Songs of the Soul

“For my soul delighteth in the song of the heart…”

Doctrine and Covenants 25:12

          My brother, Todd, used to sing a song to the tune of God Bless America. It went like this:

God bless my underwear, my only pair…

It was sung several times in a row, with the voice raising in tone as he sang “my only pair” and holding the last syllable. I can not listen to “God Bless America” without snickering and thinking of him.

          Where does this come from that causes one to pause and reflect just when we think we have forgotten them? My brother died over 25 years ago and I still grin in church, almost irreverently, when this song is sung.

          My dear friend Billy told about his aunt who was extra large. Her husband loved her very much. However, according to Billy, whenever she would come down the stairs, this uncle would sing to the tune of the annual Miss America Pageant theme song,

Here she comes, Miss America…representing all 50 States.

Every Breath You Take

          Speaking of Billy: We were driving together on the Golden State Freeway (I-5) in 1983 listening to the rock group, Police, sing Sting’s new hit, Every Breath You Take when I foolishly decided to out run a CHP (California Highway Patrol). Needless to say, my kids were literally aghast when they heard this story, knowing how obsessively, law-abiding I am. Billy had to pick up a delivery in the company truck. He took me with him to the city of Bell. I drove the way back to work, Chef America in  Sylmar. To this day, I can’t hear that song without thinking about this incident.

          Like I said, Sting was playing his song. The beat was wonderful. We were in the lane closer to the left. I saw the officer in the near-right-hand lane. All of a sudden this urge begged me to see if I could out-run a CHP! Of course he pulled me over. Fortunately the officer had a good sense of humor. He gave a I-know-what-you-were-doing-and-I-know-you-are-close-to-my-age-and-just-having-fun-but…glean in his eyes as he gave me a minor ticket. Whew!

          We never said a word to anyone. My step-mom was an office person for this same company. They were the original makers of the now-famous Hot Pocket sandwiches. One day, she asked in a sly-knowing tone, “So, how’d you get the ticket?” OH MY WORD! How could I think she would NOT find out! I explained and all was forgiven. Except that now I do not like that song. Not only does it remind me of how stupid I was, but it reminds of a stalker.  

           Two of my dad’s favorite songs were Rock of Ages and How Great Thou Art. He wanted them sung at my mission farewell. They reminded him of his mother. I was 21 and did not like those two songs! I felt that since this was my event, only songs that I really appreciated would be performed. Here I was, getting ready to serve the Lord, and I did not even have the compassion to allow my own father to play two pieces that held the utmost sentimentally to him. I am not sure where I gave in, but in the end, my dad played How Great Thou Art on his guitar. I was going to South Carolina and they were standards in that part of the country. They, too, have become two of my favorite pieces of music; the meanings going far deeper than the original meanings were meant to. Sentiments from my grandmother who had long ago passed on, and then guilt and remorse for the way I treated my father.

          Coming from the West where the music was sung at a faster tempo, I had difficulty keeping up with the slower tempo when I first arrived in Gaffney, South Carolina. In an effort to blend in, I joined the church choir. I was frequently singled out in front of the others to stay on key. On one particularly memorable Sunday, I sang with all of my heart, wondering at the upturned, concerned looks from the audience. After church the choir director asked me not to sing with the choir. Dejected, I walked away, determined not to sing in public again. I never have.

 I think that too much emphasis is put on the greatness of those who can sing. Yes, it is a talent that I wish that I could have. But I also think that true greatness comes from one’s other talents such as integrity, courage, and fortitude. Too many people can sing a song who have no depth. Not a lot of people with depth can sing. It makes one wonder at where society’s values lie.

It took having a granddaughter who can actually carry a tune to finally take me out of my shell – sort. I will sing with her in front of a couple of people – only as encouragement for her.

The beauty of technology is that it allows us to recapture a long, lost favorite song. There have been several for me. One in particular is the theme song from the hit series, M*A*S*H*. I hear that song and am transported to another time and place from here. I am still a teen-ager living in Mission Hills, California. My younger brothers, who are either dead or larger men with children of their own, are still little boys doing whatever they would do at the time.

