How I Used Cremation as a Pastime

So the other day I was walking downtown to meet a friend. I get done with work a little earlier than her so I figured I’d sit down for a while and do some reading before we caught the bus back to the Richmond district.

BUT on the way, my brain returned to one of my crowning, freak childhood moments.

If you think I’m a weirdo now, picture me 12 years ago. I’ve spent the last dozen years shaping myself to pass as a run-of-the-mill twentysomething. BUT back in the 4th grade, I did not have such self-control. So, when my teacher asked us to choose a poem to recite for the class, can you guess my reaction?

I was thrilled.

No one should be thrilled about that assignment.

Seriously, I think it’s a form of torture in some countries.

ANYWAY, I probably could have saved myself a little humiliation (and a whole lot of time) by choosing the standard Shel Silverstein poem. Shel’s poems were fun, clever, and spoke to us 11-year-olds. He really got us. Shel was the way to go.

But did I choose him? Oh, no. I chose a 15 stanza poem by Robert W. Service called “The Cremation of Sam McGee.”

Yes, I spent an entire afternoon/evening sitting with my Alaskan Poems book (just wait till I write a post about my brief Alaska obsession) and memorized this enormous and totally twisted poem.

Ok, so it’s one thing for me to be a little freak and memorize this poem for fun (it’s a great poem and I would not look down upon my 11-year-old self for that), but it is quite another to make an entire class of 11-year-old boys and girls sit through my recital of a 12 stanza poem about a guy during the gold rush cremating his friend…

I just don’t even understand how my mom didn’t think hey…maybe I shouldn’t be proud of her for this. Maybe I should be a little concerned…

But she didn’t think that. And she was proud. And I recited it. And my class had to sit there and listen to it. It’s truly is a miracle that I had any friends in school.

So now back to the present day here in San Francisco.

As I’m walking to meet my friend, this poem just flashes into my head and all of a sudden I’m reciting it to myself as I walk. Now, it’s been 12 years, but I’m still able to remember like 8 of those stanzas and I’m going crazy trying to remember the rest.

So when I get to the place where I was planning on waiting and reading my book, I whip out my phone and google “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” by Robert W. Service instead. Then I start memorizing the parts I’ve forgotten until my friend shows up.

AND NOW

I often find myself reciting it whenever I’m walking alone. Down to the bus stop. On the way to Safeway. Going to get coffee.

The only other time this has happened was when there was a model named Katarzyna America’s Next Top Model. Tyra couldn’t pronounce her name and she got really angry and made Tyra repeat it a bunch of times. For like a week after that episode, I couldn’t stop saying Katarzyna like an angry model when I had to walk places by myself.

BUT SERIOUSLY that can’t happen anymore.

And while I’m strangely proud that I can still tell you about the Arctic Trails and their secret tales that would make your blood run cold I am also very aware of the how embarrassed I truly should be.

On a brighter note, I found this beautiful cover art via Kids Can Press.