Another Useless Skill

I have alot of utterly useless skills. I can belch loudly on command. I can skip backwards. I can put my hand clenched in a fist completely in my mouth (that's a great party trick--men love it). I can recite the full menu from Denny's (only because I worked there for many years on the graveyard shift while I was in college). I do a great Quasimodo imitation. And the greatest useless skill of all? I have an unparalleled memory for television theme songs.

This last particular useless skill has limited value. If there's an impromptu sing along of the "Gilligan's Island" theme song during a business dinner, I'm so there. And I'm never the one who forgets the third line in the second verse by mouthing "something, something, something" waiting to get to the more familiar chorus. As with the "Gilligan's Island" theme, it's important to be specific as to the two versions. That is:

1. "...the movie star...the professor and Mary Ann, here on Gilligan's Isle!"
or
2."...the movie star..and the rest, here on Gilligan's Isle!"

I strive for certain perfection.

Once in a while Fang will say to me, "I'll give you eight dollars if you can sing all the words to 'Petticoat Junction'." That's all I need to hear before I blurt out, "Well there goes Uncle Joe, he's moving kinda slow at the junction..Petticoat Junction." It's a disease, people.

I must have watched a lot of television in my youth because my useless selective memory retains an awful lot of theme songs. I could easily spout the words to "The Jeffersons" or "Maude" or "The Courtship of Eddie's Father" or anything you like from the 70s era. Or the 80s. Or God help me, the 90s. I don't remember watching many of these shows yet somehow in an idiot savant kinda way, I seem to know the words. I was quizzed on "Mr. Ed" recently and I suddenly heard my voice bursting into song saying, "A horse is a horse, of course, of course." Freaky.

For those theme songs that don't have lyrics, I still have the melody down and can hum or voice as well as croak out lyrics. I did myself particularly proud recently when I was challenged to hum the theme song from "Room 222." Oh, please. Amateur hour. It was cake.

The only other person I've ever met who has the same capacity is my old pal Jewels. All it takes is for him to burst into the opening line of one of these songs and I am utterly in. Occasionally when I worked with him in the New York office he would come into my office, drape his frame languidly along the door frame and start an easy refrain:

Good Times. Any time you meet a payment.
(Pause. He continues)
Good Times. Any time you need a friend.
(Now I'm waiting for it)
Good Times. Any time you're out from under.
(I can't wait to jump in. Now we sing this next bit together, voce marcato)
Not getting hassled, not getting hustled.
(The imaginary music swells, the delivery--fortissimo!!)
Keepin' your head above water,
Making a wave when you can.
Temporary lay offs. Good Times.
Easy credit rip offs.Good Times.
Scratchin' and surviving. Good Times.
Hangin in a chow line. Good Times.
Ain't we lucky we got 'em. Good Times.

And on that final "good times" lyric, Jewels always goes for the high C and a Mariah Carey worthy scat. God bless him.

Tonight when I got home from work (after a hellish 2+ hour commute) Fang assaulted me with an unexpected challenge. "I'll give you nine dollars and 23 cents if you can remember the theme to 'The Big Valley'." Oh, I actually had to think for a second.

I went into the bedroom to change my clothes and suddenly like a voice from heaven, the notes came to me in all it's symphonic and brassy brilliance. Inspired, I rushed back to the living room and clad only in bra and sweat pants, I proceeded to sing out the entire melody to "The Big Valley" to Fang. He actually seemed impressed.

By the way he never actually pays me the arbitrary amounts he promises. I just add it to the martial bank.

Like I said, a useless skill.