If I work too hard at looking forward to my 50th Birthday, I’ll probably have a crash-and-burn depression like when I turned 40. I’ll try to let what comes, come, but I am SO EXCITED! And for all of you, too, my friends spread out all over the country, the world. Let us be full of joy for our 50ths. I know some of you are having your day this very month.
I’ve been thinking about this one for a few days now. I knew it when I was 7 years old. I believed the story my friend told me about the song being about her father, whose name was, of course, Frank Mills.
What a gull-a-bull. What a nin-cow-poop. What a maroon.
By high school, my friends and I learned the lyrics, again, by heart and sang it and sang it at the top of our lungs. The Milos Forman movie came out and I saw it at least twice in the theater.
In posting this, please know you are being spared my hammy self singing it for you on my mac.
Just him
So many more good songs. I am sure they’ll show up on my blog throughout the year. It all still feels so pertinent to me, being a kid in the consciousness-raising ’60s. The hippies, the environment, TV, Viet Nam, Walter Cronkite. Oh yeah.
twinklysparkles 