Mamas, Don't Let Your Sons Grow Up to Be Poets

Here in my corner of the world, big, yellow buses pulled into the neighborhood and sleep-deprived children headed off for the first day of the school year. But all I can think of is the child of mine with no school to go to. You see, he finally graduated college last spring. He has this splendiferous English degree, which is very nice, I’m sure, but what he wants to be is a…well, I’ll just say it: a poet.
 
Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Poets are swell. Robert Frost and I go way back. And I’ve always loved that crazy e.e.cummings.  But when was the last time you heard of anyone writing “poet” in the box labeled “Occupation” on their income taxes?

That doesn’t faze my son, who continues to write his poetry while frying up hamburgers for the masses. Meanwhile, I keep thinking of all his commercial creativity going to waste. The boy has mad skills in the imagination department. I know this because his teachers often said things like, “What an unusual imagination Joey has!” or, “If only Joey would get his work done instead of playing with pencil erasers!”

Apparently, Joey spent a ton of grammar school hours creating stories like the “Tales of Eraser Man and Mr. Light Bulb.” Too bad Mr. Light Bulb didn’t shed any light on circumference and such. On the other hand, those school-supply superheroes could do amazing things with a little filament and eraser shavings.

In middle school, Joey brought home a story called, “The Adventures of Blue Afro and Little Willie.” Not the most politically correct story from a skinny, suburban white kid, but hey, those comic book characters were darn entertaining. Blue Afro was a superhero barber whose sidekick, Little Willie, lived in his puffy, blue hair. The two championed the rights of the downtrodden with various barber tools like scissors, or combs or gel. I don’t really remember how the gel saved the day, but that electric trimmer was one awesome hair-styling weapon. Anyway, the teacher didn’t comment much on this imaginative work of art. I guess the world was not quite ready for Blue Afro and his cohorts.

But now it’s a different world. The name-confused Miley Cyrus gets more media attention than a presidential election. Transgender performers are strutting their way into the semi-finals of "America’s Got Talent." And the Cartoon Network is overpopulated with bizarre characters like Aqua Teen Hunger Force, 12 oz. Mouse, and Robot Chicken. Heck, there’s even a cartoon called “Perfect Hair Forever.” That’s all I’m saying.

Or would say, if Joey would listen to me. Unfortunately, he’s a tad busy looking for other, more gainful employment, than a fry cook. And he has his poetry to write. Which I’m sure is chock full of wonderful imaginative stuff like metaphors and similes and whatnot. In the meantime, metaphors don’t pay the light bill.

Maybe Mr. Light Bulb could, along with Eraser Man, Blue Afro, and Little Willie. I’m feeling positively profitable about the Poetic Justice League, son. Now, get out there and save the world (and by world, I mean you. Metaphorically-speaking, of course.).

Cathy C. Hall is a humor columnist and freelance writer. She tells her family that she only writes about them once in a blue moon, but you can find out the truth at www.cathychall.blogspot.com.