 From the first notes of the opening scenes, a feeling of well-being enveloped us. When I hear the opening music, I suddenly feel as if I’m still in the late 1970’s, early 1980’s. We would do our chores, get something to eat, and go to the bathroom during the “commercial.”

For our neighborhood at the corner of Tuba and Noble Avenue, the world revolved around M*A*S*H* - and sports. Every night around 7:00 or 7:30 we had to watch it. If Frank Burns was going to be in it, the show was sure to be good. We watched M*A*S*H* during the week and then we would go to the hockey games and look for the actors there. Jamie Farr, who played “Clinger,” would sit near the ice, usually with his driver. Occasionally, a young kid who looked like his son would sit next to him. Jamie Farr would drink coffee with his driver. We watched this exchange using Billy’s dad’s binoculars.

            As a result, my own kids grew up watching the show. When my kids were younger, we would watch it on DVD’s. I could close my eyes while the music was playing and I would be 15 or 16 years old again. We bought the entire series. When my daughter had children, her oldest started watching it. Whenever she would hear the theme song, she stopped whatever she was doing and moved her hands as if she was leading the orchestra. Late one night I realized that I could probably buy a copy from amazon.com. Incredible! So we downloaded it to the computer and then onto the mp3 player. Every time I would play the song for Lizzy, she would stop whatever she was doing and look in awe and then lead the “orchestra.”The song soothes me like a lullaby to a place that is only available in my memory.

          Loretta Switt played Margaret Hulahan. Margaret reminded me of Judy Schumacher, except that Margaret had blonde hair and Judy’s was dark brown. Judy, like Margaret, could put a person in their place without any effort. I can also see myself as Margaret – in charge and bossy. Billy’s mom was bossy because of her protective, mother bear-like qualities. I was bossy because I, too, had protective, mother bear-like qualities as I continued to watch over my children and grandchildren.

          Billy reminded me of BJ Hunicutt and Hawkey Pierce. BJ was the peace-maker and Hawkeye was the leader of the group and always into mischief. He and Margaret continually butted heads all the while maintaining a high level of respect and occasional romance. 

Petula Clark

                Dancing with my granddaughters to her music one summer morning, I remembered with such fondness of the year we moved back to Longmont, Colorado. It was early Fall 1975. We were too poor to afford a television set. Dad set up the record player with a stack of records that played what seemed like on and on and on. Petula Clark’s music was part of that stack.

                Being able to stay on key is not one of my strengths. But I would belt out those songs as if I was a super star on stage. Pity the poor soul who was in earshot as my voice reverberated:

My love is warmer than the warmest sunshine

Softer than a sigh.

My love is deeper than the deepest ocean

Wider than the sky.

My love is brighter than the brightest star

That shines every night above

And there is nothing in this world

 Than can ever change my love.

(Terius Nash, Tony Hatch)

                Several years later we moved back to California. My high school sweetheart, Billy, became the target for these lyrics as I professed my undying love and devotion to him by singing those words to an unseen audience.

                The morning my grandchildren and I spent dancing and singing to this, my dad was gradually slipping from us. My voice choked at the memory. Rare is it that I will sing out loud because I know what I sound like and have issues about inflicting unnecessary pain on innocent people, especially children. Listening to the likes of “Downtown” and its message of hope if one just went “downtown” to view the sites. One might even find an opportunity to help another, thus making everything better. I wanted to make things better for my father.

Feelin’ Groovy

Hello Lamppost, what ya knowin’?

I come to watch your flowers growin’

Just walking round the cobblestones.

Life is groovy

(Simon & Garfunkle)

                I still see Blake singing those words with Dad. He’s this cute little guy trying so hard to be like his father. Dad is strumming his acoustic guitar. Bake focusing on staying on tune, not more than ten years old.

And then I hear,

The Mademoisell from Armetieres “Parley voo”

The Mademoisell from Armetieres, “Parley voo”

The Mademoiselle fro Armetieres

She hadn’t been kissed for forty years

Hinky stink parley voo.

                Todd is singing with a swaggering attitude and pretending to play a guitar, his head cocked up and his eyes rolled skyward, his tongue curled. All the while Dad is accompanying him. And instead of singing, Hinky Dinky “Parley Voo” as the song suggests, they would sing, Inky Stinky, “Parley Vooooo.”

Kelli McDonald
2013