Mrs. Sardina, the fifth grade teacher, shared with me today that Andy had once been lost in the woods for a week. She hinted that he might have run away due to "family problems" but wouldn't elaborate. I didn't press the issue, but I think my initial impression of his home life is correct. His parents did what any parent would be expected to do in such a case. They plastered the community with posters and, with the help of volunteers, combed the woods. Why they were so sure he would be in the woods I don't know. The search found nothing, but Andy came back on his own nearly a week later. He wouldn't tell anybody where he'd been.
Mrs. Sardina told me that ever since that incident he'd become even more delusional than usual. There was a certain newfound smugness to his demeanor as well. I'll take her word for it. He didn't seem smug to me.

I met a child named Good Old Andy today, and I'm not sure what to make of him. The other kids think he's a nut, and treat him accordingly - calling him names and tripping him in the hallway. I thought it might be interesting to see if he had any songs to add to my collection, although I wasn't too hopeful because kids who exist on the fringes (or indeed, entirely outside) their social groups can't tap into the word-of-mouth process by which the songs are disseminated.
When I addressed him as Andy, he corrected me, insisting that he was "Good Old Andy". He claimed that other little "Good Old Andys" lived in his hands. He said that I'd have to take his word for it because they were invisible. There was a scabbed over cut across the bridge of his nose. I wondered if he was an abused child - still wonder, in fact. I've seen it before - the creation of an elaborate fantasy world to escape from problems at home.
Good Old Andy didn't have any songs. He did, however, have a story - a variation on one that I had heard at school when I was his age. It was the story about albinos in the woods. The version I had been told as a child dealt with satanic, cannibal albinos. Andy wasn't too sure about the details. He just knew that they were there. He insisted that he'd seen them. Maybe I can write an addendum to my study, dealing with folk tales. There's something a little unnerving about that boy though. Maybe it's because he reminds me of the kids I mercilessly picked on when I was younger. I wonder what kinds of scars this constant hazing leaves?

Some of the administrators at Stenbock Elementary School are still a little dubious about my research project. They can't see why anybody would want to record children singing childish mutations of "On Top of Old Smoky" and "Jingle Bells", much less write a scholarly treatise on the subject. I tried to explain to them why these songs represent the last bastion of folk music. I'm only doing what song collectors have been doing since the invention of recording devices - preserving regional variations of songs that are passed down through the generations by word of mouth. All of the other types of folk music have already been mined, collected, and professionally recorded. These funny little children's songs have slipped beneath the radar of the "serious" song collectors. I'm here to make sure that they aren't lost.
Today I captured a previously unheard version of "Jingle Bells, Batman Smells" in which it is the Penguin, and not the Joker, who gets away. The kids I've talked to so far can't believe that a grown-up is actually showing interest in their songs. Most of them were a little hesitant about singing them at first, fearing some sort of censure. It brings to mind other dominated cultures, where people aren't even allowed to follow their own traditions. The U.S. has a long history of stealing away Native American children and indoctrinating them in white man's schools. I think also of the Sami culture in Scandinavia, and the Ainu in Japan, and so many others who see their way of life sneered at and disallowed.
I'm hoping that I can help these children see the importance of the songs they sing. I aim to help them see the big picture - where they fit into the world. At the same time I'm well aware that theirs is a transitory culture, and one day it will be growth, not laws, that will distance them from their songs.
On a personal note, it feels good to be working again. I tend to drive myself crazy when I remain idle for too long.