As the unbloggable continues, and I find it increasingly difficult to rouse myself from the deep funk I’m mired in, I almost didn’t post again today – I’m just finding it hard to find the motivation (to say nothing of the time) required to write something intelligent and relevant.
The Young One, however, has rescued me, and given me something amusing.
It’s hard to believe that my baby, the youngest of five, is a senior in high school, but he is. Due to some scheduling conflicts (i.e. he didn’t want to give up either of his two study halls or early dismissal) he is taking Speech and Performance – what we called “drama class” back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. For this first grading period, his teacher is taking the “speech” portion of the class very seriously, and today he will be giving a speech that he has committed to memory in front of the entire class. I forget how he got stuck with JFK’s inaugural address, but that’s the speech he’s been agonizing over for the last several days.
Mostly the last several days because he put off memorizing it until the last possible moment. (Can we say “senioritis?”)
Seriously, though, by last night he had most of it down pat and was just struggling with a portion towards the end of the speech, but earlier this week he was having quite a bit of trouble with the first line, which consists of a rather long list of names.
Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy, fellow citizens…
He was pacing around the room while Beloved and I were doing whatever it was we were doing, repeating the line over and over, and becoming increasingly frustrated because he had to keep referring to the sheet the speech was written on. After a bit, he was able to recite the names, but then came up blank at what came afterwards. Finally, in an exceedingly irritated voice, we heard this:
“Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy, fellow citizens…I’m gonna botch the Bay of Pigs. Have a nice day.”
After the hysterical laughter died down and we picked ourselves up off the floor, Beloved turned to me and said, “YOU raised him.”
Don’t think I’m not proud of that.