The Pompitous of Love

High school isn't a very important place. When you're going you think it's a big deal, but when it's over nobody really thinks it was great unless they're beered up.
-Stephen King, "Carrie"

It usually takes me about 10 minutes to drive to work. I try to leave home quite early and  arrive at my desk quite early, and therefore I can leave work quite early.
But one morning, a few weeks ago, I left the house later than usual, and hit early morning traffic causing  my drive to work to take almost 30 minutes.

I’m not complaining about this, however, because I enjoy the drive. I’m alone in the car, the weather is still cool, and I get to listen to early morning radio without anyone telling me what to listen to. Sometimes I listen to the news, but usually I flip around the channels trying to find something I can sing to. I don’t always succeed.

Which is not necessarily a bad thing, since I sing as well as a muffin. Have you ever heard of a singing muffin? Neither have I. That's because muffins can't sing. Enough said.

But that morning, the angels were with me. Leaving the house 15 minutes later than usual, and having a longer time in the car than usual, enabled me to catch Steve Miller’s The Joker.

Some people call me the space cowboy, yeah
Some call me the gangster of love
Some people call me Maurice
Cause I speak of the pompitous of love.

Suddenly, my 2008 green Renault Megane (aka Savta's car) turned into a time machine, rocketing me back to 1974(ish) and Junior High. 

Who ever remembers Junior High (known today as 'Middle School')? My time in Junior High, and, slightly less so, Senior High, was spectacularly boring. I had the same friends I had since Grade 1; we even had sports class (then called PT) in the same gym as we had in Primary School.

However, I do remember the endless winters, the waist-high snow, and the Saturday night dances.
I went to a Jewish school, that is, all the kids were Jewish. We were taught 'Jewish' subjects (Tanach, Jewish History, Israeli History and Geography, Jewish law [lite], Hebrew Language and Literature, etc.), but otherwise, we were much like any other school. We had dances. Three or four times a year, all the kids would come, on a Saturday evening, to the same gym where we had PT class. The boys would stand on one side, and the girls would stand on the other. Both sides would giggle. (You'll never convince me that the boys didn't giggle.) Every once in a while a boy would peel off the wall and ask a girl to dance. Everyone would gawk.

That morning, I was back in that gym, swaying to
I'm a picker
I'm a grinner
I'm a lover
And I'm a sinner
I play my music in the sun. 

Good thing the windows were closed, because, I was rockin', and, unfortunately, sounding like death with a bad cold.

I used to sing in Junior High school, also. I guess that's why no boy ever peeled off the wall to ask me to dance.

By the time I got to work, my time machine had returned to the present and once again became Savta's car.
But all day long, I did indeed speak of the pompitous of love.
Which perplexed many people.
I told them it was one of those words that's just not translatable. 
Like 'davka' and 'stam' in Hebrew.
Only different.