Albatross Around Your Neck

My son was given a wonderful birthday gift today, a dictionary of idioms that not only defines over 700 idioms, but also their origins. So, we started flipping through and came across the idiom, "albatross around your neck". Alexander wasn't sure what an albatross was so I started singing the JD Edwards song of the same name which says, "Albatross, albatross, out over the ocean, over all the waves, he's taking off for hours, days after days, he goes wandering around, never coming down, simply is neat, he rarely takes a seat, albatross, albatross, birds of the sea!!!!" As soon as I starting singing it, Alexander's eyes lit up and he went, "Oh, yeah, yeah. I know what you mean!" So I started telling him about the albatross from Coleridge's "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" and how it's really not a good thing to a) kill an albatross or b) have one hanging around your neck. I guess that's why I get a bit leary when I see a dead seagull, or just have them flocking around me when I walk passed the chip truck downtown. They're not just "shit hawks"...they're omens of doom! So, I was going to read him "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" for a bed time story, but I don't have a copy of it at home. (To the library we go...)

But while I was mulling around my library I came across a book that I hadn't read since it was mandatory to read in my Can-lit course in university; "Nineteenth Century Canadian Stories". If you ever get a chance to read, "Old Man Savarin by E.W. Thompson, do so. And read it out loud, because it is a hilariously moralistic story which is impossible to read fluidly and with sophistication. Here's a little sampling:

"All right, Narcisse. If you goin' get drunk for lick me, I'll be goin' get drunk for lick you'- Canadien hain't nev' fool 'nuff for fight, M'sieu, only if dey is got drunk."

By the way, "Old Man Savarin" has nothing to do with albatross, except for the fact that it is a fishing story and there would most likely have been albatross or seagulls looming around the fishing nets. Alexander and I had a good laugh anyway while we read it. But I digress.....

So, it made me also think about the time I earned a t-shirt from my colleagues which reads, "Seagull Savior". It was lunch hour at the school where I work, and a couple of students ran up to me in the hallway screaming that a seagull was injured in the soccer field. I went back to my classroom and looked out the window and sure enough, there was a seagull sitting as still as could be, with other seagulls slowly circling. Did you know that the first thing the other birds do is peck out the weak seagull's eyes before they totally destroy him? I couldn't see that happen, so I grabbed one of the maintenance guys and we went on a rescue mission. We had a box and not a clue of what to do. The bird's wing was broken and I instantly started to cry. Poor bird. Every single man that I have told this story to said that I should have just "wrung it's neck and be done with it. After all, it's just a shithawk." But I just kept thinking that it's a living thing, and I'd certainly want help if I had a broken wing. That doesn't render a life useless in my books. So the bird was put in a box in the back of my truck with little breathe holes in the box, and a old bun from the cafeteria at the school. I would look in the box and it's beautiful yellow ringed eye would look back at me and I thought, "What the hell am I going to do with a seagull?" I made a few calls to the Ministry of Natural Resources and had a good talk with the vice principal of my school. Fortunately, she was an animal advocate as well, and we were willing to go down the road to Kenora to take this seagull to a bird healer. Then I was advised to take the bird to the MNR after school because they found someone that would take the bird for me. In the meantime, I still had two classes to teach that afternoon. I would randomly, unexpectedly burst out in tears, thinking of this darn bird. The students thought I was wacko (again) but listened to my story and continued to do their art projects. They were amazingly quiet that day. hahaha  At the end of the day, as I was driving home with the bird in my vehicle in a box with a bun, I thought, "You know, I could take this bird to my dad and he could just kill it for me and this will be all over with." I had seen him hunt before. Heck, I used to be a hunter myself, and had killed many a partridge in my day. But it had been a long, long time, and my philosophies had softened over the years. This made me cry some more. I chose to go home instead, with the bird, and gather myself before I went to the MNR. As I pulled in my driveway, a friend pulled in to the driveway next door. She was visiting the neighbour and also happened to work in a floral shop. The lightbulb went on. Hey! She's a florist and has to do deliveries all of the time! MAYBE SHE'LL DELIVER THIS BIRD TO THE MNR FOR ME!!! As I stood blubbering in the driveway explaining that I had a bird in a box with a bun, kind, kind Robin agreed to take the bird to the MNR. Thank God I didn't have to be a blubbering fool yet again. Instead I ran upstairs and wrote a poem about the experience. I'll save you all from it, but yes, arty, dramatic, animal loving Rhonda ran home and wrote a poem about a broken bird. Supposedly the bird made it to Kenora and was healed, but I asked that I not be told either way. I want to believe that this seagull is in a happy, french fry laden seagull utopia, where he is accepted with his apparent differences.

"Albatross" by the JD Edwards Band

Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge