Tommy Doesn't Know What Day it Is ~

Tommy Doesn't Know What Day it Is ~

Alice and Betsy lay next to the record player, tucked away behind the sofas in the living room. This way, Alice could jump up and switch off the music at the first hint of a car in the drive or a key in the lock. It was her father’s album and they were not allowed to be listening to The Who. It was a “rock opera” after all, and that kind of thing… well…

So Alice and Betsy lay quietly, with the volume turned way down. Her father wouldn’t be upset, but her Mom? That was another story. Betsy’s as well. “Look at that cover! It’s horrible! My daughter shouldn’t listen to that!” As if “the Moms” had ever listened to any kind of rock-n-roll ever…

So the two conspirators lay and listened…their eyes wide-shut…to the magic in the music.

“See me, feel me, touch me, heal me…” The lyrics tore at Betsy’s heart, and as she glanced over at Alice, she noticed big fat crocodile tears rolling into Alice’s ears. “Hey!” she whispered, scooching closer. Alice lifted the playing arm for a moment.

“I’m all right,” she whispered, sobbing harder.

“No, you’re not,” Betsy answered, putting an arm around the shaking shoulders. “It’s sad, isn’t it? That anyone should feel so isolated and alone and…”

“It’s me!” Alice sobbed. “It’s me! It’s my Mom, it’s everyone!”

“I know…” Betsy didn’t know what else to say, and only held Alice tighter. She knew she wasn’t separate from Source. She had known that forever, but everyone she saw, everyone she knew, everyone she talked to, felt differently. Isolated and alone. Separate. Never truly understood nor truly loved for what they were.

Betsy walked around amazed at the bubbles she observed around everyone. She wondered what her own bubbles might look like.

“You know it isn’t real, right?” Betsy ventured to ask her sobbing friend.


“The isolation. The loneliness….”

“What are you talking about?! You think it’s my imagination that my Mom was miserable with my Dad? You think it’s not real that she struggles to feed us? You think….”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Betsy soothed. “That’s not what I meant. It’s hard for me too…”

“No! Your father still lives at home! {Betsy would have argued otherwise, but that was another story and now was not the time.} Your Mom doesn’t have to struggle to provide enough for you to eat! She doesn’t have to try to make a life for you without help! There are no bullets flying over your head!…”

“Wait…You’re not making sense now. Bullets? What?”

“Oh you know what I mean… look at what’s going on in the world!” Alice was on a roll now, and, as Betsy backed off a bit to look her in the eyes, she saw it. The FEAR. The FOG. The bubble growing larger.

“It doesn’t have to be that way…” Betsy began.

“Oh what do you know? This is my life!” Alice sobbed harder as Betsy replaced the playing arm in contact with the vinyl. Maybe the music would help.

“Tommy doesn’t know what day it is…” Neither does anyone else, really, mused Betsy, grinning at Alice, now singing along. It is helping! Someday she’ll know. Someday she’ll understand. Until then I can only love her.

Betsy wondered how long the bubbles that were forming around her would take to dismantle. She wondered what it would take to make them break. What would it take to be awake?

Errands took longer than usual that day, so the girls got to listen to the whole album! They could scarcely believe their luck.

“D’you see, Alice?” Betsy tried again. “Even Tommy could be awake!”

“So the whole world has to follow his example? Being awake, whatever that is, by sensory deprivation? By having nothing? By losing everything? Are you nuts?”

Then, as Betsy opened her mouth to respond…”It’s a great album, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Betsy agreed. “Thanks for letting me listen.” She tried again. “That’s an album, right? A stage show… Life doesn’t have to be…”

“Hey, d’you want some ice cream?” Alice was clearly finished with this conversation and intent on raiding the fridge.

As Betsy wandered to the kitchen, she also wondered. What will it take?

Source answered her, all in a rush.

The bubbles have to break.
The illusion must be seen through.
The foundations have to shift.

“When"?” Betsy asked, inside her head of course, because Alice was dishing up the strawberry.

When It Is Time was the clear and concise answer.

“That deaf, dumb, and blind kid, sure plays a mean pinball…”

When the games no longer want to be played.

So SHE asks us all…

Are you Deaf, Dumb and Blind, Tommy?
Or can you hear me, after all?

Infinite love to you in every magic moment of every wondrous day,