October 15, 2003
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Chapter Four – Coming of Age (cont.) (story begins 9/8)
At twelve years old, I graduated from elementary school and was appointed salutatorian for the ceremonies. My father was devastated that I hadn’t won valedictorian status and wrote my speech for me. He included verses from a song made popular by Frank Sinatra in that decade and considered by my parents a political anthem, “The House I Live In.” It was fitting. I can remember the melody, the sound, so well: “The place I live in, the road, the house, the room, the pavement of the highway or a garden all in bloom…” It was a song about tolerance and peace. While I was writing this chapter I discovered a footnote to this incident: the song was written by Abel Meeropol, the man who took in the children of the Rosenbergs after their parents had been executed. At any rate, Annabelle Edwards, whose father was the School Board Chairman and owner of the town’s only meat packing plant, was chosen valedictorian instead of me. She was an odd sort, too.
House I Live In Lyrics:
Writer(s): robinson/allen
What is america to me
A name, a map, or a flag I see
A certain word, democracy
What is america to me
The house I live in
A plot of earth, a street
The grocer and the butcher
Or the people that I meet
The children in the playground
The faces that I see
All races and religions
That’s america to me
The place I work in
The worker by my side
The little town the city
Where my people lived and died
The howdy and the handshake
The air of feeling free
And the right to speak your mind out
That’s america to me
The things I see about me
The big things and the small
That little corner newsstand
Or the house a mile tall
The wedding and the churchyard
The laughter and the tears
And the dream that¹s been a growing
For more than two hundred years
The town I live in
The street, the house, the room
The pavement of the city
Or the garden all in bloom
The church the school the clubhouse
The millions lights I see
But especially the people
- yes especially the people
That’s america to me
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Deep Thought:
When you go in for a job interview, I think a good thing to ask is if they ever press charges.
Comments (3)
Wow, your dad wrote your speech for you? That would have ticked me off no end.
Yup, he was pretty pushy. Every time I did something he would say, “This is good (or okay), but you can do better.”
I learned to stop asking my dad’s opinion on my writing, because, though we both write well, we have very distinct styles.
That’s a really neat song, though.