Ear Worms

I can't get rid of my latest ear worm. You know what those are, don't you? The annoying songs that echo through your brain every waking moment.

I remember years ago catching a new-fatal ear worm on a cross-country from between SFO and LGA. Five rows in front of me was an adorable child who sang an unadorable song for the entire flight. It took weeks to get "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" out of my mind. You can't ask a mother to make her child be quiet. I wanted to, but it wouldn't work.

A couple of weeks ago I linked a nine-minute video to my Facebook account. No cuts, no splices, just nine minutes of Don MacLean's "American Pie." Yup, took a week to get rid of it. How did I do it? I bumped "American Pie" with the latest ear worm.

I'm reading an advanced reader copy of Sharyn McCrumb's newest ballad novel. When I said I'd review it, I never, ever thought that "Tom Dooley" would about drive me nuts. Don't get me wrong. The book is excellent, and I'm a big fan of my old Kingston Trio song. Just not all day.

I played a great joke on an elevator full of obnoxious strangers in midtown New York once. A group of tourists violated the elevator code: No talking. Locals in New York ignore everyone else in an elevator. You could be standing next to Paul McCartney, and you wouldn't say a thing. Just not done. Several locals hissed at the tourists, but nothing stopped their incessant yapping. When I got off, I left them an ear worm. I started singing "It's a Small World After All." Off key. Loudly. And I leave you with that little ear worm, because it is a small world, after all.