My mother played the bass.

The Bass.
by mason bourne

My mother played the bass.
It was all up in her face.
Because she didn't know where to place
that big old ugly bass.

She took it on the bus.
It made her want to kuss.
She always made a fuss
because she took it on the bus.



I would like to dedicate the poem to my mother who played the bass in elementary school. This is no bass guitar, this is the bass (huge string instrument). Can you imagine a little Mariellen Peterson carrying a bass that is 5 times her size?

There was a Jazz band playing music today in The Crossroads (BYU-I Food Court) and the huge bass reminded me of a little girl who used to do the same thing. I am hoping that she takes it up again. I would like to see those crafty hands playing the instrument that sparked her interests years ago. We can give tribute to the bass that led my mom to be who she is today. From this experience, she learned to carry a load 5 times greater than her physical and emotional capacity. I always knew you were strong Mom, but I now know how strong you must have been as a 6 year old carrying a bass 15 miles in the snow with no shoes, uphill both ways, just to get to the bus stop.

The bus, the bus, the B-U-S!

I love you, Mom!