3RD-ROCK-FROM-THE-SUN PHILOSOPHY BLUES by Tom Lyford

4/7/2011

3rd-ROCK-FROM-THE-SUN PHILOSOPHY BLUES

In case you haven’t noticed it yet...
every last soul who ever walked the planet
(of the eighteen hundred ninety-eight zillion jillion)
is dust in the wind— oh, except for you, and those
paltry billions out there still hanging on... just for now...
banking on that grand delusion that somehow,
someway (admit it) you will, like Sisyphus,
figure out a way to cheat death
at the eleventh hour...

Newsflash: nobody gets off the rock alive— never
has, never will. This just in: you’re a‘ temporary,’
just this generation’s moss on the rolling stone,
and the hell of it... the Hades of it all:
you’re hopelessly hard-wired for SURVIVAL...
why, you’re a freakin’ robot, pc-programmed
to do everything in your mortal power not
to go gentle into that good night— it’s the ol’
Greek fate thing: classic existential irony...

So— you’ve got some choices:
you can agonize over it
every single day till your last dying breath...
or just get over it, simply accept that
whatever it’s all about, Alfie, it probably
ain’t about this place...

or not....

either way: you’ve got your work cut out for you...
either way: you’ve got some adjusting to do...

(Hey Luuuucy! you got some ‘justin’ to do...!)

1 Comment

Mark Cloutier link

12/23/2012 11:14:36

Mr. Lyford,
I am speechless.
And why is it that I am still amazed when life amazes me?
Is it that I think too much of myself?
Or can it be that I assume, from all my eyes have seen,
that I must have seen it all?
I was the class clown - inside, broken, and beaten down.
Not many ever truly know the clown - not even he - until critical mass shows up with a mirror.
You, Mr. Lyford, although I daily disrupted your class and was shown the door, taught me a love for words.
And words have freed me from the bondage of ignorance.

I would like to thank you for your part in my eventual, acceptable maturity, along with any success I may have enjoyed, and that I enjoy today.
I didn't like you when I was in school. But I liked you.
You see, I really liked being in your class, but I had this disease which kept me from being all that I could be.
"Class Clown."
I didn't like being told to go to the office every day.
So why didn't I stop? Why didn't I settle down? Why didn't I choose to focus?
I wasn't able.
Not that I blame you. I mean, you had a job to do after all, as did the rest of the teaching staff - though, they kicked me out of their class too - routinely.

Heck, I was kicked out of preschool - for accidentally poisoning myself!
Oh yeah! I ate what I thought was rhubarb, only it was the fury kind!
It made it worse that my friend, Wimpy, wanted some too.
We found ourselves in the E.R., sucking on syrup of ipecac.
And, when again we found ourselves in the E.R. - this time for eating bamboo (hey, pandas can do it, right?), we were summarily ushered off the manifest.

What does this all mean?
In adulthood, I was diagnosed with ADHD.
(I had always known I wasn't crazy)
I just didn't understand why I could never shut up - or sit in one place for more than a minute.
Worse? I was powerless to change it.

I liked most all of my teachers - but I disliked them too.
I admired them for their knowledge, which I desperately wanted for my own.
Yet there was a chair in the office that Sarah kept open just for me.
With the start of each class, she knew I would soon be down ...
I wanted SOMEBODY to understand me.
But was too soon old - and too late smart, I guess.
After all, they're educators, not therapists.

You did your job. And you did it well!
And I admire you for that.
Today, I finally (more than less), understand ME.

Today I have begun to read your work.
I can SO RELATE!
I am blessed - who knew?

To assume you would even remember my name would, I suppose, be presumptuous.
Though I realize we are all unique, I realize we are all the same.
And for that reason I am sure there were many like me over the course of your tenure.

At any rate, please accept my apology for disrupting your class so many times.
And thank you, from the bottom of my heart - for the passion that you share with us all, of your love for expression - for your love of words, which have the ability, not only to hurt, but also to love and to free us from the lost ditches of our own humanity.

Today I am a photojournalist.
I love my job.
I love being able to use words to communicate effectively.
Next to the gift of salvation, it has been the gift most favorite to me.

Thank you, Mr. Lyford, for the role you play. It reaches places I'm sure you'll never know.

Sincerely,
Mark Cloutier (Mark Clukey - class of 84)

3RD-ROCK-FROM-THE-SUN PHILOSOPHY BLUES by Tom Lyford

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3RD-ROCK-FROM-THE-SUN PHILOSOPHY BLUES by Tom Lyford

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