Chains, my baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
Chains, well I can't break away from these chains
Can't run around 'cause I'm not free
Woh these chains of love won't let me be
Now believe me when I tell you
I think you're fine, I'd like to hold you
But I can't break away from all of these chains
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
I wanna tell you pretty baby
Your lips look sweet, I'd like to kiss them
But I can't break away from all these chains
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
My baby's got me locked up in chains
And they ain't the kind that you can see
Woh these chains of love got a hold on me yeah
Chains
Chains of love
Chains of love
Oh these chains of love gotta hold on me
“No Jimmy, no I can’t go out
with you tonight, I have to study for tomorrow’s biology exam ,“ protested
Lorraine, Lorraine Dubois, Jimmy LaCroix’s , one and only, his ball and chain,
his, well, sweetie, the one that he gave his ever-loving’ class ring to. His
gave that valued, girl-valued if not pawnbroker- valued, class ring the night
that Lorraine and he had first gone down to watch the “submarine races” off of
Olde Saco Beach (Maine), or rather down
at the Seal Rock lovers’ lane end. Seal Rock where rumor, long-time rumor had
it going back a couple of generations, that that locale was where many knots were
tied (sex, for the clueless, the 1960 clueless, the 1960 non-Olde Saco clueless)
and sealed their love, or at least did the deed, get it, by placing the assignation
parties’ initials on that rock on their, ah, first assignation. Of course ,
only after having watched those mythical nighttime submarine races deep in the
back seat of some father-borrowed (meaning some tail-fin Plymouth, strictly for
universal square parents, and, and serviceable for the “races,”) or better,
some father- bought, reflecting good times, souped-up two-toned ’57 Chevy and
thus chisel-worthy. (Jimmy had borrowed his older brother Jeanbon’s, called
Jack except at mother/grandmother home, Dodge in exchange for a full wax job on
the car. Cheap at any price after the fact Jimmy thought, Jimmy Lorraine
fulfilled thought.
Jimmy this night though protested
to her that he had not seen his sweet Lorraine for five whole days since he had
been ill and therefore indisposed. Jimmy tried every trick in the book,
including the old dodge of studying together at her house (more specifically in
the basement family room) but nothing worked, nothing that night. Or for that
matter the next several nights. Jimmy was beside himself. And one did not have
to be a high-priced psychiatrist or a sociology professor at some elite
university to know that Jimmy had the “itch,” the submarine races itch. But
beyond that his, if you could believe Jimmy’s corner boy talk, or more
importantly, his Olde Saco High Monday morning before school boys’ “lav” weekend
lie-fest confession of love for one Lorraine Dubois (to clearly stake out his
“territory” for anyone within earshot who might have Lorraine, fetching
Lorraine Dubois thoughts, on their mind).
See before Lorraine Jimmy was
strictly what his corner boys called a “love ‘em and leave 'em kind of guy.” (Said
corner boys holding forth over at Mama’s Pizza Parlor, the one on Main Street
with the jukebox and kind of reserved after school and on weekends for Olde
Saco teen-agers. Others could go there at their peril during those hours and
were kindly advised to go to Mama’s on Atlantic Avenue that was kind of set
aside for families and others in no particular need of jukeboxes, lively girl
and boy watching, or stuff that might other cause too much excitement contrary
to doctor’s orders.)
Such guys, such callow youth,
existed even in the very attached by sixteen (and therefore theoretically for
life), married by eighteen, two bratty kids by twenty world of the old French
–Canadian quarters in Olde Saco (the local F-Cs called it the Acre, as in God’s
Little Acre, the actual residents, at least some, called it Hell’s Acre). Jimmy, having seen that unchanging cycle in
his downhill parents, his older brother Jean, his older sister Lara, and about
twelve hundred other Acre families wanted none of that. No way. Not for him.
Until Lorraine. Until not so
sweet Lorraine that is. She threw Jimmy for a loop and had him running through
hoops from the first time he eyed her in tenth grade homeroom over at Olde Saco
High. And after almost two years he finally got her to the races. (Little did
Jimmy know, know then anyway, that he could have successfully made his move
much earlier if he hadn’t been so single-minded in trying to get her to the
Seal Rock traditional mating ground. At least according to his corner boy, Ray
Bleu, or rather Ray’s sister who heard that pronouncement from Lorraine at one
Monday morning before school girls’ “lav” weekend doings lie-fest.)
So Jimmy surrendered,
surrendered that night without a fight, because after all what is a guy going
to do when a frill (local Acre guy talk for a girl, woman in those days) has a
guy all balled- up and calling her every night just to hear the sound of her
voice. So every one of those nights after Lorraine gave Jimmy her nightly
excuse for the day Jimmy went to his room, threw his younger brother, Raymond
out, closed and locked the door and played Chains
by The Cookies a few times and fell asleep. Raymond knew enough not to knock
and so he spent more than one night sleeping on the downstairs sofa.
P.S. Jimmy and Lorraine were
married, married over at Saint Brigitte’s (just like their parents and
grandparents) at eighteen (just graduated and she three months pregnant for the
curious, from Seal Rock submarine race initialed-love adventures or elsewhere was
not entirely clear. Entirely clear is that Jimmy got his “itch” problem with
Lorraine worked out ), had two so-so bratty kids by twenty and the last I heard
were still “chained” together forty years later. Go figure.
No comments:
Post a Comment