The “twelve gauge surprise”…

An old James Taylor song popped into my head this morning. I discovered it in the early 90s, when I really got into James Taylor’s music. It was on his 1985 album, That’s Why I’m Here. The song is called “Mona”, and if you don’t see the crude little drawing of the pig that appears on the album’s cover art, you might not realize this song isn’t about homicide. If you’re used to James Taylor’s gentle lyrics and soothing vocals, you might really be taken by surprise by this quirky song. It really goes against James’s usual comforting, consoling sounds and messages of solace.

A fan pleads with James Taylor to play “Mona” at a concert. It had been many years and he mostly gets it right… I’m actually kind of comforted that James had to pull this one out of his ass. “Mona” is obviously a long forgotten problem.

“Mona”, of course, is not a person, but a pig. The story goes that James was gifted a pet pig who got too big to keep, and too “damned old” to eat. So James was forced to present her with a “twelve gauge surprise”. Or, at least that’s how the song goes. I don’t know if he actually did kill the pig, or if she even existed. For all I know, “Mona” is a metaphor for life’s problems. It’s just kind of a goofy song that was in my head this morning, reminding me of the twisted, dark, and ultimately, oddly funny things that come up in life.

I believe the album, That’s Why I’m Here, had a dedication to Bill W. in it, as well. Bill W., for your edification, is Bill Wilson, the man who founded Alcoholics Anonymous. It’s no secret that James Taylor was a notorious drug addict back in the day. He got sober when he was 36 years old, which was around the time he was making That’s Why I’m Here. I’m sure he needed some comic relief when he made this album, since much of it consists of heartfelt songs about serious subjects and soothing covers. This was about the time James really started to turn into an adult contemporary artist, rather than a folkie. His sound, and his life, were changing.

The studio version of “Mona”, slickly produced and everything…

Anyway, I was thinking of “Mona” this morning. I don’t think it was necessarily because Bill and I just had to put Zane to sleep, either, because our feelings for Zane are much greater than the glib mood James displays as he sings this silly eulogy to Mona, the pig. It probably has more to do with another recurrent situation that has been plaguing us lately, and what we plan to do to finally address it.

I think about James contemplating what to do about that expensive, nuisance pig in his life. It probably troubled him for awhile, but then he resolved to take decisive action. He did the deed, and though he regrets having to do it and will miss Mona’s company, he’s ultimately okay with his choice and realizes that life will go on. The shock and awe will pass, and things will go back to normal. In fact, things will be better than before, because that pest, Mona, will be a funny, fond memory instead of a greedy burden. Maybe Mona really was a pig… but I kind of wonder if maybe she was a symbol of his drug and alcohol addiction, too. Hey, I earned a degree in English. I might as well use it somewhere, right?

James Taylor was inspired to write the song, “That’s Why I’m Here” after the death of his friend, comedian John Belushi, in 1982. Belushi, also a famous drug addict, had once told Taylor that he was worried about him because of his uncontrolled drug use. But Taylor didn’t die of an overdose; Belushi did. That seemed to be the wake up call James needed to get his shit together. Besides being a serious drug abuser back in the day, James also suffered from depression. He’d spent time in a psychiatric hospital– even graduated high school when he was a patient at McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts. It was probably an even bigger challenge for him than it was for most to take on his appetite for substances. However, although it was tough and no doubt, unpleasant, James resolved to take action and do better.

“John’s gone, found dead, he dies high, he’s brown bread. Later said to have drowned in his bed. After the laughter, the wave of dread, it hits us like a ton of lead.”

Now, almost 35 years later, James still loves his life’s vocation. We had the privilege of seeing him perform in Dublin last summer, along with Bonnie Raitt and Paul Simon. It was a six hour show that left me Charley horses, due to the extremely cramped seating. But man, what a show… and what an inspiration. He’s on his third marriage, but it’s lasted seventeen years and produced two sons who are almost grown up. I think his wife, Kim, is the love of his life, and I can see how much he loves his work every time I watch him perform live. His face is an expression of sheer joy. That’s the kind of life everyone should aspire to have– doing what brings joy, satisfaction, and perhaps, material gain.

I know James Taylor’s journey to sobriety wasn’t necessarily comfortable. He had to do the work to move beyond his drug addiction and mature into the man he was destined to be. He had to slay a “pesky pig” who was draining his time and resources. So he pulled out his “twelve gauge surprise”, bravely pushed aside his doubts, manned up, did the work, and moved on to a better life. Is it a perfect life? No… no one has a perfect life. James Taylor is a flawed being, like we all are. He’s made mistakes, and his life isn’t flawless just because he quit drinking and drugging. But it’s no doubt better than it was. And that’s because James got brave, took a stand, and changed his way of living for the better. He finally addressed and overcame a problem that was holding him back, hitting him over and over again.

Overcoming addiction didn’t mean that James Taylor didn’t have other challenges. He lost his 46 year old brother, Alex, in 1993. Alex died of a massive heart attack after having consumed an entire fifth of vodka in one sitting. The day Alex died was James’s 45th birthday. I’ll bet James wanted to drink that day… or use drugs, or do something to ease the pain of losing his big brother, who was reportedly every bit as musically talented as James is. But he pushed through it and kept making amazing music, despite still running into stumbling blocks that might have stopped or even killed a different man.

A song for Alex Taylor… named “Alice” in this memorial.

