Burn, Baby, Burn

By Margy McCarthy

"The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars..." - Kerouac

Fabulous yellow roman candle people.

I have known many in my life. I was raised by a family full of them. I sought them as friends in my youth- learning early to eschew those things and people more "popular" for those that stretched my mind, made me laugh, touched my heart. I strive to teach my students to find that madness in themselves-- I seek it still. But I am sure I'm not alone when I say that I didn't recognize any of it, or myself, as being extraordinary until I became an adult.

The things I took for granted, the core beliefs and values that shaped me and opened my eyes to my own infinite possibility seemed commonplace to the point that my assumption was that this was simply the way of the world. It wasn't until I went off to college that I recognized that my life had been different than those of most of my contemporaries. What was ordinary to me was indeed extraordinary. Golden.

When it came time to decide "What I Want to Be When I Grow Up" the possibilities were limitless. The world was wide open to me-- I had only to choose. Music? Theatre? Literature? Creative Writing? In the end --"The smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd" won out, and I sang, danced, read, wrote, acted, painted, hammered, sawed, designed and directed my way through four of the most tumultuously beautiful years imaginable... At the same time I fell in love several times, broke a few very precious hearts and had my own bruised, sailed through my degree curriculum and slogged through liberal arts, learned that strangers could be my family too, and held fast to the belief that I had the power to make a difference. I ultimately came out of that experience reeling. I was married to a sparkly blue-eyed man, I had a double Bachelor's and buried deep in the crevices of my brain was the seed of a damned good story. Not bad for four years.

That was twenty-four years ago.

And in that time, Mr. Sparkly-Blue-Eyes and I have traveled many roads- growing, changing, evolving (and reproducing.) Still chasing our dreams, still sure we'll make a difference, still -as Kerouac says- burning... and I'm still not entirely sure what I want to be when I grow up.

So last night when my son comes to me moaning that he has to write his senior essay, but can think of nothing that sets him apart- nothing that makes him "extraordinary"; I tell him that he should just tell them about his boring life.

So he goes to his room and writes an essay explaining that he goes out with his "CanMan" Grandpa to collect cans to recycle for Habitat. He explains that that aluminum has not only helped save the rainforest and cut back on landfills, but it has built three complete houses for honest, hard-working people who wouldn't have them otherwise. He apologizes for the lack of adversity in his life, explaining that his parents have been married for almost twenty-three years and they still like each other. He explains that the place he is the happiest is on top of a mountain by himself the day before the rest of the kids come to music camp. Just him with the pine-scented air and the wind in the trees and the animals, and he thinks maybe that's where he would like to spend the rest of his life. Maybe.

Maybe forestry. Or there's music. Or vet school. Or...

Fabulous yellow roman candles.

Comments

[Judy Larsen]

Oh, Margy, this is lovely. You've given him much more than just a spark. As I watch my 5 kids/stepkids find their way, I want the same for them--passion, risk, striving for more within themselves. And modeling it is one of the best ways I know to get them there!

[ginger]

sweet post. And don't you think that the simplest stories can often be the most heartfelt?

[margy]

Thank you, Judy. I certainly try to model the kind of life I want for my kids. It's hard though- when I want so much more for them than even I ever had.

Ginger- thanks for visiting! I was so impressed with his writing- and frankly, I DO think it was not only heartfelt, but showed a great deal of the "extraordinary" he was so sure he lacked.

[Molly]

That's beautiful! And can I just say what a treat it is to read a post from a parent who has something positive to say about how odious all teenagers are gets old fast, especially when I have two specimens in my house who aren't terrible at all. Challenging, certainly, but not evil, as teens are made out to be.

[margy]

Thanks, Molly. As both a teacher and a parent, I can vouch for a good percentage of kids today. There will always be a few who are challenges- but they are far outnumbered by good kids who are just-- just kids.

[Daisy]

Beautiful. I love the way he made the seemingly ordinary sound so special.

[margy]

So do I, Daisy. Sometimes I'm so proud of him I could pop.

[jess]

i'm not a mom nor even a teenager anymore, but this post and many previous are examples of the reason i read this blog!

my brother and myself are 18 and 20-year-old college students, raised by a couple of those wonderful "mad" people and are just like that ourselves.
thanks for the story. :)

[margy]

Thanks, Jess. I;m flattered.

"Mad" people, as Kerouac defines them, are the ones who do it right.

Burn, baby. Burn.