Sentimental Songs

While I immensely enjoyed humming with "M" throughout last year's holiday season, it pales in comparison to the pleasantly surprising sound of "V"s soft singing, barely audible, as she accompanied the closing tune to one of her favorite television programs the other night.

 

"V" has been home from the rehabilitation center for several weeks, and this past weekend was my third shift with her since the discharge.  My duties have changed somewhat in response to "V"s slightly altered physical needs.  Specifically, I now awake with her three or four times during the night to assist her in using the commode, rather than sleeping straight through 'til morning, accompanied by the soothing sound of her snoring. 

 

She is having trouble sleeping, and her internal time clock seems to be a bit off, which is not an uncommon condition after a hospitalization. 

 

When I ask "V" if anything is bothering her or what is on her mind, her reply is usually, "I'm worried that you won't get any sleep."

 

"Don't worry about me!" I always scold her in a gentle tone.  "You're the one who needs to rest so you can get strong again!"

 

Then, "V" typically sighs with a resigned, "You're right." 

 

I have adjusted to the new nighttime routine, and do not mind the change.  Mostly, I am concerned about "V" getting enough sleep, although she has taken to dozing more often during the day, and sometimes during the evening as well!  I thought for sure that the Fred Astaire/Ginger Roger classic "Top Hat" showing on TMC would rouse her on Christmas night, when I worked an extra shift with her, but not even Fred and Ginger's amazing talents could hold "V"s attention.  For my part, I was absolutely enamored by their skills, and keep picturing them swirling in perfect rhythm in my head!

 

After the extra holiday shift with "V", followed by a day off, I returned to her home last Friday evening to complete my regular weekend assignment.

 

As I reflect on the shift now in somewhat shortened hindsight, I feel safe in stating that this particular time spent with "V" was distinguished by three distinctively sentimental songs.  And as I describe the events surrounding each tune, you will hopefully feel the same melancholia, not uncommon at this time of year, that I experienced with "V".

 

To start off, I had to gas up my little Blue Honda Fit before heading over the river and through the woods to "V"s home.   Actually, that's not entirely true.  I gas up on the other side of the river when traveling to "V"s county because the price of fuel is generally ten to fifteen cents cheaper!  With as much driving as I do, I can't afford to waste even a few pennies!

 

I was feeling a bit melancholy last Friday afternoon even before I got to "V"s house, reflecting on the events of the past year... What I should have done, what I wish I didn't do, how I should be focusing on what I did do... Typical thoughts at the end of a year.

 

My spirits were not helped as I heard the soulfully sad lyrics of Dan Fogelberg's 1980 song "Same Old Lang Syne" amazingly streaming from the gas pump along with the fuel.  That was my senior year in high school, and memories not that different from the song's theme began to flood my brain, along with a few tears. 

 

"Now you're just being silly," I muttered to myself, and tried thinking of happier topics, like the fact that I'd be spending another weekend with "V"!

 

When I arrived at "V"s house, I chatted with her daytime caregiver for a while, and then started making preparations for dinner.  Beans and franks accompanied by a side salad, "V"s with the usual healthy tomatoes, cucumbers, and olives, and mine with stale, dried out raisins (they do have vitamins and minerals in them according to the box!).

 

During our meal, we leave the television on, and the volume is turned up high so that "V" can hear the nightly news, thereby knowing if we will finish eating in time for "Jeopardy."

 

For some reason, perhaps the simplicity of the meal, we finished about ten minutes early, so I helped "V" to her reclining chair in the living room where she sits most of the time.

 

A story on the ABC Nightly News caught our attention, probably because it was atypical from the daily stories of global warming weather disasters, ongoing national budget crises, and endless overseas conflicts.  Same old same old.

 

A very old man was on the TV screen, and both "V" and I listened intently as the reporter narrated the story in detail.  Fred Stobaugh, a very nondescript ninety-six year old gentleman from Peoria, Illinois recently published his first song, a loving little ditty to his wife of seventy-five years, Lorraine.  He had entered the tune, the first he had ever penned, in a local song-writing contest.  Moved by the touching tribute, the production company, Green Shoe Studio, recorded the song with a professional singer and Fred's active participation.  As Fred and the accompanying guitar player sang the lyrics to "Oh Sweet Lorraine," images of the couples' life together flashed before our eyes.  It didn't take very long before "V" and I both reached for the box of tissues on the little side table next to her reclining chair, dabbing the tears that slowly steamed down our faces.  I knew what "V", soon to be ninety-six years old herself, was thinking about.  Her late husband.  Although they had not made it to the seventy-five year mark like Fred and Lorraine Stobaugh, "V" and her husband had nonetheless shared a significant number of decades as husband and wife, filled with memories of treasured times spent together.  Ever-so-softly, I patted "V"s shoulder.  In response, she reached over and patted my hand.  No words were exchanged.  They were not needed.

