As of this week, "Little Boxes," by Malvina Reynolds, is Lucia's favorite song. Reynolds wrote the song in 1962 as a criticism of suburban sprawl and the most mundane aspects of middle class values. Pete Seeger's cover of "Little Boxes" is probably the most popular. Here are Reynolds' lyrics:
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky,
Little boxes, little boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses
All go to the university,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
And there's doctors and there's lawyers
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf-course,
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children,
And the children go to school.
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
And they all get put in boxes
And they all come out the same.
And the boys go into business,
And marry, and raise a family,
And they all get put in boxes,
Little boxes, all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same.
--Malvina Reynolds
When I play the song on the guitar for Lucia, I'm tempted to make the "little boxes" relevant to the modern-day townhouses popping up all over our neighborhood: "There's a beige one, and a beige one, and a beige one, and a BEIGE one...." However, I suspect that the different colors are what Lucia likes best about the song. Warning: this song is an earworm.* Once you get it stuck in your head, it's hard to change tunes. Speaking of earworms, MotherReader is completely to blame for introducing me to Bowling For Soup's "1985". In her defense, it's a good song. Still, my brain has been chewing on it since March.
While I'm singing "Little Boxes," it's easy to think, "Other people may live in little boxes, but I don't." Hah. Throughout my 35 years, I've blended in sometimes and other times have stuck out. Many of times I've stuck out have been miserable. The one week in 6th grade in which I wore designer jeans like "everyone else's" designer jeans. By the end of the week, there was some whispering and jeering about how I'd worn the same pair of jeans every day (I had). I snidely told them, "No, I have three other pairs of the same kind of jeans in my closet." They believed me. They actually believed me. I had nothing but contempt for them. I also felt a little sorry for myself (as if from a distance) because I'd wanted to blend in so badly.
Times changed. I had peers who thought it was cool to like bands that no one else knew about. Once those bands found commercial success, any one who learned about the bands afterward was just following the mainstream.
Yawn. "Little boxes, little boxes, little boxes all the same." But hey, I'm fine with living in a little box, as long as it's my little box, and I get to decorate it how I like. I guess I'm not heading for the gated community up the hill any time soon.
*I just found out that the Portuguese term for a song getting stuck in one's head is called chiclete de ouvido, or "ear chewing-gum."
