Kumbaya, New York, Kumbaya

You know what big cities don’t have? Good camp songs.

I mean, you need like a camp fire and an open night sky full of stars and grass and room enough for a circle. Closest place would be Coney Island in NYC and that’s just… well YOU try making a good bonfire at Coney.

Camp songs. Like Kumbaya, My Lord, Kumbaya. Or We are, we are, we are, we are the order of the Forks. Or Dem bones gone rise again — which might double as a chain gang song, I’m not sure, but you certainly wouldn’t get a Diamond Joe gone catch me, Diamond Joe through New York. It takes a special thing.

For instance: I remember being at Camp Joy in Boy Scouts and going to knot-tying class with Jim Nash — Andy’s dad. And we all sat around and tied our knots and Jim was working his way with a knot in the back of the makeshift amphitheater, all of those hand-planed benches on stumps holding our weight. And Jim’s a working and a working and we’re all making our little half hitches and square knots, naming them because the man wanted us to name them. I probably named mine fluffy or something, who knows.

And we go around the whole circle and it finally comes to Jim

“Well Jim?” asks the camp counselor.

And Jim holds up his hangman’s noose and says, “I call him Clyde.”

Yeah, that wouldn’t fly in the city’s day camps for kids. That afternoon, we heard another camp song and it fit the bill perfectly — fit my emotions while I stood there giggling inside at the hangman’s noose. And I hear that same song every time I hear an automated recording on the subway telling me to stand clear of the closing doors or that there’s train traffic up ahead of us — every time I get out and see Times Square because I just couldn’t commute around it — I hear the song, Announcements, announcements, announcements! What a terrible way to die! What a terrible way to die! What a terrible way to be talked to death, what a terrible way to die!

READ NEXT:  A Defense of Baby Worship

Be sure to share and comment. And subscribe.

Comment early, comment often, keep it civil:

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  1. neilcrabtree

    “Closing aisle 3, opening aisle 5” – surveillance Camera’s, signs for the mentally constipated, Facebook for the ego, iPhones so you can always care, housing a dream, nice car – more dreams, nice clothes, plenty of superannuation, time to retire, time to die. Much as I loved knots in Scouts and much as they have been of great use over my life – Its about time we started undoing them. Good luck for the next few months and here’s my latest in a poem as background to the Birds and the Bees:
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TU8bkIsmeMk Regards, Neil

    1. lanceschaubert

      Thanks man. Great stuff.

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

Please comment & share with friends how you prefer to share:

Follow The Showbear Family Circus on WordPress.com

Thanks for reading the Showbear Family Circus.
  1. "I think you can write about yourself without the vain, self-focused naval gazing. Good storytelling is a gift from writers…

  2. "His fans didn’t just write fiction about it. One calculated the tensile strength of the material it was made of.…

  3. My mother was the volatile Italian and my dad was the calming influence when things went awry. Dad was our…

  4. Lancelot, thank you, for that congrats, but I fear that continues my jinxed lament - that the late Andy Warhol…

Copyright © 2010— 2023 Lancelot Schaubert.
All Rights Reserved.
If we catch you using any of the substance of this site to train any form of artificial intelligence, we will prosecute
to the fullest extent permitted by any law.

Human children and adults always welcome
to learn bountifully and in joy.