Bless the song that no one sings.....

 Today is the 6th day of the 30th week, the 24th day of the 7th month, the 205th day of 2026, and:

• Amelia Earhart Day
• Cousins Day
• International Self Care Day
• LumberJack Day
• National Drive Thru Day
• National Frozen Margarita Day
• National Tell an Old Joke Day
• National Tequila Day
• National Talk in an Elevator Day
• National Thermal Engineer Day - traditionally considered to be the hottest day of the year
• Pioneer Day - commemorates the Mormons' arrival to Salt Lake Valley in 1847 
• Samaritans Awareness Day 
• the moon is in the waning gibbous stage, 70% of full

Quote of the day:
"If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song."
~ Khalil Gibran - from the final chapter of The Prophet

The world is going to hell in a handbasket.  I am 76 years old and still working full-time because I cannot afford to retire - and currently struggling to fill two positions as my cohort is on vacation.  I'm still grieving for my son.  My daughter is going through a hellish time with an ex-to-be acting like a rectal cavity and failing Parenting 101.  One of my grandkids is autistic and the other one is suicidal - and both are very demanding.   My step daughter's significant other is a good man who is good for her, but who also thinks the dear leader makes sense.  And my cat is consistently overgrooming herself to the point where she has a large patch of bare skin down by her tail.  

So what do I obsessing about of late?

Songs

Not bird songs, theme songs.

Not movie or TV theme songs [insert earworm of choice here], but personal songs.  I've come to the realization that not everyone has a personal song.  What is a personal song, you ask?  er....  good question that.  

A personal song is a song that I automatically associate with a person [I know, thank you Captain Obvious].  For example, Richard Harris immediately conjures up "MacArthur Park"  or at least it does for most people - I find myself thinking of an album "A Tramp Shining" rather than one song.  Bruce Springsteen evokes "Born to Run" and Cindy Lauper "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun .  George Jones makes me think of "He Stopped Loving Her Today".   Frank Sinatra is forever coupled with "My Way" while Andy Williams' song is "Moon River" and Bing Crosby sings "White Christmas".   And who could ever forget Whitney Houston singing "I Will Always Love You" or Susan Boyle's audition of "I Dreamed a Dream?"

You see, song has always been a big part of my life.  Throughout the years, I have always sang - around the house, in the car [sometimes with sometimes without the radio], in choirs, in choruses, sitting with Grandmom Hughes, with my kids, with my grandkids.  Not that I claim to be a good singer, mind you!  I was never tapped for a solo - I just don't have that kind of a voice - but in my heyday, I had a three octave range and always possessed the ability to carry a tune by ear, so I got to sing a lot of different parts in a group.  Over the years, I have found that when I am not signing, it usually means something is awry.  I couldn't sing much after losing Grandmom Hughes, for example, and I have found that in times of blank grief or ill health, my voice dies away.  I describe it as being emotionally constipated.  

Over time certain songs attached themselves to those dear to me:  Grandmom Hughes' song is "How Great Thou Art", her favorite hymn and one I sang at her burial.  My father's song was his favorite "Wild Goose", which was quite appropriate for someone who was definitely born under a "Wandering Star."  Every night, when they were little, I sang lullabies to my kids - Tommy's was "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod" [altho the link will take you to a slightly different tune], personalized by having "a wee one's trundle bed" replaced by "Tommy's big bed".   Gem's was "Puff the Magic Dragon,"   with "Jackie Paper" replaced by "Jennifer Ann" .  When Tommy went off to the Navy, the song he requested for his memory cassette was "Red Sails in the Sunset", a modified version that Grandmom Hughes and I used to sing together that he liked.  That was what Gem and I sang as his scattered ashes floated away.  

Not everyone has a song that I automatically associate with them.  No one on my mother's side of the family did much in the way of singing and there is no song or music that meant more to them than any other that I ever knew about.  The grandkids sang with me in the bathtub, and had three of four songs that I would sing as lullabies to them, but nothing seems to have really stuck as they run through the repertoire of current pop music favorites.  Alex, however, is the only person I know who can rap all the songs from "Hamilton" in perfect beat and in sync with the actors. 

And I have realized that I myself don't have what I would call a personal song either.  I have favorites that I always sing, some dating back to the 7th grade when the music teacher was really into folks songs, I have music that I always play and albums that I have in every possible format available, but no one song that is "mine" that I can think of

I find it ironic and vaguely bothersome.  

PS:  Bless the song that no one sings is from "Lovers Such as I" from that Richard Harris album mentioned above