Spitball Army

When I first heard “Alicia Ross,” my initial impulse was to play it over again immediately.  I did.  Then I played it again.  The narrative voice in the lyrics was so strong that I wondered if it was perhaps based on a true story.  A quick googling of “Alicia+Ross” gave me a series of websites, including this one, titled “In Loving Memory of Alicia Ross.”

Alicia Ross disappeared in 2005, about the same time that Natalee Holloway vanished on her high school graduation trip to Aruba.  Here in Birmingham, Natalee Holloway’s place of residence, we heard daily updates on the Natalee situation for months.  I assume that the American press discussed her tragic story from coast to coast on a regular basis.  But, in the three years between the time that Alicia Ross was abducted and Kathleen Edwards’ meditation on the crime was released on CD, I had never heard mention of Alicia Ross once.

Maybe that says something about the self-absorption of us Americans, that we paid such little attention to a similar tragedy right across our border, a tragedy no less compelling or horrific than the one right here in our neighborhood.  Could it be that Canadians keep their misfortunes closer to themselves, that they operate with a stoicism that we do not?

What is not debatable is that Alicia Ross, in her short life, touched many people.  Those who knew her and those who have only heard her story share their thoughts and memories on an ongoing basis here.

I am a girl with a forgettable face
No matter my color, no matter my name
At work there is a boy and he treats me well
My old friends from high school,
I see them around

August is here I can’t believe how fast
Soon there will be winter and snow on the ground
Maybe by then I could get my own place
Closer to the city if that’s okay

Mamma, can you feel me?
As I dragged on my day’s last cigarette
He pulled me so hard off my
Very own back door steps

And he laid me in his garden
All the years I’ve watched him tend
And then he took me, Mamma,
So I could never tell you about it

Inside of this moment there are
Things that I wish I could know
Like your ring size, and my ring size,
And the hour I was born
And my dad’s middle name, and your favorite song
Was your darkest day as dark as this one?

Mamma, can you feel me?
As I dragged on my day’s last cigarette
He pulled me so hard off my
Very own back door steps

And he laid me in his garden
All the years I’ve watched him tend
And then he took me, Mamma,
So I could never tell you about it
Now I’m a girl whose face they’ll never forget

[audio:Kathleen_Edwards___Alicia_Ross.mp3]
“Alicia Ross” by Kathleen Edwards, from Asking For Flowers (2008)