Glancing at the headlines this morning, prominent is an article about the 40 year anniversary of the killing of Dr. King. A good deal of what I know about history comes, oddly enough, from music.
It was at the Dark Horse in Boulder, Colorado, senior year in college, where I smashed the competition in a game of trivia knowing the month and city in which Martin Luther King died. It had nothing to do with endless hours spent studying or my nearly completed history minor. It was because of a well-known song in which U2 speaks musically about that day, “Early morning, April four. Shot rings out in the Memphis sky.” The event did occur, however, in the evening. Sorry, Bono.
It's odd how little one retains (and what one does remember) after four years and a bachelors degree. My head is filled with grammar, punctuation and usage (given my daily work), yet I refer to the AP Style Guide and Strunk and White most every day. I recall the sorta-hot-in-her-early-40’s creative writing teacher who wore lowride Levi’s that gave her perpetual moose knuckle. And the zany music professor with bushy eyebrows he would comb straight up and out, like flowerily, false eyelashes at brow level. He must have sprayed them to keep them stiff.
It was obviously a history class. An exam essay question asks to expound upon the preamble to constitution. I look up, stare into my own head and hum a fave childhood tune, courtesy of Schoolhouse Rock.
We the peoplllleee in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice ensure domestic tranquility…e...e...eeeee. Provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare ANNNDDaaa secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves and our prosperity. To ordain and estaaabbblish this constitution foorrr the United States oooffff Americaaaa.
Before I open my blue book and begin the task at hand, I briefly look left and right to see every other student in class with eyes closed or staring blankly ahead, singing in their heads.
We need more Schoolhouse Rock.