In 1997, James released his incredibly healing album, Hourglass, which happened to come out just as I was finishing my Peace Corps service in Armenia. I was profoundly depressed at the time and wouldn’t get help for another year. But when I listen to that album, which I’ve read James had made after seriously contemplating retirement, I always feel comforted. It’s a work borne out of tragedies… his brother’s death, his father’s death, and, perhaps, the death of his second marriage to Kathryn Walker. And yet, some of the music on that album is just nourishment for my soul. It’s helped me get through some very hard times.

Hourglass also reminds me of France, since that’s where I bought my copy. I was in Tours, with my older sister. I’d been on vacation for a month after my Peace Corps service… scared of the future, exhausted, walking on eggshells, and still very depressed and anxious. The music store where I bought Hourglass didn’t sell cassettes, but I only had a cassette player. CD players were still rare and extremely expensive in Armenia when I was there, and although I’d owned one for years in the States, I didn’t have one in Armenia. I carried an old school Walkman with me everywhere in Armenia, and bought tons of bootleg cassettes there, some of which were of amazing albums from the 70s I hadn’t yet been exposed to in our land of plenty. Now, I wonder how long it would have taken me to be exposed to that music if I had never gone to Armenia, where there are amazing musicians and artists, but not all of the modern conveniences we enjoy in America and western Europe.

I remember being very distressed that I couldn’t listen to Taylor’s latest back then, due to my inferior technology. I had heard some of Hourglass on VOA Europe, and knew I would like it. Alas, it had to wait until I was home… and that was probably when I needed to listen to it the most. 1997-1999 were very, very hard years for me. I might not have survived them, had I not been brave enough to seek help and do some hard work. In that case, the “twelve gauge surprise” was psychotherapy and antidepressants, which changed my life irrevocably for the better. It wasn’t easy. It cost time and money and required me to talk about some very difficult things with professionals. But ultimately, I prevailed, and life is, mostly, better. At least I don’t contemplate suicide nearly as often as I used to.

I don’t own a twelve gauge shotgun. If I did, I doubt I would use it to dispatch a pesky pig who has gotten too old, fat, and burdensome for me. That’s not really my way. I save such drastic, final solutions for when a situation is truly a lost cause. I also prefer much cleaner, more humane methods of slaying the Monas who get too damned big and old to care for. But still, the idea of the “twelve gauge surprise” in the old song, “Mona”, really speaks to me today.

So… to all the Monas in my life, enjoy being dirty, greedy, noisy, and stinky while you still can. I’ve got a figurative “twelve gauge surprise” waiting for you.



I think it’s going to be one of those days. A couple of days ago, I got a message that my Elton John tickets, which I ordered in February of last year, were on their way to me. The reason they took so long to get to me is because I ordered the premium package, which includes food and a parking spot. In retrospect, I wish I’d just gotten really good seats instead. I’ve been waiting all year to get the tickets and then had to change addresses. I gave them my new address, which was on our lease. Turned out the lease had a typo, so the address was technically incorrect. When I checked Deutsche Post this morning, the message said that the tickets couldn’t be delivered and were being returned to sender.

I just sent a message to, which is where I bought the tickets. I explained the address had a typo. Hopefully they will resend the tickets immediately. The show isn’t until May 11th, but I’ll feel better when I have those tickets in hand. The good news is that I sprang for ticket insurance. I wonder if, when they write back, they’ll blame me for the mistake. Actually, this time, it was my mistake. I should have corrected the address when I realized there was a typo. I guess I figured that Germans would know how to spell “Rathaus” correctly. But this time, I will take all of the blame because it was my fault.

Then, I was washing some old bedding I have gifted to the dogs. I put them on the short cycle. As I was waiting for the cycle to finish, I got an error message and had to drain the water out of the machine. That’s always a pain in the ass. With any luck, that solved the problem. Although my German machine probably does a better job cleaning clothes, I miss how easy my American machine is to use. It’s never been as “fussy” as the German washing machine is. I never had to drain it or restart it… or wait until it deigns to unlock the door so I can get my clothes out of it. I put them outside to drip dry and they were still sodden hours later.

Then I let the dogs go outside and Arran promptly peed on one of the posts holding up the “pavilion”. I didn’t want that area to reek of dog pee, so I used water from the rain barrel to rinse it away. I’m not sure that did the trick…

I ordered beer from Saveur-Biere a few days ago. Half of it arrived yesterday. The other half seems to be lost in transit. Hopefully, that will show up today, too, not that I need to be drinking beer. Lately, I think I’d be better off drinking chamomile tea or something. I see there was a “problem” with the parcel and it had to be repackaged. My guess is that one of the bottles broke or something.

Lately, I haven’t had much luck with the mail and/or shipments. A couple of weeks ago, I missed a shipment entirely and got into it with the Amazon seller, who blamed me for missing the shipment (it came a day early and the delivery guy showed up while I was walking the dogs). We ended up having an unpleasant email exchange with me just deciding to let the shipment get returned to the sender. Edited to add: today, they wrote to me again, asking what to do about the shipment. This time, the exchange was much more polite, so I asked them to just send it to me if they could. I should have it tomorrow.

And finally… we are going to decide what we are going to do about our “situation”. I’d really like to get it settled, once and for all. Bill has been so busy with his new job that we haven’t had much time to explore or have any fun. It’s starting to affect my overall attitude. I’m beginning to wonder if I need to take a trip back to the States. But the idea of doing that gives me a rash. Seriously. I literally have one just under my sagging boobs. It itches.