Mama Told Me Not to Come

....The radio is blasting,
Someone's knocking on the door
I'm lookin' at my girlfriend - She's passed out on the floor
I seen so many things here
I ain't never seen before
I don't know what it is - But I don't wanna see no more

Mama told me not to come
Mama told me not to come
Mama said, that ain't no way to have fun

           Randy Newman, 1970  Covered by Three Dog Night 1971

*********

"I think Joe should be allowed to stay home."
"I'm not so sure."
"Look, he's got two jobs and it's a good chance to make some money this summer."  Dad was my advocate.  Best lawyer ever, was my opinion.
Mom had that far away look she got when she was thinking deeply.  My heart sank when she started to suck in air between her teeth, never a good sign.
"Well, I suppose we need someone to look after the garden and feed the fish..."
My heart leapt for joy.  No cramming into family cars to travel south to see whatever for God knows how long.  I hadn't been in on any of the family planning of the trip.  I was set - I didn't want to go.  I didn't care about missing out, I wanted to stay home, be free and as responsible as I had to  be under the circumstances.
Dad turned to me with an expression that said, I know what you're up to.  Don't let me down.
"Come let's take a look at the garden."  I followed him outside and listened without my usual impatience as he walked me through directions on the care and nurturing of the vegetables in the yard.  He spent most of his time on the tomatoes.
"I want to try out this new pollinator.  Wait until the afternoon and give each of the flowers a tiny little spray from this."  He showed me a bottle with a nozzle sprayer.

Something told me to pay attention.  Pay attention, Joe.  This is important.

Before I knew it they were gone and the house was mine.  Between working at York Farms cannery and cleaning up and mopping the floor of the Dairy Queen on Saturday nights, I would be busy enough.  I didn't own a car, my Gitane 10-speed would get me where I wanted to go.
I wasn't alone for long.  One friend, Al,  who worked at the A&W, came by with burgers and a jug of root beer.  Before long we were joined by Ben; Randy and Bill showed up shortly after that.  Don, who lived up the road came over before dark.  It wasn't long before they were planning my week. ...
My days of responsible near-adult life were pleasantly routine; work the late shift, get up around noon, play some records on the HiFi, water the garden, do a little weeding, and do a lot of pollinating.  Have dinner, play some records on the HiFi, hang out for a while, go to work.  I looked forward to the weekend.  With no family back until Tuesday, no cannery shifts until Monday, and other than my Dairy Queen shift on Saturday night, I was a free man, .  So were my friends, and we decided to meet Friday night to plan our weekend together.
A party would be great, but where?  Who did we know that had a free house?
I agreed we could have the party at my place but I had strict conditions:

 
• Nobody I didn't know

 
• Nothing gets wrecked

 
• Not too big, not too loud

 
• No drugs

 
• There has to be some girls there

The lads assured me that there would be no problems and I believed them.  I reminded them on Saturday before I headed out to the Dairy Queen.  I wanted to get there by as close to closing (10 pm) as I could so I could get back as fast as possible.  There were about a dozen people at the house when I left and it looked like a fun evening was ahead.

I did a quick but very thorough job that night at the DQ.  I liked the job, it had been passed on to me by my pal Randy, it paid well, and I didn't want to disappoint.  I didn't cut corners, I worked hard and fast.  Washrooms cleaned, tables cleaned, floors mopped and everything secured.  I had cut the three-hour job down to just over two and jumped on my bike to head home.

I crossed Yale, headed up Hocking to Mary Street and turned right.  I flew past Ontario  Ave, blew through Patten Ave, and as I applied the brakes headed into the four-way stop at Spadina  my stomach told me that things weren't quite right.

There were a lot of cars, few I recognized.  A few people out on the lawn sitting, talking, moving to their cars.  I glided up Kipp, standing on my pedals to get the best view.  Yellow blinking lights coming from inside were the only lights on in the house.  No music, no noise, just a sense of something that had already happened.  I wheeled into the back yard and locked up my bike.
I took a breath and headed for the back door, drifting past strangers outside smoking, drinking, hanging around.
"Jeez Joey, good thing you're back.  We have it all under control now."

In the short time I had been away word had spread that there was a big party at a house on Mary and Kipp.  People came and initially were very disappointed - it wasn't big and it wasn't much of a party.  The newcomers set about to change that and gathered more people and the necessary fuel that energizes big parties.  Like too much bbq starter on the coals the flame was big, bright, and brief.  Music got louder, people got busier, and somebody dragged a yellow construction street blinker in to give the place the proper mood.  The people made things big, the blinker made things bright; what made it brief was the police.
"They said they'll be around here soon again to see if things have settled down." I was told in a reassuring voice.  I wasn't reassured.
"We have to clean this place up, guys, and we have to do it now."
I started turning on lights and moving furniture.

 
• "Bummer"

 
• "Hey man, be cool."

 
• "Oh yeah, uh, the record needle's broken, man, you have to get a new one"

 
• "I think James wanted to see if he could get the fish drunk"

By the time the police got back almost everyone had left, and the few still here were trying to reshape the house back the way it was.  The officer told me how lucky I was (I wasn't feeling it) and that they'd be back around later again to make sure things were calm.  He told me to take the blinking traffic light back to the road construction site a block away.  I did.  As I walked back the house looked foreign to me.  I felt like a dead man, as dead as the floating fish in the aquarium I would soon have to account for.

The next day was more tidy and clean.  My friends had even gone home to bring cleaning products and equipment from their homes.  By evening things were looking pretty good.
"No booze",  Al informed us, pulling out another jug from work. "Tonight we are back to root beer."
We played cards and drank root beer.  Some of the guys left, some crashed on the couch.  And then the doorbell rang.

"Joe?  Let us in"  They were home!
"Who is it?" I asked as I heard the last of my friends scrambling for the front door exit.
"Open the door."
"Wow - you're back early, " I said sleepily, buying time.

As they turned on the lights I saw the room as they did, relieved to see the big, wholesome, empty root beer jug with the big A&W logo in the middle of the kitchen table.  I had a lot trouble making eye contact with any of them, especially when friend Randy stopped to say, "G'night," as he headed out the front door, last of the rats off the ship.
"Hey, who had root beer?"

***************

I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning, dreading interrogation. 
"Pancakes" hollered Dad from the top of the stairs.  I took a deep breath, pulled on some jeans and headed up.
"Did you have some people over?  What went on here?"  Mom was ready, I wasn't.
"Honey did you see the tomatoes?  By gum they are just loaded."
"Barney I was talking."
"I know, " he smiled warmly, "but you've got to see those tomatoes.  Did you pollinate them every day like I asked."
"Every day," I assured him.  Because I had.  Thank God.
I glanced at Mom.  She was looking away, slowly pulling in bits of air between her teeth.
She knew.
I knew she knew.

.Mam