Full Moon December Write-Up Date: 12/8/00
Hare: Steve Yoman
Start: Pomona Fountain, Plaza Hotel
On-In: Ellen O'Dees
Scribe: Crazy Bob

Last December, hmmmmmm......... I don't take notes, mental or otherwise, and that is rapidly becoming a big problem. Last December is like, well, it's like last year. Not to be trite. Frankly speaking, it wouldn't matter if the last full moon cycle hadn't straddled the millennium, I still couldn't tell you where we landed 28 days ago. But I vaguely recall that the majority arrived safely, in due time. I don't remember what we talked about, sang, ate, or if anyone left behind articles of clothing, or at least an accessory that Daniel could itemize in some late-night bulletin (although one among us probably did). I believe we rambled through the park (Central), there was a dusting of snow, and we ended at Ellen O'Dees

Steve was the hare. That's good to put in writing. So there it is. I don't know what scribes do when they don't have notes. Back in the day, I didn't need notes. In those halcyon years, I could absorb the youthful emotion and wisdom of those surrounding me, and toss it back in earnest, appended by provocative charm, a keen twist, or barbed wit. But no more. Sadly, I now rely on palm pilots and e-mail for my 2001 memory and they bear no creative faculty. Yet, through this humbling banter, I sight again my youth, and those Broadway show tunes (segue).

Don't get me wrong, it's not that I'm against technopop, grunge, rap, blues, acid jazz, or anything these kids listen to today, it's just that show tunes better vocalize certain moments. Like this: a pining for time fleeting while we gallop our way to mortality. I'm reminded of the Fantasticks, the longest running Broadway musical, ever. It opened thirty years ago. Then, some among us were a gleam in a young couple's eye, some were pre-pubescents whose gonads yearned to migrate south, others were sipping their first spiked punch at a junior high dance, and an unfortunate few were pleading with a recalcitrant dean to retain their collegiate standing for at least one more semester. Below is not a sing-a-long song, particularly in deference to the druid-like performance at the end of the millennium hash, but more a simple dirge. A lot has happened since last December, and what I remember seems so far away...

Lyrics to the tune of "Try to Remember" from the "Fantasticks" (light melody)

Try to remember
That hash last December
When snow was clean and not so yellow.

Try to remember
That hash last December
As moonbeams gleamed
On Supreme Court bellows,

(Shift key to major)

Try to remember,
Our hash last December
When stocks rang high
For happy fellows.

Yes, Try to remember
and if you remember,
then swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow, swallow. (continue refrain until full)