Greetings, classh! Now that your
intellectual juices are highly concentrated we must begin our deep exfoliation
of Roma’s much studied po-em, “On My Way Ho-em.” Just kidding, of course – my,
my, I do have a sense of humour once in a blue mooning.
To begin, "On My Way Home" is in fact a continuation of the
story we crashed into in our recent lesion on "Exile". Do you
remember our heroine in that poem, Miss Take? Yes, indeed, it was Perma Frost!
Well, in this poem, Perma is going to get HOME from way up north in
Baffled Island, back to her loved ones, even Mr. Woof. So, we must understand
at once that "homecoming" is to be the MAJOR THEME of this poem. No,
Miss Rhine, I do NOT refer to college reunions in the Fall.
Now, we all know how good we feel
when we come home! No matter where we travel in our travails, it is always good
to return home, even if you live on Baffled Island, as some in fact do. But our
friend Perma has been marooned there, and is,
accordianly, blue, with her skin turning purple from frost bite as her eyes flash red and threaten to burn up an igloo. Oh dear, I hope
that doesn’t make you all puce.
Roma decomposes her poem as follows:
I have been given
One moment from heaven
Perma is speaking here, telling us that she has been given a gift! Yes,
studnuts, a special gift: one that comes from HEAVEN -- you see, Master
Corporal, that we enter the celestial sphere at once. Roma does NOT waste time,
and neither should you, Master Card who is passing notes to Miss Guided.
BUT, and there is always a but in Roma's poems, notice that dear Perma
has been given ONLY one moment. I know that seems quite brief, but what
did you expect, Miss Begotten? Heaven is very, very busy, with lots of souls
popping in to look for the Angel of Cream Cheese, while others pop out to look
for a good time by calling Elvis at 555-666-3333. Thus Heaven has just one
moment to give to Perma, but does she care? Is she terribly disappointed?
We must continuate in order to recover this:
As I am walking
Surrounded by night
No, classh, Perma is actually glad that Heaven has just given her one
moment because she has now been surrounded by night and is walking in the dark,
in a London Fog, so to speak. Well, even one moment of that is more than
enough, as she keeps bumping into Inukshuks that are quite stoned.
The night in fact surrounds Perma with Dolby 5.5. Where is she going?
How is she supposed to know -- she cannot see a thing! What a lovely gift from
Heaven --they must be having a bad hair day up there.
Then we uncover even more:
Make a wish under moonlight
How puzzling Roma becomes here - stars are high above Perma, but, given
that she is encased by Dolby surround night, how can she see them? She
cannot, of course, but our Perma is a woman of great faith: she BELIEVES the
stars are still there and have not been obliterated by a rogue Black
Hole, like the one that went through here just a moment ago, sweeping Master
Key away, away, away. I do hope he has travel insurance.
Now, the stars high above Perma are doing something often associated
with bright celestial objects: they are making a WISH! “When you wish upon a
star, makes no difference who you are, when you wish upon a star, your dreams
come true,” and Roma will indeed make Perma's dream come true if we pay
attention to her deterioration of this poem.
Consider, my fledglings, that the stars high above Perma are making a
wish! Now that is called a "poeticus aboutus faceus" because
normally WE make a wish upon a star (as sung, off key, above) but here
it is the STARS that are making a wish -- most likely to win an Emmy or an
Oscar or a Grammy, or maybe even a nice old Granny.
And note, Miss Tuned, that the stars are making their wish under the
influence of MOONSHINE, which explains why they are so high!
We come now, studnuts, to the CHORUS. The Chorus, as you may remember
from our extirpations of other poems, is VERY important to Roma, so important
that she repeats it again at the END of the poem. But we won’t worry about
that, will we?
So here come the three chorus lines, all wearing black tights and high
heels:
I remember
Only good days.
Bravo, Roma, we should all be smiling, for this is a very positive
altitude. When we are going home, we should push far away all thoughts of BAD
days, although, to be sure, there are no bad days at Roma Ryan’s High and
Petting Zoo, except, of course, when Mother Superioriosa calls a faculty
beating and I lose all my faculties.
So we must remember ONLY good days! Yes, Miss Calculated, forget
about the F- in Math you got from Brother Numericus. You were just having a bad
math day, no need to worry. Remember only the GOOD days, like when Miss Placed
lost her locker key in the loo, or when Brother Klumsius dropped a bottle of
Pepto-Brennan ™ in the Teachers Lounge, by accident of course. My, my, what fun
we all had then, but I digress.
So, classh, we now see that Perma is no longer frosted; she has a
positive desire to recall only the GOOD in life -- now THAT is a lesion we all
need to remember!
Roma now adds extra stress to this philosophy of life, the
universe and 42:
On my way home
Yes, Roma has indeed raised the bar here – no wonder I am so suddenly
thirsty. She tells us that we all need to do more than recall only GOOD days:
we need to recall ALL THE BEST DAYS! Like the day you arrived from Mars, Miss
OperaKait, with all those candy bars. Some students Snickered, but you had much
Bounty, and brought us all Almond Joy. How well I remember that high caloric
day of chocolate intoxication.
What a happy, positive altitude our poor, bedraggled Perma now has,
thanks to dear Roma, her creator and mentor – the power of positive thinking
made manifestoed!
