Spooky

In the cool of the evenin’
When everything is gettin’ kind of groovy
I call you up and ask you if you’d like to
Go with me and see a movie

In the cool of the evenin’
When everything is gettin’ kind of groovy
I call you up and ask you if you’d like to
Go with me and see a movie

First you say no
You’ve got some plans for the night
And then you stop, and say, all right
Love is kinda crazy with a spooky little girl like you

You always keep me guessin’
I never seem to know what you are thinkin’
And if a fella looks at you…

This is the first four stanzas (minus one final line) of the Classics IV sung song, Spooky, written by James B. Cobb, Jr., Harry Middlebrooks, Buddy Buie, and Mike Shapiro.

Did anything come to mind when you read these lines? How many of you could hear the song sung in your head? How many remember it from your youth? You don’t have to answer.

How much of a day do you spend remembering your past? How much of it involves joy? How much regret? How much I wonder/what if? What do you do with your remembering? Do you use it? Do you slough it off? Does the thought come to mind–how many more memories will I have before (a) I can’t anymore, (b) I’m not anymore, (c) they take over my present, (d) [you fill in the blank]?

How often do you purposely reraise a memory? Why? Would that we did that only to relish, or smile, but how often is a bitterness that asks you to call it back up, a resentment, a hurt, an urge, need, desire to rewrite or repay or reassert? How often is it the regret of its ever occurring that dredges it up again-how can I make this that I did, thought, said, and shouldn’t have–right?

How big is repentance in each of our lives? How much of it do we (I) need to complete? Why did I do what now needs to be repented? Am I likely to do it again? Is it preventable?

How big is forgiveness in each of our lives? Of others. Of ourselves. If I do not forgive, what will I be like for the rest of my life on earth?

If I do forgive, how will that define me going forward? If I do forgive today, will I still tomorrow? And if not, why not?

Last question: the other day I was looking at a trove of trees and wondering at their closeness to each other, their height, their variety even as they were all tall, brown trunked, green leaved (mostly, some were reddening and oranging), and the calm they instilled in me as I stared. We are undermining trees very roots, and disassembling their bodies and lives. So much we do this to. Why were humans created? In the fact of us, what good do we bring to this earth?

Spooky.

Fill in your own captions.

If you have made it to this bottom line. Thank you. Not all days delight.