The trouble was, the door needed to be painted and installed, and I never quite got around to figuring how to fit it on the back door. So it stayed in the basement, still wrapped in its plastic covering. Now the time had come.
Then Anne told us we had ten minutes to write a country-western song (the creativity part), saying goodbye.
I was aghast. I never listened to that kind of music, much less knew how to write something in that style. Yet an assignment was an assignment. The clock was ticking. After ten minutes, this is what I had:
Goodbye, You Old Screen Door
First I saw you in the store
Sweetest damn thing I ever saw.
You were a great little back screen door,
But you ain’t right for me.
You’ve been keeping out of view
Wrapped in plastic like the dew
Untouchable, inscrutable too,
You aren’t the door for me.
I don’t know how to put you on
And I ain’t going to learn.
You want a long ride in my truck?
Or you just want to burn?
It’s time we went our separate ways,
You’re just too cute for me.
I don’t want you round my back door.
You should have stayed a tree.
It won’t play well at the Grand Ol’ Opry, but it did the job. I put the door out by the curb early enough so someone could come along and take it before the garbagemen came. Someone did.
September is the perfect time to get something you know you’ll never use out of your life. You don’t even have to write an essay or a song or an ode to it. But I’d love to hear it if you do!