Son Of The Magic Soap Man

A couple of years ago while making my usual amount of industrial research telephone calls in my leads pile at work for the state of Wisconsin, I came across one lead, that for one reason or another, I actually knew. I was excited, thrilled & quite happy to say the least, when I had the chance to connect with part of my past, that being Dr. Bronner Soaps. Without saying too much about Dr. Bronner (it's better to go to his website to see what I'm referring to), I called the lead & received an answering machine, which is about 70 percent of my work, answering machines.

Still, I left a message on his answering machine, thinking not to be called back, because that too, is about what happens 99 percent of the time. So, while getting ready to leave for the weekend & putting together my various piles of good calls, disconnects & wrong numbers, my phone rang. It was Ralph Bronner, son of the late Dr. Bronner, the man who produced the famous soaps.

Work policy dictates that we are supposed to be on the phone with a lead not more than 5 minutes tops. By the time I got off the phone, it was nearly an hour later! I loved listening to Ralph's stories about his father & about his travels as well. One of the things Ralph asked me was how many people were in my group at work & I told him, because he said he would send me a case of hemp shampoo. Sure enough, two weeks later, at my apartment, I received a case of hemp shampoo which I passed out to my co-workers who were more than happy to have it. Some of them even knew of Dr. Bronner's Soaps as well.

As it turned out, the actual soap factory was based in California, not Wisconsin. It just tuned out that Ralph, the vice-president of the company, lives in Wisconsin & that in my company's California state industrial guide, Dr. Bronner's Soaps factory is already listed.

In the weeks that followed, my supervisor accused me of smoking the hemp shampoo every time I misplaced paperwork. About a month later, I received a card from Ralph with a $50 bill inside, that in essence thanked me & told me to take a friend to dinner! I was flabbergasted. The next time I spoke to Ralph, was Mother's Day, when he invited me to his 167th birthday party he was having in June. Unfortunately, I was unable to go. Yet, I continued giving out the shampoo to people who not only knew about Dr. Bronner to people with bewildered looks on their faces, as if I was some freak who was giving them crack whiskey or something.

I've kept in touch with Ralph over the past few years, mostly by phone, but I digress slightly. Tomorrow, Ralph Bronner turns 169 years old & that's where I'm headed, to his 169th birthday party in Newburg, Wisconsin. It'll be a good time for sure & a fun way to spend a Sunday. And at long last, I will get to meet the wonderful son of soap genius.

Below this, is a parody I wrote a few years ago based on the Alfred Noyes poem, The Highwayman, with musical adaptation provided by the late Phil Ochs, who was a great fan of Noyes.

I've also left behind the website for Dr. Bronner Soaps. As always, enjoy!

The Magic Soap Man

The phone remained silent, it was late Friday afternoon
Had been gathering my data for a paperwork monsoon
When the phone rang, a voice came rambling over, it was Ralph Bronner
The son of the man who cleansed the pole that had once slipped right through my hands
And so my story began

I was a lad of zero when I first discovered soap
I ate it, I drank it, and I rubbed with it
Until I learned to grope
Soap became my friend whence upon
A fate I grew into

As I boycotted it at age 12 for still reasons unclear
Kids at school sniffed at me and started to disappear
Oh, alone I found myself, but myself I would always be
A friend when no one cared about
Stinking flesh like me

Oh, my teenage years rolled around, rolled forward like a spray of steam,
I kept on denying myself things I had always dreamed
Well at age 18, I stood up and I did rebel,
Away went the corduroys and collars, and out popped the jeans & the tees
And I told my parents to go straight to hell

At age 20, I stood so alone in Chicago town
Didn't know a friend from a foe, didn't know my way around
Whence I peered into a window of a health food store and what should I see should have not been there, but a dream I dreamt so long ago
So long ago, had now become starkly bare

On a dusty shelf it stood
Stood out so alone, a different bar of soap
With a wrapper of crazy writings, psalms, poetry and fables that I had not known
Oh, this writing, yes this writing, oh yes this writing
Took me back to where I had not known

So I went inside, bought this bar & took it home, well the funniest phenomena followed & tickled my funny bone
As I showered, I felt so much like a promiscuous canin terrier that had been pinched real hard by a whole army of fire-red ants
When all at once I got a tingly sensation
That felt like I had bitten off a York Peppermint Patty inside my pants

Well, that was 21 years ago and so much like yesterday it seems
The golden rule of cleanliness has become my mantra theme
I use powders, sprays, deodorants, and drugs
To make my appearance more insatiable
And to attract all the girls who will give me more than just hugs

To think I owe it all to Dr. Bronner, the man, his wrappers & his magic soap
Gave me reason to believe one can have happiness without exchanging hope
And now when I take a shower the soap keeps bubbling as I rub
Yes, the soap keeps bubbling, keeps bubbling
Yes, the soap keeps bubbling up through the whole bathtub

http://www.drbronner.com/