Then There Is The Day I Squeak With Every Step I Take Because, Well, I Have Rubber Chickens in My Bag

I am going to quote my colleague, Dr. Erica Hartwell, on this. "Of course Crandall's walking across campus with a rubber chicken in his bag."

Why did she say this?

Well, I had a rubber chicken in my bag and I was going to deliver it to my other colleague, Dr. Kris Sealy, in honor of her Wall Award talk. Every step I took made my carrier bag bang against my leg, which emitted a chicken squawk. At one point last year, my friend Kaitlyn and I were trying to orchestra a rubber chicken symphony which resulted in the purchase of way too many chickens. I forgot about these until my older sister's visit prompted me to ask myself, "What don't I need in my house?" A bag of rubber chickens that honk was probably a good choice to remove.

I couldn't get rid of them, though. I figured storage in my office would prove fruitful at some point, because one never quite knows when a chorus of singing chickens will come in handy.

When I arrived across campus, however, honk step-step, honk step-step, honk step-step, I came to locked doors at the Oak Room. I was a month too soon to deliver a rubber chicken to Dr. Sealy. So, I returned to my office, honk step-step, honk step-step, honk step-step. I didn't mind the turning heads because, as Dr. Hartwell remarked, "Of course Crandall's walking across campus with a rubber chicken in his bag."

These are the moments when I really miss the Brown School community who would never question such an action.

In the meantime, I leave you with Pachelbel's Chicken Sonata. I will continue to aim for this brand of talent and hope, one day, I can give such a musician a run for his or her money (and yes, I know I've written about such music in the past)