their many children with more care than the family dog.
I want their children to play Oh Boy! in a tent on the town's baseball field.
[Update: Many thanks to the wonderful Kathleen M. from Connecticut for her constant support of our sons' efforts via the PayPal tipjar. It is greatly appreciated]
[Update: Many thanks to Mark M. of Colorado for his generous support via the PayPal tipjar. It is very much appreciated]