I’m not sure if people sing anymore, or just listen to music on their devices. I grew up without “devices,” and you know what? We got along fine, and had plenty of exposure to music.
The first music I can really recall was my dad singing to me.
“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”
I don’t remember ever hearing my dad say he loved me, but I always knew it because he sang to me. Don’t Fence Me In was a favorite, along with many other popular songs of the day. Mom’s specialty was silly songs like Mairzy Doats and Zippity Do Da. One grandmother taught me Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree and, When You and I Were Young, Maggie. My Omaha grandparents took me to movies; mostly musicals.
When neighbors dropped by of an evening to visit, the adults chatted or played cards. In good weather, we kids played hide and seek until we were out of breath and then dangled our feet out the door of the hayloft and sang to the moon.
In elementary school, the day began with music. We got to choose a few favorites from the song book, and always closed with a patriotic song before saying the Pledge of Allegiance. I wonder now, how many of our young folks know all the words to God Bless America.
Our small high school had no bus, so when parents transported carloads of us to away games, we passed time harmonizing on songs that we learned listening to the radio. We also had to sit through a weekly music appreciation class which none of us enjoyed, but today I can recognize several classical pieces, and all of Sousa’s marches.
My children’s father sang a lot. Blue Skies was his favorite, back when we believed our skies would always be cloudless. We’ll Sing in the Sunshine came along later, after we learned the sun always comes out eventually.
Bruce and his guitar charmed me; one of the earliest songs he sang for me was, Look at You, Girl. He hasn’t gotten the guitar out for a while but he still sings, and I always stop to listen.
Music shaped my life, and attitudes about how to live. We sang some sad songs, but most of them were about love, and happy times. Maybe a lot of that was because during the Second World War we needed hope, and after it ended, we celebrated and rejoiced. So, the question in my mind is this. Does music reflect our culture or shape it? Some of both, I think, and if so, that presents choices about what we sing, or listen to.
I ponder sometimes, on ways that I took away my dad’s sunshine. Thoughtlessly, of course, and now that I realize the impact that must have had, I wish I could live those times over. But the only way to make those amends is to find some sunshine to sing in today, and hope that makes a difference to someone who doesn’t feel much like singing.