March, 2016. On the public bus in Eastbourne, England, during a semester student-teaching abroad. Besieged by the torrent of lesson plans, marking papers, 30 British 13-year-olds running amok, culture shock, painfully early mornings.
Those bus rides were the calm before the storm. My rare moments to breathe in the public solitude that introverts need as direly as oxygen. The soundtrack to those sacred commutes kept me sane, especially the therapeutic Americana of Simon and Garfunkel. “America” did the trick. It stirred my simmering feelings of homesickness, of being overwhelmed in a strange land, saddled with the most daunting workload of my then-short teaching career. That tale of road tripping lovers felt so pure, so simple, and 5000 miles removed from my present. “Only Living Boy in New York” stoked the emotional fire too. It ripped off the band aid and exposed raw emotions to the air. It stung, the same way iodine does.
The real heavy hitter of the bunch, though, turned out to be an unassuming album track off Bookends. On certain golden English spring mornings (or afternoons), I’d find myself shattered by an innocent, twinkling toy piano. Tears welling up as I retreated from the chaos of reality and into the sweet sonic embrace of “Punky’s Dilemma.”
It opens simply, with gentle, tinny acoustic guitar keeping the tempo for a few bars. After the rhythm settles in, Paul Simon’s soothing, reedy voice begins:
Wish I was a Kellogg’s Cornflake,
floatin’ in my bowl, takin’ movies,
And in that moment, I was a Kellog’s Cornflake.
Anxiety melted away. For two minutes and twelve seconds, I could escape.
With clinking toy piano, finger-snap snares, and warm, bouncing bass joining the mix, the backing music quickly sets a quirky and childish tone. In my mind’s eye, it was the sound of silent morning sun streaming through a window so brightly that you can see rays illuminating dust particles in the air; turning an ordinary living room into a magical world. A fairyland. Seeing the mundane through the eyes of a child. Unknowingly striking perfect harmonious balance between reality and imagination.
I wish I was an English muffin,
’bout to make the most out of a toaster,
I’d ease myself down,
comin’ up brown
These whimsical musings blend so well with the playful optimism of the backing music that “Punky’s Dilemma” unlocks a place of nostalgic safety which no other song has ever done for me. It’s a gem amongst gems; too often overlooked in Simon and Garfunkel’s deep discography of more immediate tunes. The power that it has over me is a testament to the subjectivity of art (“One man’s trash . . .” and so on). It’s also a convincing argument for listening more.
There’s a song out there for everyone; a sonic soulmate that will make itself known if you keep your ear to the ground. The kind of song that makes the world around you swirl down the drain every time you queue it up. “Punky’s Dilemma” may very well be mine.
The Healthy Alternative 
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