 

I was never so happy to see Alex Trebek in my entire life!  America's second favorite game, right behind the upcoming "Wheel of Fortune."  Ahhhhhh...  Some much-needed levity.

 

The rest of the evening was uneventful (thankfully), consisting of an hour of channel surfing until "V" finally found "Everybody Loves Raymond."  Ahhhhhh...  More much-needed levity.

 

The following day, Saturday, was also fairly uneventful.  "V" easily played Solitaire on her I-Pad as I struggled to turn on my new Kindle Fire that a dear friend had given me for Christmas.  Darned technology!  There had to be an on button hidden somewhere! 

 

"Maybe," I wondered after quite a bit of frustration, "I should just ask "V" to find the button!"

 

There were other events throughout the day, of course.  Mail time (mostly junk, but still fun to look through).  Phone calls (happy holiday wishes from a few old friends).  And a lovely lunch spent in "V"s sunny dining room.  The temperature had sored to forty degrees that afternoon, and the warmth of the sunlight felt warm and welcome as it shone in through the sliding glass doors.  The field of beans, still somewhat visible, was a mixture of sagging yellowish stalks interspersed with patches of pristine white snow.  Overhead, some hopeful blackbirds dove down in a comical attempt to break through the hardened soil and find some supper.  I couldn't help but think of "M", now living permanently in Florida, wondering what type of birds she was looking at...

 

Dinner was enjoyable, as "V" and I treated ourselves to a meal and a movie.  Captivated by a cable channel showing "The Da Vinci Code" for the umpteenth time, "V" and I stayed in our seats for three hours, with me warming up the baked ziti that my mother had generously prepared for us during the lengthy commercial breaks. 

 

"How nice to have a traditional Italian meal prepared by a real Italian!" "V" declared after eating the delicious dinner.

 

"I'll make sure to tell her that!" I promised (and I have since kept that promise!).

 

8:00 pm rolled around, and it was time for "V" to watch her two favorite British comedies that were broadcast weekly on our local PBS affiliate.  The past four weeks leading up to Christmas had been filled with fundraisers, so the programs, much to "V"s disappointment, were not shown.  But now that Christmas had come and gone (how in the world did that happen?), television programming was beginning to return to its post-holiday normalcy.

 

The first one, a classic BBC comedy called "Keeping Up Appearances", gave us a half hour filled with much needed and quite genuine laughter.  Very funny stuff!

 

The second one, another BBC classic starring Dame Judi Dench that ran for an amazing thirteen seasons (counting the reunion specials), was entitled "As Time Goes By."  This particular program relied a little less on the comedy, and always mixed a bit of melancholia into each episode.

 

Great!  Just what we needed!  More melancholia!

 

The episode itself was wonderful, and I'm happy to say that no tissues were needed by neither "V" nor myself.

 

The closing theme, however, is a different story.  As the credits roll, the words to the 1931 Herman Hupfold classic, immortalized when Sam sang it again for the lovesick Humphrey Bogart in the classic film "Casablanca, are sung again, but not by Sam.  To be honest, I'm not sure who sings the song at the end of the show, although I'm certain I could Google it in an instant (and I sincerely apologize to the singer for not doing so now, but I'm on a roll here!).

 

This week, however, the soulfully sentimental lyrics were sung by "V" herself.  Up to this point, I had never heard "V" sing.  Characteristically demure and private by nature, I generally do not expect her to burst out in song.  Now I, on the other hand...  Well... We'll save that rather frightening image for another time...

 

Looking over at "V", softly singing along with the song, I could see her smiling, ever-so-slightly as a few tears rolled down my cheek.  I had a feeling that this wasn't just Humphrey Bogart's and Ingrid Bergman's song, immortalized by Sam (the unforgettable Dooley Wilson) in the 1943 film, but that perhaps this had been "V"s and her late husband's song.  The movie came out around the time of their courtship and marriage, and, based on the far-away expression on her face, the song seemed to hold great significance to her... perhaps in the same way that Dan Fogelberg's "Same Old Lang Syne" does for me.  Long-ago memories (hers obviously longer than mine), filled with hope and promise for the future as two young people experience their first love.  Sometimes, as is the case with Fred and Lorraine, the love is shared for a wonderfully long time.  Other times, as with "V" and her husband, it is cut a little too short.  And every now and then, which was the case with me, the love never fully had the chance to bloom into beautiful maturity.

 

What a sentimental and melancholy weekend for "V" and I.

 

I can't wait for New Years' Eve, when I do another extra shift with her!

 

But in all honesty, there is no one else I would rather share it with.   The opportunity to enter 2014 with a beautiful, incredibly inspiring woman who will turn ninety-six years young in February of this year.  And to share another song with her,  "Old Lang Syne."  First written by Robert Burns in 1788 as a Scottish folk tune and now sung around the world on New Years Eve, the song has become symbolic of letting go of the past and welcoming in the present.  A new beginning for everyone everywhere, every single year. 

 

HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of you readers, and may the New Year bring nothing but peace, love and happiness to you all!