Sometimes I feel I should do as the hummingbird does.
Every 6 months or so the thumb-sized bird migrates to southern climes to survive.
Likewise, every 6 months or so I feel the urge to migrate to the crowded climes of downtown Toronto – in search of a real job.
The comparison with the hummingbird is apt. Whenever I'm downtown I feel like a puny extra in an old Japanese movie, flitting around, screaming out-of-sync as the Godzilla-like buildings disappear me.
It's not just my voice that's out of sync. I think I'm out of sync with reality.
As I walked among the suits and subway grates a few weeks ago, it came upon me that maybe I wouldn't fit in. One clue: I was bouncing along King Street whistling the tune Chic-Chic-Chicken from the nursery school where I play piano every day.
Would the CEO of Royal Bank know that song? I guess his version would be Chicken Cordon Blue.
The real version is this:
Chic, Chic, Chic, Chic, Chicken
Lay a little egg for me.
Now, after playing that song until my ears bleed, I need to change it up a bit to survive.
Now I sing:
Swiss Chalet Chicken
Lay a double leg for me
That's pretty harmless for the children. With another song I might have gone a bit too far.
The Apple Tree Song. It goes like this:
Way up high in the apple tree
Two little apples smiled at me
I shook that tree as hard as I could
And down came the apples
Mmm were they good
Can you imagine giving a child an apple directly from the tree, with its invisible skin of insecticide? I wonder how many honey bees had to die to keep that apple shiny and red. Were they stealing the apples from an orchard? Did they put a hard working farmer out of business?
I prefer my version:
Way up high in the apple tree
I slung a rope to hang me
I tightened that noose as hard as I could
And down came my body
Mmm, it felt good
The kids loved it. The child care inspector needed some convincing.
I am not allowed in the Royal Bank tower anymore.
HELLOOOO NEWMAN: Laughter is your sixth sense
