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Reliving the Glory Days

Last weekend, I visited two former high school friends who were also my teammates on our high school basketball team. It didn't take us long to catch up and reminisce on our glory days. Days filled with summer leagues, that I did not participate in, basketball tournaments that taught me the game at a rapid pace and endless summers at the gym and wearing short uniform shorts; not very cute, not very cute at all, but we made it work. Check out this  photo?

photo from the yearbook taken by segal majestic

 I have to tell you, I did not intentionally choose to play basketball, it chose me. I just happened to be one of two taller girls walking down the hall, who was approach by three shorties each about 5"2. Apparently, all the girls who tried out for the JV team measured around 5'2. That's how I came to basketball, they needed some height. Knowledge of the game was a whole other story. This is sort of sad and funny at the same time so listen, what I'm about to tell you goes no further than here ok? during one our games, I had an amazing steal. I  dribbled the ball all the way down the court, the crowd was going wild, screaming my name, yelling frantically. I was pumped! the cheers only encouraged me to give a bit more effort, as I slowed down to finish the lay up, I missed.... and the crowd went wild. Instantly, I was confused, I look up at the crowd and everyone appeared happy, then I looked down at my coach who just about snapped my head off.


I dribbled down the court and shot the ball in at the opponents basket. Yah, I did, I missed, what does it matter? It was in the past.  OK?


I also visited my former basketball coach and father of one of the ladies mentioned above. You know it didn't take long before the story of the near fatal shot almost heard around the world to come up. Yeah, it's a joke now, yes, it IS!. After some brief hellos and introduction of my family we traveled back in time. The year books came out, old pics and you would not guess what else surfaced; an old VHS recording of some of our games. Oh snap!!!

buddy

Listen, it's one thing to tell your kids stories of your greatness but it's a whole other story when evidence shows up to dispute of verify those stories. There were times when I added a little extra to the story each time I told or retold it. Ok, I did, I added a little bit every time. This reminds me of a short story I will share with you now. The other day my 9 year old wrote an entry in his summer journal about his dog buddy, yes the poser up to the right. This kid wrote some elaborate story about forgetting to take the dog out and that I woke him up at 11pm to walk the dog. He went into great details about being scared but the dog did a great job protecting him. I said, little guy when did this happen? He said, " it didn't, but you have to keep it interesting." hmmmmmm?



The summer of 1989 was spent in Dominica, it was one of my best  vacations ever. I traveled with my basketball.  I could barely sleep the first night. In the morning I got dressed in my sweats, bball in hand and went on the road to find a pick up game. I searched high and low, low and high, sideways, frontways, backwards, forwards and I could not find a game, but by now I am burning up cause it was hot. I was so hot, I was about to either faint or melt. Yes, I had on a hooded sweatshirt as well.


I had to go change,  as I approached the home stretched, I stopped to visit with a good friend. As soon as he saw me he asked, guhl wah a big girl like you walking around with a bouncing ball for? Of course, I said it was a basketball, he said, wha basketball dat, gul nobody doh playing dat around here, wha foolness dat? Go by the old school and play netball with them order gurls. Netball? what is netball? Bor wha I hearing dere nor? you doh know wha netball...he didn't even finish the question, he was so disgusted in a funny but serious way. No, I don't, and how come you don't know about basketball? I asked. He answered my question with a question, bor how old you be? I said 16. SIXTEEN?, stupppeeesss, gurl put dong da ball dere. You doh fine you too old for dat? Nor man, fine something else to do.

Men's basketball team, photographer Lenard Augustine (maybe)

They weren't ready yet. Netball was all the rage,  I took my ball, put it away and got into watching and tried with all my might to learn the game of netball. I found it to be very much like a version of basketball without dribbling or a lot of running.  Everyone seemed to love it except me, I don't know if it was in response to not being able to play but I did NOT embrace it. 

After spending some time watching the VHS game clips, my kids turned and looked at me their with eyes glossed over, mouth gaping, with arms open wide to embrace me apologetically, mumbling, mommy, you were good, you were really good! Ok so I wished that's what they said,  Instead, they did give me a couple high fives and cheered for their mom who had a few great moves on the bee ball court. Nothing like reliving the glory days and walking away more gloriously than I did all those years ago. Now I am a champion to my gang. A Champion!


One more thing, a year after I left, I found out that the village did get into basketball and was very well represented by an awesome mens basketball team that dominated the courts and pulverized their opponents. How could they not? I mean, Mr. Sixfootplus was on the team, of course they were super? I'm just saying.  You know what? yes, I take credit for introducing basketball to the village. Ok, how about partial credit? none? I tried. 

