Singin’ a song

There is so much to sing, isn’t there? Nursery rhymes. Rounds. Hymns. Folk songs. Popular songs. Nonsense.

J. Alfred Prufrock might have had a more entertaining life if he had measured it out in songs, instead of coffee spoons. The little they hold grows cold before it reaches the mouth. Coffee spoons are such a stingy measure, no one even uses them any more!

Songs, on the other hand, hold more than one would think possible on first inspection – tears and giggles, comfort and vexation, harmony and counterpoint. Framed in a song, almost anything can be considered through a few eloquent, soundful verses. Songs give voice to the joys and griefs that jangle inside us, unnamed and uncatalogued.

Remember Mama Cass singing “Make your own kind of music, Sing your own special song. Make your own kind of music, even if nobody else sings along”?

We are as perfectly designed for singing as we are for walking, or enjoying a good meal, or watching a sunset. Singing, especially with others, keeps us healthy.* And, as Terry Rapold said, “singing is the translation of music through the soul . . .”. Well, actually, being a world champion whistler, what he said was “Whistling . . .”.

He added, “. . . and people are afraid to let their souls out,” which rings true when you think about singing, too. A soul’s habitual expression remains its habit, whether it’s the way he or she walks down the street, eats supper or sings a song. We don’t let fear of other’s comments about our manner of moving or eating stop us from these everyday actions. Why do we let reactions to our singing muzzle our souls?

On a street in New York, little Alexa Ray was heard to say, “Stop singing, Daddy!” You’ve heard things like it, too, haven’t you? Along with things like, “don’t quit your day job!” and “sing solo, will ya? So low I can’t hear you!”

What, you may ask, could something said in New York City possibly have to do with you and me, here in Nova Scotia? Well, Alexa Ray’s Daddy’s other name is Billy Joel, Columbia Record’s biggest selling solo artist of the 20th Century. Makes you wonder how much influence should be granted to such remarks - and the remarkers. Maybe Alexa Ray only has ears for bluegrass, and the fact Daddy is one of the most recognizable performers in the world cuts no ice with her. You would agree, (wouldn’t you?), this daddy should really not stop singing? How tragic for our culture it would be to lose that voice.

How tragic to lose yours!

So sing – in choirs, at campfires, with your friends, while walking to work, while working around the home, with your children! Well, there’s so much to sing, isn’t there? This, when you think about it, is a nice way to measure a life: “her life spanned one million and seventy hundred songs” sounds better than an account of years to me. “Her life was one long song,” would be a great epitaph. *scientifically shown to boost the immune system by significantly increasing salivary levels of immunoglobulin-A