A Fire in the Boy's Bathroom

An essay in today's electronic edition of LA Weekly has me pondering roots this morning. Fittingly, I'm listening to Kevin Gordon's 2000 release Down to the Well (did you make it back, KG?). Anyway, the record is great and about as r o o t s as it gets. BTW, Gordon will be in IC at the Mill on the 23rd or 24th - give 'em a call.

Billy Graham has been making the news for his decision to "retire" at the age of 86. We'll see. Rev. Graham and I graduated from the same elementary school in Charlotte, N.C. -- Sharon School. I had a dream once that the school caught on fire and, sure enough, the next day there was a fire in the boy's bathroom. We all knew Bucky Canady had started it. The custodians had determined that someone had thrown burning paper into the trash can. Bucky was wild. He was the first boy to put a hand on my thigh in class. Not until seventh grade, mind you. We were at Carmel by then. Nothing happened between us after that. We didn't "go with" each other or anything. He just stroked my thigh and gave me a big 'ol Bucky grin. I turned bright pink, looked up at him fast to make certain this was really happening and then pretended it wasn't.

Billy and Bucky are not unsimilar names if you think about it. Carmel wasn't around when Graham would have gone to junior high (maybe he went to AG) but I can't imagine that Billy doesn't have a girl like me out there. We've got southern roots, fond memories of a fire-starting boy's wandering hands, gratitude for not living in the well anymore and great hopes that the Rev. Graham may be serious about this retirement business.

Whew, this must be the shortest essay inspired by an essay ever! I had to really restrain myself from putting in a reference to A Cooper's "Smoking in the Boy's Room" here. Too easy but thinking about it still cracks me up.

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