Cantaloupe Hoarding Collies

I always giggle when I think of the word – which is really ironic.  Roll brain film:  A bunch of sheep smiling and quietly munching down on some bright green grass in the background while the sheep-chasing dogs in the foreground are devouring cantaloupe.  Beautiful peachy-orange colored fruit juice drips from their tongues as the collies roll around in some sort of ambrosia induced ecstasy = melancholy.  Thinking of the word makes me not.

So everybody kept asking me what was the matter today – friends, teachers, even the bus driver said that something must be wrong because I wasn’t causing a ruckus (his word – he’s kind of a goofy old tree-hugger type guy).  He was right.  I just felt – I don’t know – bummed.  And the more everybody bugged me about it the more bummed I got.  I just wanted to scream at them to leave me alone because I didn’t have an answer for them.  So then I was bummed and ticked.

So I stared at the splattered bug guts on the window while the unfocused outside rolled past.  The first seat – right behind Mr. Maybre – nobody ever sat there.  Everybody left me alone.  It was a bummer that the poor bug’s life ended smooshed into the glass of a bright yellow bus.  I wonder if it hurt.  It was a bummer that I failed yet another spelling test.  I wonder if the stupid letters will ever be able to get from my head through my pen in the right order.  It was a bummer that Jesse spilled red paint all over my drawing in Art.  I wonder if she’ll ever stop apologizing.  It was a bummer that we had tuna for lunch again today.  I wonder if we’re all going to turn into slimy fish.  It was a bummer that I ripped my favorite jeans diving for the base.  I wonder if I’ll go down in the history of the school – “the winning point that ripped the sound barrier!”  It was a bummer that I wasn’t on Kyle’s team.  I wonder he was disappointed or if he hates me.

Mr. Maybre winked as I trudged down the steps.

Mrs. Tanner shrugged as I turned down a ride home.  It wasn’t raining – at least not on the outside.

I opened the door and stopped dead in my tracks.  It washed over me, melting me into a comfortable ooze – the unmistakable, incredible, wonderful, awesome smell of chili.  The bummers evaporated, making room for the luscious wafts of beans, ground beef, chili powder, onions, tomatoes, and garlic bubbling quietly on the back of the stove.

“Ms. Baskette called and said you were a bit melancholy today.”

The florescent light of the fridge glistened on the crunchy smooth bowl of coleslaw.

Cinnamon Rolls lay hidden under a tea-towel rising to plump perfection.

“Shred Cheese” was second on my chore list (right after “Hug your mother.”  Moms are so goofy.)

It’s kind of weird that all my comfort food starts with C.

“Chili with cheese, coleslaw, and cinnamon rolls 

chase away 

cantaloupe hoarding collies.”  

Film at 11:00!

Clue: Penny, Library, Hum.

It was Penny.

In the Library.

With the Hum.

There was screaming.  There wasn’t supposed to be screaming.  This was the library.  Quiet talking and giggling – yes, but screaming – no.  And yet there was definitely screaming – chair crashing, books flying, body bouncing, arms flailing, eyes popping, ear-drum desiccating screaming.

“Stop humming, Penny, just stop humming.  I can’t stand it.  I’m trying to read and there are stupid random notes floating all over the room, bouncing off everything!  Stop, Penny.  You are driving me crazy with your stupid, dumb, mind-numbing, nonsensical humming!”

. . . insert cricket sound here . . .

I was a little taken aback by the screaming, but the silence was deafening.

Liz stared down at me like one of those cartoon bulls with bloodshot eyes.  I could swear there was steam coming out of her nostrils.

I believe I actually began to melt.

Kyle’s “Monster Truck Madness” was open and ignored.

Lisa’s “Oh-La-La: French Braiding” was open and ignored.

My “Mystery on Blackbird Pond” was open and ignored.

And Liz’s “Eleanor: A Life Remembered” lay on the floor – open and ignored.

All attention was on me:

It was Penny.

In the Library.

With the Hum.

Music and I go way back.  Singing in the car, in the shower, in the kitchen, in the woods, on the deck while cooking, cleaning, planting, picking, walking, running, skating accompanied or a cappella.  There’s even music in my dreams.  I have a guitar that says “that’s all folks!” on the back, an old-fashioned pump organ, a wooden flute, and a wonderful and often obnoxious voice box!  I use all of them – lots.  I sing when I’m board, bummed, and brilliant.  I was named after a song: it’s in my genes!

Road trips are the greatest!  Just when the excitement is wearing off and the boredom is setting in, notes come lofting back from the front seat.  Tiny and sporadic at first (I think Mom does that on purpose so I have to listen and think – figure out the tune.) and then stronger as those tiny notes are joined with harmony.  And then . . . the joint is jumpin’!  Mom likes the old stuff – obviously “Pennies from Heaven.”  “A You’re Adorable, Down By the Old Millstream, I’m Lookin’ over a Four-leaf Clover;” I love them all! 

Music is magic.  With someone-else’s words and tunes, I can transform anything – moods, places, times.  Music is my superhero super-strength!  “Gotcha with my G sharp!”

Thus the murder of sound as we know it . . . 

. . . insert cricket sound here . . .

It was Penny.

In the Library.

With a Hum.

Okay, I admit it – the mystery had me stumped.  I like to figure out the ending and then test out my amazing brain-power by actually reading the end of the book.  But my brain was stumped.  With the help of MGM I was lamenting my lack of creativity – “I'd unravel any riddle, For any individ'le, In trouble or in pain . . . If I only had a brain . . .”

I think a few of the notes leaked out.  This happens occasionally.  The music just needs to be free!

And then . . . there was screaming.

And then . . . silence.

And then . . . giggling.

And they all hummed happily ever after.

Special authors note: for those of you who hum – and you know who you are – thank you for giving me music – a gift that always held, comforted, supported, and thrilled me!