We're All the Corner Man Now

I'm changing the lyrics to a Mountain Goats song. Plus: things I purchased because my family is a bunch of complainers.

Hi, it’s me.

Friends, we are deep into garden harvest time, also known as the time of year my son complains the loudest about the bounty of my efforts—nay, the fruits of my labor!—sprawled across the kitchen table and counter tops.

This season I did something about it: I bought stuff. I realize this is something normal people do—they find, borrow, or buy stuff to solve a problem. But not me! I complain! I suffer complaints! This is the way things are and we shall suffer through it!

But I married Bryan, who has a dongle for all your needs (that’s what she said), and if he doesn’t have it, he buys one (also what she said). Through his example, I’m learning to meet my own needs (oh God, that’s what she said—what is wrong with me?!), and these purchases have pleased my family immensely!

Here’s what we got:

The potting mat (with a 20yo photo bomber), washing tub, and herb dryer.

• A portable potting mat that I lay out on the table to do all my dirty work, then I simply fold it up and put it away. Or if I’m not done with my project, I can easily move the mat over to the coffee table while we eat dinner.

• A portable washing tub to soak my vegetables in once harvested. It has a drain at the bottom that opens and closes with a turn, plus the whole thing folds down flat for storage. No more hogging the kitchen sink!

• A portable herb drying rack to replace all the screens I had laying around the house. Remember The Floor Tea Incident?! The cats definitely can’t break into this one and dump it all over the floor, and my son can’t complain about all the screens on the table! Winning! (Bryan has reminded me that he is the one who bought this for me, but he can get his own newsletter if he wants the truth to come out!)

So that’s what’s happening in my Garden Life right now. Pretty soon we’ll be entering Fogtober here in Seattle, which is my second favorite time of year!

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We're All the Corner Man Now

One day back in April I was listening to an album by a band called The Mountain Goats. As I drove up I-5 past Ravenna where the pinup girl is painted on the side of a house, the last song and title track, Bleed Out, started playing. Midway through the song I heard this verse:

There was a chance we’d make it through this

It’s safe to say that we missed it

And I will never lose hope, and I haven’t lost hope

I’m just realistic

I will go down punching, but I will go down

And my corner man won’t bring me back around

Bleed out

I’m gonna bleed out

I repeated this verse over and over again, carefully placing my finger on the slider and sliding it left to just the right spot while not wrecking the car. I was crying. It was the day after we got Bryan’s pathology report back and learned there was cancer in his lymph nodes, spreading to God knows where. He just had ten inches of his colon removed a week earlier and the outlook had been positive. We had planned on moving on with our lives. And now this. 

Listening to the lyrics in the car, I got them wrong. I thought a word in one line was will, as in, “my corner man will bring me back around.” I was crying because the song rang of hope in a dented and rusty universe. It punched entropy in the throat. It was a porch light at the end of a dark road. I’m gonna go down fighting, but my corner man will bring me back around. The man in the corner behind the boxer, rubbing his beaten muscles and cleaning out his wounds. Sticking cotton swabs up his nose and telling him to spit into a bucket. You can do this, champ! Get back in there and knock him out!

An essay formed in my mind called, We’re All the Corner Man Now, about all of us in Bryan’s corner, reminding him to stay alive. He may go down punching, but we’ll bring him back around. I imagined the scene as I always do, like a movie or a music video. A crowd, an exhausted fighter, me, with my face to his face, telling him he can do this. The crowd cheers. We’re all the corner man now, sings The Mountain Goats songwriter, John Darnielle.

When I got home, I looked up the lyrics to make note of my essay idea and saw what they actually were. I triple checked multiple lyrics sites to be sure. 

The word was won’t. As in, “My corner man won’t bring me back around.”

This, of course, makes sense to the rest of the song (and to The Mountain Goats’ general vibe), but I heard what I wanted to hear. Won’t didn’t make sense to my expectations of how this will all turn out. Won’t is not fine. Won’t is not a happy ending. I was ignoring that Julia Roberts dies at the end of Steel Magnolias. She dies and Sally Field has a fit in the cemetery, and even though the scene ends in laughter, her corner man didn’t bring her daughter back around.

Sometimes when we get a bit of bad news, or he’s exhausted, or the side effects of chemo are overwhelming, Bryan will sigh and say, “I’m ready. I’ve had a good life.” Sometimes he says it with a twinkle in his eye and the corner of his mouth slightly upturned, and I say, “Finally! Now I can cash in that life insurance.” But sometimes he says it with a choke in his throat, eyes red, and I put my face on his face and tell him I’m not done with him yet, that I still need him. And besides, if he gives up now, who’s gonna hang up the new shelf in the bathroom?

Here I am with Thomas (Aug 2023), who I joke about being a complainer but truly he is the best human. Also, I get curious looks when I wear my Bleed Out hat.

I’ve decided to change the song. I hope John Darnielle doesn’t mind. I want to keep singing it my way: And I will never lose hope, and I haven’t lost hope; And my corner man will bring me back around.

I hope you’ll join me in the corner.

Until next time,

Jen

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Lyrics

Every time they knock me down
I rise to my feet
Every time I take a bullet
They find a medic
To patch me up real neat
You only have to run the numbers to know
Sooner or later, everybody's gotta go

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

There won't be anybody waiting to rush me to safety
I'm gonna let the long night take me
Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

Every bender needs a blackout
Every gauge deserves a top line
Every story needs a child who believes
The brave hero's gonna be just fine
You only have to check the papers to see
Some of these children end up just like me

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

I'm gonna make a gigantic mess
But it meant something important, I guess
Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

Somewhere beyond imagination
Somewhere beneath the final delta
Washed up on the banks of a river at the height of the storm
Everybody seeking shelter
I'm gonna dive right in
I can't swim

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

There's gonna be a big spot where I once lay
And there won't even be a spot one day
Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

There was a chance we'd make it through this
It's safe to say now that we missed it
And I will never lose hope, and I haven't lost hope
I'm just realistic
I will go down punching, but I will go down
And my corner man won't bring me back around

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

The blood is pooling underneath me
Flowing freely from my mouth
You wanna call a medevac, now?
Knock yourself out
You can tell them when they get here
You tried
But the smallest hole was several inches wide

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

I'm gonna head into the darkness
I'm gonna head into the light
I will surrender to the slow, lurching tide
Drift off into the night
There won't be any words of wisdom from me
Just a lake of blood for all the world to see

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

I'm gonna tell my friends to all go to Hell
And wish my enemies well

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out

If it's blood you want, I've got plenty of it!
You're gonna love it!

Bleed out
I'm gonna bleed out