Music hath charms

This morning I had to drive twenty miles to Windham, Maine, because that's the nearest branch of my bank and I had to deposit a check that had been sitting around undeposited for too long.  It was yet another rainy morning, kind of sad for this area of Maine which depends on beach-going, canoeing, hiking tourists for its summer income and excitement (but nice for residents like me because there was no traffic).

Radio reception here is not very good so I poked my CD buttons and listened first to the soundtrack from the Almodovar film "Talk to Her"...one of my favorites....while I drove.  Then when it finished, it moved along to the second CD in the player, which was a homemade one, recorded (but later rejected in favor of a different set of songs) for Martin's memorial celebration.  I had, prior to the day of that gathering, sat at my computer and put together various combinations of his favorites. (Tough to narrow it down because he had so many).

Anyway, what began to play this morning was Billie Holiday singing "I'll be Seeing You." The lyrics are very familiar to everyone over, say, 40; but here, as a reminder:

I'll be seeing you in all the old familiar places

That this heart of mine embraces all day through

In that small café, the park across the way

The children's carousel, the chestnut trees, the wishing well

 

I'll be seeing you in every lovely summer's day

In everything that's light and gay

I'll always think of you that way

I'll find you in the mornin' sun

And when the night is new

I'll be looking at the moon

But I'll be seeing you

Oh my. First, the haunting Holiday voice. (Martin's favorite of her best-known songs, because of its searing civil-rights message, was "Stange Fruit.")  But then the lyrics, which so captured the poignance of saying goodbye to someone who has been such a part of one's life. I was literally driving past all the old familar places...the cafés, the parks, the chestnut trees (averting my eyes from McDonald's and Tru-Value).

I did not have to pull over and stop. Instead, I hummed along. But as the CD continued....through Judy Collins singing "Amazing Grace,"  Pete Seeger singing "Turn turn turn," Louis Armstrong's "Wonderful World", and Yo Yo Ma playing a Bach cello suite...I was awash in a mixture of sad and happy nostalgia.

It is not, however, a lovely summer day and I will not find Martin, or memories of him, in the mornin' sun because there ISN'T any. But he is there in the music.

The final collection that we used at the celebration was narrowed down (with difficulty) to only four selections: Richard Stoltzman, Judy Collins, Willie Nelson (Martin used to say, "Sing it purty, Willie"), and Louis Armstrong:

I see trees of green, red roses too

I see them bloom for me and you

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

 

I see skies of blue and clouds of white

The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night

And I think to myself what a wonderful world.

 

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky

Are also on the faces of people going by

I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do

They're really saying I love you.

 

I hear babies cry, I watch them grow

They'll learn much more than I'll ever know

And I think to myself what a wonderful world

Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world.

 

The bright blessed day. Yes.  Even when it's raining.

Comments

[Portia Pennington]

Bless you. Thinking of you, in the rain, with the music, with your memories.

[Sally Bender]

Our family did the same thing eight and a half years ago when we lost my husband and Erin and Bret's beloved Dad. Music was so much a part of our family road trips, of bits of humor as he always made up his own words if he couldn't remember them and a connection through us to the people who attended the memorial service. I still listen to those songs often: sometimes with tears, often with a smile and always with wonderful memories of a terrific father and husband. So much connects us and keeps our loved ones forever in our hearts.

[Shawnie]

Last week I had an hour between leaving work and meeting people for dinner, so I browsed around a bookstore. I opened a collection of Alice stories by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor and found it was dedicated to Martin Small. I assume this must be your Martin- I think I've read before that you and Phyllis are friends. Anyway, I thought of you, and wanted to let you know.

[Lois Lowry]

Yes, that was "my" Martin. That was a book with some references to chamber music in it, and he acted as her advisor since that was his field of expertise. Another of Phyllis's books..I think it was called "Blizzard"...has my brother, a doctor, listed in the acknowledgements, because he helped her out with some medical information. And my book called "The Silent Boy" acknowledges Phyllis, because the book is illustrated with old photos, and one came from her family.
I'm glad you reminded me of all of this!