At the Zoo

So here's my theory. In The Graduate, there is a scene in which Benjamin is stalking Elaine, even following her onto a bus. He asks where she is going; she says to meet someone. He asks where. She says, "At the zoo." Incredulous at her having a date at a place usually associated with families with kids, he asks, somewhat condescendingly, "At the zoo?" "At the zoo," Elaine replies, as if this were totally normal.

And here we have a song called "At the Zoo," on the same album as "Mrs. Robinson," with the line "you can take a crosstown bus." So my theory is that the song was written for, but not used in, the movie.

Most songs about zoos-- from Tom Paxton's "Going to the Zoo" to Peter Himmelman's "Picnic at the Zoo"-- are, in fact, children's songs. Only a few songs that mention, or are set at, zoos, are for adults: "Zombie Zoo" (Tom Petty), "Knockin' 'Round the Zoo (James Taylor), "Gorilla You're a Desperado" (Warren Zevon). And these use the zoo, or the image of one, merely as a jumping-off point.

This one, however, is entirely for adults: The changes in tempo and tone, the match-striking sound, and especially the vocabulary. Aside from terms like "reactionary" and "turn on," we have the assertion that elephants are "dumb." A children's song would never make fun of, or demean, an animal. (We don't talk like that in this house, mister... say you're sorry.) Also, we have the bored zookeeper taking a nip on his frequent breaks.

We certainly have never heard of these animals being characterized these ways before. What is "honest" about a monkey, or "insincere" about a giraffe? If anything, monkeys are one of the few animals intelligent enough to make things up, while giraffes are barely audible and seem rather straightforward.

Most likely, this is simply Simon having fun in the same way as on the bus trip with Kathy in "America." The benign-looking man with the bow tie was just too benign; he was probably a spy. So, too, the placid-seeming antelopes are really interesting in selling you their religion, and the pigeons are not congregating to eat fallen popcorn but conspiring to rebel. Every once in a while, they let the secret slip; we think they say "coo," but they are really crying "coup!"

Simon clearly had fun with this song; and we can even hear him laugh during the recording. After the biting humor of "Blessed," "Pleasure Machine," "Desultory Philippic," and even "Mrs. Robinson," it's nice to hear the duo just enjoying playing with words and music. The mood starts light, as with "Cloudy" or "Feelin' Groovy," and the song ends with a jaunty, upbeat bounce of "Groovey Thing."

It's songs like this that remind us of the other side of S&G. While they are known for their sadder, more introspective and more challenging works, they never forgot that they were still-- in some part-- Tom and Jerry.


IMPACT:
Simon has a charity, The Children's Health Fund, that involves sending trucks full of medical equipment-- basically clinic-mobiles-- out to poor parts of New York. They even drove their trucks down to New Orleans to help with Hurricane Katrina relief.

Jimmy Buffett turned his song "Jolly Mon" into a children's book, then Carly Simon followed with "Fisherman's Song." Paul Simon turned this song, "At the Zoo," into a children's book, too... with the proceeds going to The Children's Health Fund.

Although intended for adults, the song is Simon's most child-friendly (aside from the lullabies "St. Judy's Comet" and "Father and Daughter"). The line about hamsters "turning on" is finessed in the illustrations by having them wear miner's helmets with head lamps; the "zookeeper" is now fond not of rum but of a beaver named "Rum."


Next Song: Bridge Over Troubled Water

Sparrow

Fables are teaching tools. This one, like Aesop's, features talking animals. Like the Grimms', it contains a lesson about cruel selfishness. And like Andersen's, it concludes with a religious note.

Simon attacks three kinds of selfishness in this song. The first is that of the oak tree. For free, the tree could provide a place for a weary sparrow's nest. The tree is not being asked to provide the twigs for this nest, just enough room for one. And not even much room-- this is a tiny sparrow, after all.

The tree refuses, even while acknowledging that the sparrow is indeed "cold" and that its own "leaves" could "warm" the bird. The only implied reason is that the sparrow is unworthy of the tree: "I won't share my branches with no sparrow's nest." The ungrammatical "no" reads as "no mere" sparrow's nest. If it were a more substantive bird, say a peacock, that happened to be down on its luck, then maybe. But the welcome mat is rolled up if a pathetic little sparrow knocks.

(Aside from shelter, one needs food, and one would think that the sparrow would seek a few grains of "wheat" next. Were I to edit the song, I would switch the second and third verses. I would say that that a refusal of shelter, then a refusal of food, then a refusal of even a "kindly word," which would cost nothing at all, would be the last nail in the coffin-- how could a creature live without even someone acknowledging its misfortune? Simon instead, feels that the logical order is: shelter, then commiseration, then food: Not even food-- well, then forget it. That said, we will take the verses as they are presented.)

Next, the swan refuses a "kindly word" to the sparrow. The excuse is that he would devalue his own social currency by exchanging words with the (again, mere) sparrow: "I'd be laughed at and scorned if the other swans heard."

Lastly, the "wheat" refuses to help. Its defence is simply self-interest: "I need all my grain to prosper and grow." As if a few grains in a sparrow's stomach would make a difference in the grand scheme. At least the thought of charity did occur to the wheat, "I would if I could."

And now, homeless (compare to Bleeker Street), friendless, and starving, the sparrow dies. Only now that it is too late does someone consider helping the wretched thing. But by now, the assumption is that the sparrow will be abandoned yet again; the question changes from "And who will...?" to "Will no one...?"

The Earth replies that it will eulogize the sparrow and provide it a grave. The Earth is used as a metaphor for God: "For all I've created..." The Earth creates nothing-- in fact, it is a creation, of God's. It is disingenuous-- and out of context with the religiosity of the rest of the album-- to think that Simon is implying that Earth is a god along the lines of say, Gaia. Rather, the most logical assumption is that the "Earth" stands for God, who evoked the first living beings from dust, engendering the expression "Dust to dust."

What does the fable of the sparrow teach? What is, as Aesop would say, "the moral of the story"?

Is it: "Fret not-- while God's creations may be lacking in generosity, in the end God will provide a final kindness"?

Or is it: "God's creations refuse kindness because they feel superior, while God Himself does provide kindness because He is superior." Being kinder is being better; how "good" you are depends not on how much you have, but how much you give of what you have.

The lesson is clear: No excuse to refuse help holds water. You, the listener, could provide a "blanket," a "kindly word" to a needy, homeless person. You think it will soil your reputation to truck with the poor? Why, does God's reputation suffer when He does? Are you better than God, to worry about your good standing so? And yes, you could "prosper and grow" and still spare enough grains to feed a mere sparrow.

On an artistic note, while the song befits its time and place (and album), it rings a tad preachy now. On the other hand, the other religious songs on the album do not have a social message. How nice would it be if organized religion cared about helping the poor... in addition to what it does.

It would be an interesting exercise to compare this song with the hymn that may have inspired it, "His Eye is on the Sparrow," itself a possible reference to Psalm 84:3, which reads: "Yea, the sparrow hath found a house... thine altars, O Lord" (KJV).

Next song: The Sound of Silence