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Row, Row, Row Your Boat

©2009 David Boyne

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I'm pushing an elephant up the stairs
I'm tossing up punch lines that were never there
Over my shoulder a piano falls
Crashing to the ground

I'm breaking through
I'm bending spoons
I'm keeping flowers in full bloom
I'm looking for answers from the great beyond

—Songwriters: Micahel Stipe; Peter Buck; Mike Mills

I know what will happen the moment you die.

But if I tell you now, you won’t join me in rambling though the rest of this essay. And if I put the answer at the very end, you will skip down there, read it, and leave. So there’s no getting around it, friend. If you want to know what will happen the moment you die, you’ll just have to miss several brilliant advertisements on television, and read on.

When I was much younger and much smarter, about age five, I had the measles. Or the measles had me. It was a toss up for a while. Whether from contagion or competitiveness, my two brothers had the measles at the same time. For several days and nights, the three of us lay in our beds, separately but equally struggling to shut the door on one of Life’s many exit strategies. In the deep end of one long, hot, bed-soaking night, I had, what I’ve since learned is called, a “waking dream.”(Note: If you would like to experience a waking dream, attend any production of any play written by William Shakespeare.)

In my waking dream, I watched, petrified with fear, fever, and fascination, as a small flying saucer appeared near the ceiling. It was round, as flying saucers should be, and spinning. From its dome top, blue and red lights flashed. The flying saucer zigzagged across the black room and came to hover directly above me. I watched, petrified with fear, fever, and fascination, as a tiny rope ladder dropped from the bottom of the tiny flying saucer, and tiny people began clambering down the tiny rope ladder. When I realized that I knew the two-inch tall people clambering down the rope ladder beneath the flying saucer, I should have felt tremendous relief. But I remained petrified with fear, fever, and fascination, as the romantic triangle of Popeye, Olive Oyl, and Bluto, followed by the Zen master, Jeep, each held the ladder with one three-fingered hand, while waving the other three-fingered hand down at me...

Read the rest of Row, Row, Row Your Boat and a dozen other essays in the ebook, Quo Vadis, Dude?

Was $14,345.95—
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(While supplies last)