Ode to a Super Principal

There was a lady, a special lady principal who had big dreams and goals for her students of the Wesley Government School. She had a large vocabulary, and enunciated words the way I've never heard words spoken before. Her face expressed every letter of the word as it came out of her mouth. Her lips curled to capture and form all the sounds every word made. I've never witnessed anything since. I don't think.

She quoted quotes, made up quotes, wrote quotes, and re-worded quotes. I still remember when a chatty church school house of about 300 kids would be loud, much too loud for her tolerance she would quote, "empty vessels make the most noise." A church school house full of students instantly became quiet following the corrective lash. She quoted the bible, prayed the bible, and memorized whole chapters of bible and expected the same of her students. To this day, I still remember Psalm 121, "I will lift up mine eyes onto the hills from whence cometh my health, my health cometh from the Lord......." . 

She made her students sing songs. Songs that I had never heard before. Teachers, Aspey and Walford would lead the singing. We learned and sang songs by, Simon and Garfunkel, Hello darkness my old friend, I've come to talk to you again, because a vision softly creeping. Left it seeds while I was sleeping, and vision that was planted in my brain still remain, and echo in sound of silence." Yes, the title of that song, was/is Sound of Silence. Who can forget the instructing duos lessons on singing, Sammy Dead...first couple verses as I remember them goes like this, "ah nuh teef sammy teef mek dem kill um, uh huh! ah nuh teef sammy teef mek dem kill um, uh huh, but ah grudgeful, dem grudgeful, kill sammy." Please join in as you remember the words..Sammy plant piece ah corn dong ah corna...another song we learned was, "I'd like to teach the World to sing in perfect harmony, I'd like to hold it in my hand and keep it company," by, I don't know the artist will add after I Google it Jan Howard.


Whenever we left school at noon for lunch, we'd pray a prayer of  blessing over our food that was at home. We would run through the prayer like this, "we thank de Lord for dis hour food bor more because of JesusChrist, let manna too"..STOP! STOP! STOP! HOLD IT! "A prayer is NOT a race! take your time and speak, say it again." she'd say, we'd say it again, and again and again, until hunger was no longer the reason we were racing through the prayer. By the time we were done she had taken up a good half hour of our lunch time. 


I should've mentioned this earlier. When we arrived for school in the morning she'd make us sing the doxology, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow, praise him all screatures here below," STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! SCREATURES? she'd ask with great fury, WHAT ARE SCREATURES? we didn't care what screatures were, all that was important is that it sound beautifully and right when we sang it in the verse.  She'd make us sing it over, and over and over and over again. I don't know if we had some wise guys who would purposely repeat screatures or a few forgetful souls who, out off habit kept repeating screatures over and over again. 

How could one forget the doxology? It came after prayers, Psalms and the National Anthem was sung. 


How could I have forgotten the National Anthem? "Isle of Beauty, Isle of splendor, Isle to allsosweet and fair, all must surely gaze in wonder at thy gifts so rich and rare.....Dominica, God hath bless thee with aclimbebegnin and bright...pastures green and flow'rs of beauty......."  Boy! oh Boy! oh Boy! There was something about us singing these verses that would set her off. We would sing flowers of beauty and she DID NOT want to hear that. She wanted us the sing flow'rs of beauty. Our young minds just wouldn't do it cause to us its flowers and not flow'rs cause we've never spoken old English before and that just took us forever to get right. I think we spent our entire morning going over that part again and again. By the time we were done it was lunch time. OK. maybe not, but it surely felt like it. 
She would make us sing the National Anthem until I would become light headed, well I didn't, but thinking about it right now makes me light headed.

When it was time to leave for school for the day we would sign our last and final song of the day, "now the day is over, night is drawing nigh, shadows o'er the evening, still across the sky." I feel sleepy just singing it right now, cause I really felt like the day was truly over. 


I'm the first one to complain about my commute but our Lady principal made a daily commute from Marigot to Wesley and back each and everyday. She didn't have her own transportation and she did that for years and was always on time except maybe twice only because she couldn't get a ride. Wow! who gave her that assignment? Didn't Marigot have a school where she could've been the principal? Her commute would've been so much closer and easier. I almost forgot to mention, she had her nephew with her as well doing the same commute all these years. A young smiley face, pleasant, kind and gracious young guy, who didn't have much friends in the village at first but he was really one of the nicest, smiliest guys ever!


