I was intrigued by the colors and the irony; the little boxes, though each with it's own color, they all look just the same. I don't mean simply the obviousness of the architecture, either. They each clearly bear the hand of the same person in the chosen palette of colors, as well. "Little boxes on the hillside, and they're all made out of ticky tacky........."
Malvina Reynolds was the folk singer who wrote this tune in 1962. Malvina and her husband Bud were on their way from their home in Berkeley, through San Francisco and down the peninsula to La Honda. She was on her way to a singing engagement at a meeting of the Friends’ Committee on Legislation (not the PTA, as Pete Seeger says in the documentary about Reynolds, “Love It Like a Fool”). As she drove through Daly City, she said “Bud, take the wheel. I feel a song coming on.”
I remember singing this as a kid. My sisters and I sang this ditty in the car when we would see houses that fit the bill. My beatnik parents had taught us to spot the bourgeois and mundane, things to avoid in life, and when we did, to sing this song. Wedged together in the back seat, we would sing our heads off which delighted our parents. Malvina would have been proud of all of us.
The lyrics are below and a video of Malvina singing Little Boxes, in case you don't remember the words or the tune. This is sure to infect you with an earworm for the day as my little gift to you. The term "ticky- tacky" is now included in the Oxford English Dictionary, and credited to Malvina.
Little Boxes
Little boxes on the hillside,Little boxes made of ticky tacky,
Little boxes on the hillside,
Little boxes all the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And the people in the houses
All went to the university,
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same,
And there's doctors and lawyers,
And business executives,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry,
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school,
And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university,
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same.
And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.
There's a green one and a pink one
And a blue one and a yellow one,
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same.