"I walked past those two brothers," my wife confided, "And they were both talking about how they'd had their model cars stolen when they were boys."
"Hmm. Actually bullying's quite a big issue," I offered. "You can't be too certain what's set it off."
She didn't seem convinced, and pressed, "Can't you expect that they'll have got over it by now?".
But before I could frame a reply, the tune started off in my mind.
"Do you know, when I was about six, my Mum used to sing this song. The original went, 'Johnny won your marbles / Tell you what we'll do / Dad'll buy some new ones right away...'. Only, my best friend was called Barry, and she used to make it: 'Barry stole your marbles / Tell you what we'll do / Dad'll buy some new ones right away...'" Now I was in full flight, unconcerned who may catch me singing. "'...Time to go to bed now / Little man, you've had a busy day.' Only he rarely did," I added, referring to the marbles.
"But that didn't matter. I was consoled, and that's what mattered."
That was a word I've never used before in connection with my mother. Consoled. I was surprised at the strength of it. Recalling the endless childhood times Barry beat me at marbles, I could picture our two houses, six doors apart. No, not a hint of a hang-up.
Why did my mother seemingly manage to get it right? How come these two brothers apparently hadn't fared so well? I wondered how many other injustices in the world may be healed by consolation. How do you build that into a disaster relief aid programme? Or even a parenting course?
Our arrival at the Sunday morning meeting shut down my musing. I wasn't bothered. The only scripture I could think of involved 'consoling breasts' (Isaiah 66:11) and I didn't want to over-elaborate.
When I Googled the lyrics of the silly insistent song, I got another surprise. Before the 'marbles' verse comes: 'Little man you're crying / I know why you're blue / Someone took your kiddy car away /...' "Oh, I don't believe it," I muttered to Mary.
Later, we found the YouTube version with Henry Hall's orchestra and Phyllis Robbins singing. But it doesn't match my Mum's.
"Hmm. Actually bullying's quite a big issue," I offered. "You can't be too certain what's set it off."
She didn't seem convinced, and pressed, "Can't you expect that they'll have got over it by now?".
But before I could frame a reply, the tune started off in my mind.
"Do you know, when I was about six, my Mum used to sing this song. The original went, 'Johnny won your marbles / Tell you what we'll do / Dad'll buy some new ones right away...'. Only, my best friend was called Barry, and she used to make it: 'Barry stole your marbles / Tell you what we'll do / Dad'll buy some new ones right away...'" Now I was in full flight, unconcerned who may catch me singing. "'...Time to go to bed now / Little man, you've had a busy day.' Only he rarely did," I added, referring to the marbles.
"But that didn't matter. I was consoled, and that's what mattered."
That was a word I've never used before in connection with my mother. Consoled. I was surprised at the strength of it. Recalling the endless childhood times Barry beat me at marbles, I could picture our two houses, six doors apart. No, not a hint of a hang-up.Why did my mother seemingly manage to get it right? How come these two brothers apparently hadn't fared so well? I wondered how many other injustices in the world may be healed by consolation. How do you build that into a disaster relief aid programme? Or even a parenting course?
Our arrival at the Sunday morning meeting shut down my musing. I wasn't bothered. The only scripture I could think of involved 'consoling breasts' (Isaiah 66:11) and I didn't want to over-elaborate.
When I Googled the lyrics of the silly insistent song, I got another surprise. Before the 'marbles' verse comes: 'Little man you're crying / I know why you're blue / Someone took your kiddy car away /...' "Oh, I don't believe it," I muttered to Mary.
Later, we found the YouTube version with Henry Hall's orchestra and Phyllis Robbins singing. But it doesn't match my Mum's.
1 comment:
Just found this one.
Brilliant blog.
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