In preschool I had an imaginary friend. What a relief, you’re thinking, I thought he was about to introduce me to a current imaginary friend.
The name? I once explained this during a “go around the room and say your name and something weird about yourself” moment in a class of 30 people in college, so having it on a website really doesn’t bother me. Should make more sense here however:
Bronxville (first name): my dad grew up in Bronxville. As a kid, I heard stories about and visited relatives in Bronxville. Thus, Bronxville he was christened.
Lemuth: I liked lemurs because of a children’s TV show called “Zoboomafoo,” with two guys backpacking around and there were safari animal puppets. Why the r became th I don’t know…all part of the preschool charm.
What else happened in preschool? Quite a bit of romance. I became obsessed with a blond girl called “Bronwyn.” If that name doesn’t sound blond, then Art, Brigid, and Solomonthoyâ probably don’t sound blond to you either. As a fellow blond, I was enamored by her sheer amount of blond, other people’s response to her amount of blond, and the fact that blond. It’s worth mentioning that as a preschooler the only distinction I really had between men and women was hair length, a belief system that makes sense when in preschool.
This inspired my first song. You heard that correctly. The cashier girls at the local grocery store often possessed lots of long hair, and I wrote a song called “$6.99.” That is legitimately the title. Here are the lyrics:
six ninety nine, six ninety nine, six ninety nine, please. That’s six ninety nine, six ninety nine, six ninety nine please.
This amazing song was based on their asking for prices. There was another song about the trains in town, but I don’t have rights to that. To help you know me even better than you already do, which is now way too much, I once said at a high school coffee house comedy performance, “I was in a band in preschool. Drummer died of an animal cracker overdose.” The fact that that joke went over just fine, even with parents, should give you an idea of what my school was like.
Another preschool romance: Mrs. Caraduda. I have no idea if that’s her name. A short-haired (what a change of tact!) teacher at the school, I apparently talked about her as well. Maybe I was enamored with her sheer lack of hair, and wanted to know more.
No idea how to explain more than this. Have a great day.
Any weird childhood behavior you want to share? Comment away. Anonymity might be advised.