When I was small, I watched Sesame Street often, and one of the skits in regular rotation in those days was a music video for a song about the importance of learning to read danger signs and the importance of safety awareness generally. It is performed by Muppets, though not by any of the named regulars. It’s a catchy, well-done song. You can watch it by clicking here.
Some of the warnings the song delivers are vague and nebulous, others are quite sensible and child-appropriate, such as look both ways before crossing the street. But towards the end it gets silly, listing a series of unlikely and cartoonish problems to watch out for.
Don’t go slippin’ on a fallin’ banana
Don’t stand under a fallin’ piana
Don’t spend the winter in Montana
Don’t mention Sherman in Savanna.
That last one stuck in my head as one of those many mysteries children encounter and have no idea how to solve. Who was Sherman? What was Savanna? Why did the one dislike the other? The name, Sherman, sounded vaguely Muppetish, as though it might belong to one of Kermit’s cousins. The names are phonetically similar, and I’d always liked Kermit. Accordingly, I named a frog-like stuffed animal (one I made when I was seven) Sherman. He was one of my favorites for over a year until he disappeared on a camping trip. I was very sad. I’m kinda still sad. I wish he’d turn up. I have a photo of me and Sherman somewhere.
The next time I encountered the name was on Ken Burn’s documentary series, The Civil War. I don’t remember any aha moment relative to the Sesame Street song, but eventually I made the connection. I don’t think he figured heavily in Burn’s version of the story, only that his picture appeared and that he got at least two, probably three mentions. He was quoted as saying, of Grant, “I stood by him when he was drunk, and he stood by me when I was crazy.” The third clause in that little tribute, and now we stand by each other always, was not included. There was a line of narration saying “Sherman had begun his march to the sea,” but I don’t think there was much explanation of what that meant. I don’t remember how much else there was, what may have been left out verses what I saw and heard but have since forgotten.
All of which is a way of leading up to the fact that to this day, though I have learned much more about Sherman and come to like and admire him, I remain afraid to admit it to others. I am afraid, actually afraid, that whomever I am speaking to might hate him so much as to dislike me if I admit to thinking well of him.
Am I reacting to an impression gained from Ken Burns? Did that otherwise excellent documentary tell a tale on my friend that was at best incomplete and one-sided?
Or am I still following the advice of Muppets?
It’s a good idea to examine what you know or think you know and why you know it. You could end up a middle-aged writer afraid to have certain conversations because, back in the eighties, someone realized Savanna and banana rhyme.
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