My cheeks are red
My mouth is singing
My heart is beating
And my brain is thinking
I like to swing, but that’s not all
My favorite thing is to sing this swinging song
This is a song that was heard on the playground at school, and is sometimes sung by the students while playing on the swings. She also sings it on her swingset at home. She likes it because it’s a fun song to sing.
I’ve never heard this song before, so it may have come about recently.
I was probably like six years old, and out in front of our house in Campbell, at the base of the light post by the sidewalk, there was a clump of poppies. I saw it, and I grabbed one to pull it up, and my friend Joe Bloom who was a little older than me, probably 8, said “you can’t pick those, it’s against the law and you’ll go to jail”. Clearly that moment stuck with me. From that moment with forward, and I probably shared it with everyone that I came into contact with. Fast forward to when my daughter is the same age, she heard the same thing from her friends.
This is something I definitely heard too when I was younger, from my friends while I was in elementary school. In reality however, the law is that you aren’t allowed to pick any flowers on state property, so it’s interesting that this legend has persisted.
I was probably in fifth grade, and my friends were describing how you would go into the bathroom, and turning off the lights – and this was on the playground at my elementary school – that you’d close your eyes, turn around three times and say “Blood Mary, Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary,” and when you open your eyes you’re supposed to see Blood Mary in the mirror. And the lore was someone’s cousin did it, and Bloody Mary came out of the mirror and killed him. My brother had nightmares for years around that stuff, because he heard the same stuff.
I heard this growing up as well, around third grade from a friend. I remember it very distinctly as well, because it was so scary at the time. I never wanted to be in a bathroom with the lights off, fearing Bloody Mary would appear even if I didn’t do the ritual.
When I was at Campbell Junior High in the 70s, there was this teacher that had been infamous for wearing mirrors on shoes. His name was Mr. B. He was rumored to use them to look up girl’s skirts and got in trouble with the school district the previous year. When I became a seventh grader, I heard that rumor. I was four years ahead of my brother, and I had never mentioned it to him. Fast forward four years, one of the first things my brother came home and said was that Mr. B had gotten in trouble for wearing mirrors on his shoes last year—the same story I heard when I was in school. I remember laughing so much because I had heard the same thing years ago.
This is a really interesting legend, as it was not only the content that persisted, but the time frame of the event happening “last year” that persisted as well. The informant likes this because it’s a bit of folklore he shares with many people who went to the same school as him.
There was a joke that my grandpa used to tell. It’s a little off color but not so bad. But he told the story, and then my mom told the story, and I haven’t really told it but I can tell it to you so you can hear it. It’s a little bit racist but you can take the race out of it and it works just the same. This is a story that my grandfather’s older brother and father told him. So there was a ranch in the West somewhere, probably Colorado or California. There were cowhands, and they were working all day on the ranch, and they had a cook named Wong. They thought they would play some practical jokes on him. When Wong was sleeping, the cowhands they would tie his shoes together with lots of knots. The next day they waited for a reactions, but nothing happened—he just fixed his shoes and didn’t mention it. The next day they put thumbtacks on his seat. They waited to see his reaction, and when he sat down he kind of grimaced, but just swept them away and didn’t really care. The next day they either short-sheeted his bed or soaked his sheets with water—I don’t really remember. They waited for a reaction, and no reaction. So they finally decided to talk to him. “So Wong, you’ve been a really good sport, tying your shoes in knots and putting thumbtacks on your seat, and messing with your sheets, so we won’t do that to you anymore.” In a different voice; “You no more put knots in my shoes?” “No, no more knots in your shoes.” “You no more put tackies on my seat?” “No, no more tacks on your seat.” “You no more soak my sheets in water?” “No, we won’t soak your sheets in water anymore.” “Good, well I no more pee pee in your soup.”
This story is important to the informant because of its history, and it having been passed down for multiple generations. It reminds him of how different the world used to be regarding the treatment of minorities, and their portrayal.
I find it interesting that the racist aspect of this narrative isn’t actually essential to the story– it could be told just about the same, without making stereotypical voices or mentioning the races of the characters.