My last memory of this stern, selfless and committed Principal was on a field to her house in Marigot that she organized for us students. Initially, I wasn't going, not because I decided I wasn't going to go but I was so adventurous, I had to make sure I didn't take on any new adventures that would cause me to miss out. Simple I had to be good for a minute. It was one of the best school days I've ever had, she fed and hosted us. I don't remember much except the grapefruit juice was delish.  


I honor you, Mrs. Samuel for striving for and demanding excellence from your students. Your standards were certainly very high and may have seem a difficult expectation at the time. I am one of many who undoubtedly have been influenced by you. You've left your mark.   If you have a memory and would like to share please do so.

My Champion

The other day our 9 year old played in not his first but his second championship basketball game, he's only been playing for two seasons, good right? no, he's a hard worker, who loves basketball and just ends up with the best teammates ever. He's kind, believes in fairness, loves junk food, has a great head of hair, is extremely inquisitive, walks on his tippy toes and is a fabulous re-bounder. The other day after a game, he was given a compliment that he was the best re-bounder on his team. He was so offended by the compliment; he felt it was an insult to his teammates who play equally as hard.


As we drove to the club where he would face the team they beat twice in the regular season, needless to say he was pumped. He was getting advice from the left from his sister, from the right from his brother, from the back from his other brother, diagonally from his dad, from in front from his mom. He was pumped, we were pumped! It was going to be exciting as all his games are. Then his big sis who also plays basketball held his arm, looked him directly in the eye and said, all you have to do is your best, that's all you have to do. When the game is over, no matter what the outcome, you can walk off the court knowing that you've done your best." All coaching ended after that bit of advice.


From the moment our champion blue devil stepped onto the court the action was non stop. He was rebounding, stealing, shooting, grabbing, falling, dribbling, blocking shots, turning the ball over, calling for the ball, passing, high fiving and playing a defense that would shut Kobe and Lebron down, hands down. Yes, there are other members on the team and they are very talented, excellent players, but he's the only one that's my child hence, my focus.


It was his killer defense that provoked the player he was guarding to turn on him physically. This kid either the same age or maybe 10 but not older, began pushing, elbowing, and two hand jabbing our baby in the middle of his back. Notice how he went from champion to "our baby" ahahahaha, at first momma just chucked it up to maybe a hand check that was a bit aggressive, but after two, four, six times of the same thing and no whistle? momma's temperature immediately shot to no lower than 100 degrees. Still undeterred, our champion pushed through playing a more intense defense as the game was within two points scoring point for point at each end, oh it was intense, I know! 9 and 10 year olds? Who knew kids played basketball so well at this age. I mean they were shooting jumpers, three points, pump faking, the works.


The game was at, I think, maybe the 6:27 minute mark when one jab in particular brought out the Momma Mufasa and the female wolverine in me all at the same time, my internal temperature rose to about 107/108 degrees Fahrenheit immediately. I was about to either passout or wolf out.


It was then, the trumpet within better known as my voice bellowed for the ref to check the pushing and jabbing my son was repeatedly receiving from this other kid. Still, no whistle then I felt the claws I didn't know I had come out. All I saw was red as my head turned in the direction where this kid's parents sat. It was during this time as I was seeing red, everything also began moving in slow motion. As the world around me suddenly slowed down, the last and final break the camel's back jab came almost pushing our champion down as he was about to intercept a pass and then it think I wolfed out.


I would like to say my tone was kind and pleasing with a hint of volume to it, but it was NOT!  I know, once the ref heard my command to check the pushing, those words in his ears must've sounded and felt like he had received a thousand acidic laced lashes across his back. I think everyone in the gym including the kids heard me.


Thank the Lord, because it was also during this time I heard a voice, God's voice sounding,  very much like Mufasa's in my head saying, "rememba whooo you ah! I don't know how it happened, but as the world began moving in fast forward or at regular speed again, the clock was now at 2:47, I was on my feet with an internal temperature of about 110 degrees trying to hold it together for our champion, try very hard to model adult behavior for all the kids present especially our kids, as well as learning that our kids will face challenges other than facing the next best team on the league within their age bracket on the basketball court in life.

