Peanuts In My Pocket

This is a music essay I originally wrote during the pandemic as part of a personal music project. At the time, I was searching for ways to keep my mind occupied while trying to stay healthy and sane. I first shared it on Facebook, where it received some support from fellow sufferers. I’m posting it here now as part of my ongoing musical essay series. I asked ChatGPT for a title suggestion, “Tom Sawyer, Nightshift, and the Soundtrack of Suffering”, but I’ve decided to stick with the original title.

In the latter half of 1981, I began working the night shift on a grueling 12-hour, six-day-per-week schedule—from 6:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. The work was physically demanding and mentally draining. I was stationed in a structural repair shop, building and repairing parts for B-52s and KC-135s. Each night, I’d show up to find a B-52 wing flap—roughly the size of a garage door—waiting to be skinned, repaired, and re-skinned.

Removing solid rivets was monotonous; installing blind rivets offered a slight challenge, but the work remained largely repetitive. What made it worse was the unrelenting soundtrack of a now-forgotten hard rock radio station, blaring Rush’s “Tom Sawyer” every 15 minutes. I liked the song at first. After six months, I was ready to scream.

“A modern-day warrior
Mean, mean stride
Today’s Tom Sawyer
Mean, mean pride”

The shop’s radio system was under the iron-fisted control of a machinist named Big Daddy Rife. He had a perpetually sour disposition and held the rank of E-8 Master Sergeant, which essentially meant his way or the highway. He didn’t even work the night shift, yet he forbade anyone from touching the radio. Every evening at 6:00 p.m., he’d lock the controls in his office. The music never stopped. “Tom Sawyer” never stopped.

“Though his mind is not for rent
Don’t put him down as arrogant
His reserve a quiet defense
Riding out the day’s events
The river”

Most nights, I worked alone. There was a crew assigned to the flight line, but unless I was temporarily attached to them, I rarely saw anyone. My shift began with a broom and “Tom Sawyer,” and it ended the same way. It felt like a kind of living hell, worsened by the fact that I had no control over any of it.

“What you say about his company
Is what you say about society
Catch the mist
Catch the myth
Catch the mystery
Catch the drift”

Eventually, I decided to do something about the music. I spent some of my time tracing the speaker wiring. One night, using a lift, I reached the ceiling and quietly cut the wires, cleanly, so I could reconnect them before the day shift arrived. It worked for a few blissful weeks. But one evening, I walked into the shop and found Big Daddy and my sergeant waiting for me. I didn’t even try to deny it.

My punishment? Remedial duties. After finishing my regular shift, I washed cars, mowed grass, and crafted custom BBQ spatulas.

“The world is, the world is
Love and life are deep
Maybe as his skies are wide
Today’s Tom Sawyer, he gets high on you
And the space he invades, he gets by on you”

To this day, I can’t hear “Tom Sawyer” without cringing. It’s not that I dislike the song—objectively, it’s one of Rush’s best. But for me, it’s a trigger. It transports me straight back to those miserable nights, like a form of auditory PTSD. Once it plays, it sticks in my head like a parasite.

Listen at your own peril: Youtube Version