You Don't Know Me

You give your hand to me
Then you say hello
I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me

First let me give credit where credit is due; The song 'You Don't Know Me' was written by Eddie Arnold and Cindy Walker in 1955. It has been recorded by a number of great artists including; Ray Charles, Elvis Presley, Kenny Loggins, Jann Arden, Willie Nelson, Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, Harry Connick Jr and on and on. Although my favorite version was done by Kenny Loggins on his 1980 'Alive' album I also enjoyed the latest version by Willie Nelson on his aptly named 'The Songs of Cindy Walker'. The worst version, by far, had to be Jann Arden's release on her album 'Live with the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra'.

The themes for my blogs will all take their form, in one way or another, from the lyrics of songs that have managed to work their way into my heart and soul (though most people think I posses neither; as a side, my favorite author Stephen King once said, "People want to know why I do this, why I write such gross stuff. I like to tell them I have the heart of a small boy... and I keep it in a jar on my desk"). So why call my blog 'You don't know me'? Although the songs theme is 'Unrequited Love', the song speaks to me about my lack of intimacy when it comes to letting people really know me.

I suppose there are those that are closest to me that have an inkling of my DNA makeup and there are those who think, or barely know, what makes Larry tick. My co-workers and casual acquaintances mostly see me as 'Mr. Politically Incorrect' and yes there is no doubt that this reputation proceeds me wherever I roam. I must admit it has been fairly earned as well.

The fact that I was born without the 'PC' filter normally installed between your mouth and brain is quite evident. I have crafted this part of my persona ever since the class clown of my grade 3 class, John Carney (sorry John wherever you are, no really I am...alright I'm not), was home sick one day from school and someone had to fill the position. I don't believe there were any job applications or job postings for the position, I just nominated myself. At first it was simply a coping mechanism to allow me to fit in or stand out from the crowd. You see I never excelled at anything in my life. I was a good athlete but not a great one. I was a good student but not a great one. However I was a great class clown.

Being a class clown means you have a steady gig 5 days a week. Of course the pay is non-existent. My popularity soared in and out of class. When I wasn't cracking up a classroom I could be found out in the hallways of my school, not on purpose mind you, where I would be inevitably found by the Principal of our elementary school while she made her rounds. During the 60's 'the strap', as it was affectionately known, was the Principals favorite method of child enlightenment. Our Principal, unfortunately my Mother's good friend, was an old pro when it came to 'the strap'. A large matronly woman with beady eyes that shone with the fires of Hades, well that was the impression she gave the 6-10 year olds. Her head of curly hair just emphasized her roots in purgatory as it gave her a Medusa like resemblance. She had a way of building up the 'enlightenment', almost giving you the false hope of ultimately escaping her wrath, all the while she was simply summoning every ounce of energy in her ample girth only to put it in motion on any number of your body parts. Of course the pummeling was accompanied by the usual statement "This hurts me more than it hurts you" to which I somehow could not stop the reply..."Then why don't you let me hit you with the strap so that I might get the most of my punishment"...this just made her arm fat resonate with a frequency only heard by bats as she increased the number of strikes exponentially.

The beating I remember the most stemmed from an incident of harmless discovery. It was picture taking day at the school. All the boys had on there best shirt, blazer and tie all looking quite similar to Beaver Cleaver (the 50's and 60's TV show...no affiliation with any modern adult sites) . The girls were all done up in their best sweaters atop of their favorite skirt or dress. Everyone is lined up for the photo op. I recover a yardstick hanging alongside the chalk board and proceed to lift each skirt just enough to have a peek of each of the girls undercarriage. Now I am sure you are coming to the realisation, as did I eventually, that the yardstick was the wrong apparatus to use in this endeavour. I would have preferred a mechanic's dolly to scoot around on in a much more covert manner, however, there were none in sight. My choice of the discovery implement, wait for it...became the implement of the next scarring beating saga. Too bad pool noodles were not prevalent in the 60's. How my mother continued to have a good freindship with my Principal, despite my actions, is still amazing to me.

Once Primary to Grade 3 was done with it was on to a new school for the next 6 years. My newest Principal, a weird combination of TV characters Kojak (Telly Savalas) and Gonzo from the Muppets, was affectionately known as 'Scab Eyes'. The source of the nickname still escapes me, perhaps I am just to scared, even today, to research the topic . I am sure they just slid him back in his 'iron lung' at the end of each school day and rolled him back into his lair only to have the whole process reversed each morning. He ruled the school with an iron fist and rumors abounded of his ability to kick any student's ass no matter their size or what part of town they were from. Despite the fear of becoming a midnight snack for our cannibalistic Principal I spent even more time out in the hallways of middle school and even received an award from my peers for Most Humerous student. My favorite teacher was my wood shop teacher. He was very quick to remind me of the fact that "The world is full of unemployed comedians!" Perhaps a change in career plans was in order. Nah...screw it! I beleive the great philosipher Plato...or maybe perhaps it was Popeye...once said 'I yam what I yam!".

To conclude here is a quick quote on intimacy:

It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy;-- it is disposition alone. Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others. ~ Jane Austen Sense and Sensibility

Here is a link to YouTube with Willie Nelson performing 'You DOn't Know Me'.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DPeyrjPN5Qs