Championship award

Our champion's team lost the game by 4 points, all the kids received awards and were congratulated. When I got to the car I saw that he was crying. After some quiet time he asked, mommy did you see my defense? did you see how many rebounds I had?  did you see when my team mate scored that basket, did you see the amazing pass my teammate made at the last second? Not once did he mentioned that he was pushed by the kid that caused my temperature to rise. When his siblings brought it up, his response was yeah, I know, that kid kept pushing me but did you see my defense? Then he said, I am so tired, I played so hard, can we go get ice-cream to celebrate? and with that, we stood in the best soft serve ice cream line in the area for about 15 minutes.


What a champion! He didn't even know nor had a clue that his mom was about to pass out from internal overheating in the stands. At the end of the game, I did walk over to the kid's parents to let them know, that their son IS indeed an excellent ball player and congratulated them on the win. It was also at this time that  apologies were exchanged for becoming overly emotionally involved in the game.

Back to School Wash Out

For some of you, the title alone brings back violent memories of a parent coming at you 3D with the world's largest table spoon, with a command of OPEN!!!!!!! Listen, our memories would not exist had we spent our summers thinking about the dreaded "wash out" that would come at the end of summer we wouldn't eaten  anything...well, I wouldn't have eaten half the things I did. "Wash Out," a regimen of cleansing medicines that included but not limited to, bitters, say-nah, castor oil, worm medicine, and cod liver oils for some. Please share if yours had some other types of meds. that i did not include..Some of you may get a little sick from all the nostalgia but hang in there. 

The day school let out or was over and all the hegas was out of the way, that's when summer feast for me was in full swing. Okay maybe summer type feast was always in season for me, that's when summer feasting for some began. Ok, let's get it out of the way now, I would never use the word greedy and definitely not HAG, to describe my childhood interest in food. I would say, I liked to experience the food family.  Summer afforded me the opportunity to experience it more than any other time of year with Christmas being the one and only exception. I would definitely, cross over into the over indulgence category, ONLY during Christmas. 


Summer? wow!one only had to think of what was in season and wishes would come true. For instance, if Kenip was in season, then BABES was the go to girl.   I remember, before I could even think of making it to BABES I had several stops to make, like raiding Khancoo or Cooksie plum trees. Khancoo plum was a different kind of plum, if his plum had a little purple line on it? well then, the whole plum was ripe. It wasn't ripe to you? hmmmm...I wondered why my teeth would turn a nice shade of brown, yours too? who cares, it was ripe. And who can forget picking some green SOUR gooseberries off of Mr. Dent's tree? huh?


Some of you probably used to hit up the farine pit if it was open for some bamboola, or farine. I don't think I used to go to the farine pit often, only when I had to go to Mr. Tyoleh to make a message and the farine pit just happened... to be on my way, since I was coming from the church street direction. Yep, it was right in my path.  I just remembered, I sometimes would end up in bottom Wesley to visit family right around lunch time, with  the hungriest child in the village look on my face, it was summer people, oh I did that all year long come to think of it. anyways...


If the way home was toward the four-road, then ways parted at this point. It was here where most friends said their summer good byes and went their separate ways..well until it crossed a short time later. People our village was and is small, we probably saw each other a few hours later, this is about summer ok, role with me. To those heading towards Eden Road a solid marsh was exchanged. I guess that meant bye, and those heading up church road a proud, hal you skin was the exchange!...ok! OKAY!! so I exaggerated a tiny bit. All I know is that those heading up the road towards central square kindly said with a smile, see you later. ok! okay, geez...so may be we said Marsh, or Hal your skin, back.....I really don't remember......the second parting of ways came at the ontop road intersection....Whoa!!I am suddenly reminded of the dreaded stoning I would get by a Mr. Unnamed..at that very intersection almost yearly....wow!.


 OKay, listen, I don't know if many of you remember the days when MOPO was the place to be.  It was the only open field area in the village with two major mango trees, two, maybe three guava fields, the health center and Ma Ahl- icepops and frozen joys, joyce. It was a short jog away from Murphy's -tambrine balls, Ms. Emma breadfruit, Mr. Cyrus cherries and Ma Daytoush- pomceterre. Oh, Sundays, were they days to get some pomceterre. I don't know if Ma Daytoush had open Sundays or what? but her sons or some others would climb the tree and shake, shake shake the sugar apple? star apple? heck pomceterre and the masses would hit the ground fighting abolow, finding snakes and whatever else was in the way of them getting their beloved and juicy pomcetere.