Let us excavate further:
I'm on my way home
Every new day
On our collective ways home, intones Roma, we must also do more,
yes, Master Piece, even more: we must remember EVERY NEW DAY! Now this poses a
conundrum, doesn't it? You see, classh, how can we remember every new day when, by the time it's over and we have something to remember, it is no longer a NEW
day but an old day? Yes, Miss Conceived, please do think about
that, for Roma the Ever Clever here challenges us with a philosophical,
metaphysical, abstract and ultimately cosmic question.
But we must dig down even further into our poetic excavation:
With each step taken
Aha! Perma is thinking very hard about metaphysical matters and
thus walks VERY silently, so as not to disturb her mind, which may already be
disturbed by having spent all that time on Baffled Island.
Perma thus moves in silence, and she speaks not a word, even though she
is SINGING right here, right now! As she takes each step, one by one,
she walks so quietly that not even the big white polar bear that has been following
her realizes that she is moving. Now, Miss Dated, we can see why silence is so
important in our lives: you never can tell when a polar bear will be on your
shore, looking for Coca Cola.
And now, Roma will tell us WHY Perma must walk so silently:
Snow falling round me
Like angels in flight
SNOW! Yes, my dears, that awful white stuff we have to shovel away,
away, away! Why, this past winter, I demolished 10 snow shovels - well, I
didn't mean to, but I was driving on ice and my SUV (aka Sister’s Ungainly
Vehicle) just ran right over them, and I was so upset, but I am yet again
digressing, for which I must profoundly apologize to Master Full who is talking
to Miss Hap who is talking to Master Mind, sigh.
Frosty SNOW is falling round Perma, and it is falling on a silent
night --YES! The time of year IS Christmas, Miss Rhine, you are totally
correct! And Roma makes this even clear enough for Master Mixer by telling us
that the snow is falling "like angels in flight." Snow, silence,
angels -- the perfect recipe for Yuletide, or any other cold water detergent.
What a lovely image: snow that falls like an angel in flight. My, those
snowflakes must be big: the last angel I saw, when I regained consciousness
after an unfortunate trip, was as big as Roma Downey, who is not Roma
Ryan, nor is she a fabric softener - she is an angel, the kind you see on
re-run TV stations when you can force yourself to leave your computer, Miss
Micro-Soft.
Now, if a snowflake the size of Roma Downey was falling all around me,
I would be in deep flakey trouble, just like Perma is. No wonder she walks
silently -- maybe Roma Downey won't hear her and will land on the polar bear
instead!
So, here is our poetic picture ad pointum thisum:
Perma Frost, long seeking to return home from Baffled Island, is
walking very quiety through snowflakes the size of TV angels, but notice,
studnuts, that these angels are IN FLIGHT! Flittering all around Perma, they
confuse the poor dear even more -- but she knows that angels are GOOD beings
and thus takes heart. Why, she might even burst into "Angeles" any
moment if we are lucky enough to be listening while the snow is glistening.
Then Roma grants us these poignant lines:
Far in the distance
Is my wish under moonlight
Far in the distance Perma, whose eyesight remains crystal clear despite
her surroundings, sees something truly wonderful: a wish under moonlight. Now,
Miss Cued, think about that. Do you recall that a "wish under
moonlight" appeared in the first stanza? You do! Gloria In Excelsis! In the
first stanza Perma indeed sang that "stars high above me make a wish under
moonlight" - so Roma here uses the poetic device known as "returnium
ad initium".
Thus, the poem comes full circle here, classh, even though the chorus
must be repeated next in order to complete closure! Closure: yes, THAT is what
Perma is seeking, as we all must: closure is so important in our lives - we
must ALWAYS close the doors and windows when it is snowing like angels in
flight outside. That way we expend less energy and heal our overheated planet.
But, we may ask at this junction, what IS the wish that Perma
wishes? And why is she wishing it under moonlight?
Lettuce consider moonlight first:
Ah, the Magic of Moonlight - why that could be the title of Enya's next
CD! Wouldn't that be wonderful! Moonlight is so magical: it brings us light in
the dark, guides us on our ways home, lights up our lives, smiles down upon us,
gives us moonburn if we are out in it too long, so always apply Moonshadows ™
lotion at night, studnuts. Available only on eBay, at inflation prices of
course.
So, by the light of the moon, that silvery moon, Perma looks afar and
away, and sees her wish! She must get to it before it devaporates! She must
march like a Celt in a kilt to where that wish is --you see, Roma is telling us
something very importunate: we MUST struggle long and hard to get to our
wishes! Life, you see, is NOT like a box of chocolates - at least not anymore,
since I ate every chocolate in Ireland while preparing this lesion. No, life is
a constant long, long JOURNEY, under rigourous metereological conditions. So
always wear your boots and take your mittens.
But, we ask, what is this WISH that Perma struggles to reach -
THAT is the question du jour! I suggest, in all humiliation, that Perma's wish
is simply this: for this poem to END so that she can stop singing in the snow
and go home where the woodstove is burning and have a hot toddy! I definitely
would like one right about now, wouldn't you, Miss Rhine?
You see, my fledglings, as humanoids, we all have a very strong HOMING
INSTINCT, especially if we haven't bathed in a very long time. Thus, Perma's
wish is simply to get this episode of her life over with and go home - my, that
sounds so much like your OWN wish, classh, but I digress. And after a
repetition of the chorus lines, perhaps she will – maybe, maybe not.
Ta for now!