People who need people are the LUCKIEST people…

Confession:

Television has literally ruined me for company. No, seriously. You can’t take me anywhere. It’s a burden TGIM bears with fortitude, I’ll give him that.

How has television ruined me, you ask? Well, allow me to illustrate:

The other night I found myself in a darkened high school auditorium with several hundred other proud parents, enjoying a high school choir concert in which my son sang with several other elementary-aged students hand-picked from schools in the area. Yes, I said enjoying. I know, right? No one was more surprised than I was, I assure you. I was overwhelmed with motherly pride, you see. They were actually GOOD. And seeing my baby boy up there just singing his little heart out might have made me—perhaps!—a little misty-eyed. What?! Am I made of stone?! If you prick me, do I not bleed?! So just STEP. OFF.

So there I sat with hundreds of other parent, choked up, fighting a losing battle with my tear ducts, when they moved into the grand finale–a neat little countermelody piece performed by the kids and accompanied by the entire ensemble of high school choirs.

Oh, well that’s just great. I thought. Why didn’t I bring tissue?! Stupid. STUPID!

(As an aside, mentally castigating oneself apparently is very effective in curtailing embarrassing crying fits. FYI.)

As the two conductors raised their hands and the music swelled, an audible hush whipped through the auditorium. The expectation for greatness was palpable.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off Tanner as he and his classmates began to sing. It was so beautiful, so melodic! And the high school choirs joined in with their song and it was so beautiful and I was overwhelmed with the sheer—

Hold the phone. Are they singing I Believe?

“I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows…”

Without any kind of warning whatsoever, a giggle fit hit me, which of course, totally ruined the viewing experience for me… and likely for the parents who kept shooting dirty looks my way, which… rude.

Here’s the part which explains how television ruined me for company. Oh, yes. You thought I forgot, didn’t you? Admit it! You were all, “Oh! Cat’s going off on a tangent again! Ha! Ha! That silly Cat! She just gets all crazy with the verbiage and totally looses her train of thought! Woo!” But I didn’t. So there.

Because what was supposed to be a beautiful song (and it was beautiful—thank goodness for video) triggered a two-decade-old memory of a hilarious Laverne and Shirley episode in which Shirley (or was it Laverne?) sings the same song—poorly! complete with hand gestures!—while dressed in some crazy leotard flower costume.

“I believe that somewhere in the darkest night, a candle gloooooooooows!”

I looked around for someone to share the joke with, forgetting I was there by myself. In retrospect, this was a GOOD thing, as I was able to quickly grow up and shake it off. Mostly.

When I got home, I immediately rang up my mom and explained that I had just been to Tanner’s concert.

“What is the first thing that pops into your head when you hear the song that goes, ‘I believe for every drop of rain that falls, a flower grows’?”

“I Believe? Oh, that’s a beautiful song.”

I have to admit, I was disappointed. I had been hoping that she would have had a similar experience. I mean, what kind of person can sit giggling through a heartfelt rendition of a song like “I believe”?! Sung by impressionable small children! And sensitive teenagers! A person unfit for company, that’s who!

Embarrassed by my immaturity, I explained what had happened. And wouldn’t you know it? My momma began to laugh.

“Oh! That’s right! Don’t feel bad. Every time I hear the song People all I can hear is Carol Burnett belting out ‘People! People who need people are the luuuuuckiest people in the woooooooooooooooooooorld!’” Then my mom laughed so enthusiastically I had to hold the phone away from my ear. Which isn’t unusual, actually, but I thought I’d mention it. “Oh! She was horrible!”

This of course reminded me that the first thing that usually comes to mind when someone mentions Gone With the Wind is the Went With the Wind sketch Carol Burnett did—as Scarlett—where she gracefully descended a staircase in a dress made of drapes… with the curtain rod across her shoulders. Hoo! Breaks me up every time! Totally ruins that moment in the movie, I tell you what. Well, it’s either that memory or the thought of Kermit’s famous “If frog’s couldn’t hop, I’d be gone with the Schwinn!” CLASSIC.

Hmm… come to think of it, I suppose you could say that this whole inappropriate-laughter-triggered-by-decades-old-memories-of-tv-shows-and-variety-hours thing is hereditary. So, technically… television AND my momma have ruined me for company.

Eh. What can you do?

You can’t argue DNA.