Ma Datousch home was a fruit lovers paradise, they had Mami, guava in the back and plum behind the kitchen. A short walk to the left,  one could also feast on Miss Daisy's Madway mango and if you were so moved,  you could've taken the short cut toward ten shilling hill to get some of the Tin mango on Ten Shillinghill, or Santana's guava or sour sop; and since you are right on Battice road, one could just hang out in Mr. Onnis (Ernest) garden and enjoy a variety of mangoes...you mean it wasn't free?  Well, if that wasn't your thing then a short visit to Mr. Horatious for some passion fruit or some grafted, long or another kind of mango was it.

photo by Revelyn St. John

Yes? Yes! Yes, I was talking about MOPO! Remember when the second police building in the back was like a place of affluence one dared to tread? oh yeah it was fenced so you really couldn't go in freely. To the very back of the second building was a grassy open area, it was here many would gather to stone the liqa mango tree that was always loaded during the summer months. I remember grown men would climb that tree and a short time later all you would hear is LAYZAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!


It was at this same open place at the second building where I would sneak off to taste or attempt to taste one of Miss Morine cashews. Still don't know what hers taste like cause, I was never ever successful, that lady's radar was better than any monitoring system I've read about in the U.S. She was good. I would shamefacedly walk up the little short cut from her house back to the police station area where a couple of things would be going on, like some of the best mega roundas matches.


As i've said before, I am not a bragadocious person but I used to be a GOOD roundas playa. I was neva on any team why? you ask...well it because some areas in the village already had their top players and I guess I was never in that category because I was too young, yeah, that's why. moving along.....


MOPO, was the place with the biggest guava fields in-front of and behind the health center. Psssh, stories of needles, scare me? who me? no way! Behind the health center had big breed guavas and needle or not, I HAD to be the one to pick it. There was one challenger who was better in conquering the guava fields than I. She had like a ripe guava sensor built into her sense of smell. When I wanted more than the regular amount, she was my ace.


It was in MOPO, before they put all the mocab in the TIN mango root that the stoning champions would come out to test their strength and aim. The tree was tall and not very wide like the liqa tree. I remember grown men throwing stones with such strength and precision that one would hear the wwrrrrrrrrhhh sound from the power  of their throw. Impressed, I am now as I recall the memory, but stupid and greedy I was then, because I never gave thought to letting the stone drop before I sprinted under the tree to make sure I grabbed my fair share of mangoes even if it meant me possibly getting a burse boss head in the process. Oh yeah, that did happen once but I will NOT go into details at this time. 

photo by Taban Telemaque

photo by Isaiah Joseph

I haven't even talked about the pawdo trips, stoning bomarie, Ms. Gladys Ice Cream, Ms. Mazie pudding, Docounah, Ms. Tourist Gooseberry, fine cake, hard cake, pineapple, sweet sop, sour sop, watermelon, eating breadnut, veeoh, oh boy, this reminds me of a time when we thought the river had taken one of our friends, will post another time, grapefruit, oranges, tangerines, sucking cacao, all make up the memories of summer foods that leads to the washing out  regime as we prepared to go back to school.

photo by Murphy Matthew

As you and I listen to the moaning and groaning of our kids not looking forward to returning to school, I  realize a few things.. 1) their limited Caribbean childhood experience and.. 2) I don't understand the complaints as the transition from summer to back to school seems so easy, yet they still complain.  Oh well, don't think I'd much like having to run to the bathroom to help them anyways.

The Tooth Fairy

About two maybe three weeks ago, our six year old lost one front tooth and listen, I have to tell you,  I thought his one missing tooth smile was the cutest thing a mom could ever lay eyes on, until about five days later he lost the neighboring front tooth. His toothless mouth is so funny and cute it brings a smile to my face  whenever he opens his mouth.

missing both

Everyone was so excited, we tend to make a big deal around here. We were all so excited, his big sis asked, are you going to put your tooth teeth under your pillow so that the tooth fairy will leave you a dollar?" to that he responded,  the last time, Ii put my tooth under the pillow daddy came in and took it and left a dollar..... Uhhhmmmmm!~) Right away we knew daddy was playing tooth fairy and got caught so we all went into damage control mode, cause our 6 year old had given up on the tooth fairy. We explained that the tooth fairy really isn't daddy; we told him it just so happened that the tooth fairy on assignment must looked just like daddy, we added, you didn't get a good look cause it was nighttime and it was dark.   To that she sarcastically responded, it was in the daytime. Crushed again in our attempts to reassure him that the tooth fairy does exist. Still in damage control mode we quickly added,  daddy was trying to help, he thought the tooth fairy might be a little busy and so he wanted to be like Dwayne the Rock Johnson in the Disney movie, Tooth Fairy.


To that he looked at us with great suspicion. He hesitantly took his tooth, eying us in disbelief as he left the kitchen to head up to his room. Dads, you gotta love them and give them their due respect cause they create the memories that last a lifetime.


I wonder if Mr. Sixfootplus was wearing a tutu? hmmmmm? I'll try to remember to ask.. It was in the daytime. ahahhahahahhaa, who knew?

Song Interpretation 1

Song Interpretation

Here we are again...some songs were not and aren't meant to be sung by those, especially those with good intentions who only end up murdering the lyrics and words in the process. This song a lovely and beautiful expression of love to those in the throws of romance. This song speaks to the heart the way no modern artist can express it; Journey's Open Arms, expresses words that fail the mouths of most. This song can touch places in our hearts that no other feeling but that of lust, I mean love can. I especially, LOVE the Boyz II Men version, even they couldn't stop me from the inevitable.

I remember when I was dating Mr. Sixfootplus, when he lived in a distant country and far, far away land more than 1200 miles away...Canada, heartache pains me as I type and recall our once long distance from each other. I, an in love helpless romantic, lost in the suburbs of DC area longed to say lovely things to him that only this song could. I would get sick just thinking of combining words to paint the picture that my heart was feeling but before I could I had to make sure I had a booom box that had both a record and playback button and a blank cassette tape. 

Laughing right now you are? well you-tube and texting did not exist between 92-96 and if it did? I didn't know about it cause I was too busy listening to the DJ or calling the radio station asking the DJ to play Journey's Open Arms by Mariah Carey. I couldn't go hang out with friends, go play basketball or even go to church... for fear of missing when the song would come on. 

I'd practice pushing the record button at the right time, test the  recording with my voice to make sure the tape and recorder was working just to make sure that I wouldn't miss a note. Finally, the DJ would come on to say coming up next, Journey's Open Arms.  After waiting through what seemed like an eternity of advertising, he'd  announce the song and instead of just letting the song play, he'd talk for at least 10 seconds into the song as it played, URGGGG!!!! DJ choke yourself I wanted to say but I couldn't cause I'd be heard on the tape, so I had to record the DJ words and song, so much for making it seemed like I didn't record it off the radio.

As the song played I would sign the words from within my soul, after I was done recording, you guessed it, yes, with the DJ cutting in before the song was completely finished I would play back and sing at the top of my voice. 

"So now I come to you with velvet arms, no need to hide,, believe what I say, so here I am with velvet arms hoping you'll see what your love means to me velvet arms."

Oh how I longed for Mr. Sixfootplus to hold me with velvet arms. Some nights as I drove from class the song would come on I'd pull up into the parking space in-front our home and I'd be sobbing, from being so in love with love and so in love with Mr. Sixfootplus who was so very far away and not close enough to hold me with velvet arms. Oh the heart brokenness of being in love. The sorrow of going home to feeling the ache of a distant love and not having not even a velvet pillow to hold on to. Tear drop! tear drop.

As I came to better understand the song and as love matured, I wanted to know more about the artists and what velvet arms was all about. I found out the artists were tight pants wearing, long haired talents with big vocals. I also wanted to know what velvet arms was all about so I bought a single (tape) with words, couldn't afford the CD. One had to pay a little extra to get the lyrics back then. 

You will not believe the shock I was faced with when I found out that "velvet arms" was not even a part of the song. I was STUNNED!!! to learn that all the days and months I sang, "velvet arms" around friends, in public, by myself, in the car, these words were nowhere to be found in the lyrics. Did I just buy a boot leg tape? why aren't the words included in the song? There must be a misprint. of all the bad copies to pick up I picked up one. In the place where velvet Arms should be were the words "Open Arms", what non-sense is this I thought! Slowly and hesitantly, I put my tape in the tape deck player of my car and waited until the part came on and I sang Open Arms instead of velvet arms and it seemed to make better sense. 

I was suddenly faced with the daunting question of, "what will happen to the need I've already created in my mind to be held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvet arms?" How would I be able to re-program my thoughts? Being held with or by Open Arms seemed so normal and regular and lacked the romance that velvet arms held.

To satisfy that need in my head, every now and then when I play the song that is now on my ipod, I sing velvet arms softly instead of Open Arms. 
All I can say is again we have another example of a love idea ruined by artists refusing to enunciate the words to their songs. I will NEVER, EVER erase the image imprinted in my mind of being held by Mr. Sixfootplus velvety arms!