My Way
Hi Daddy! It’s me again. Everything is oK down here. I’m not going to get into what a year we had. Mommy can tell you. I told her all about it last month on Mother’s Day.
Here’s something really weird though. I’m actually catching up to the age you were when you left us. The gap gets smaller and smaller every year. I wonder how I’ll feel when I’m older than you were. Promise me I’ll always be your little girl. What happens when I see you in heaven and I’m gray and you’re not. 😳
Last week I wrote a really fun blog asking friends to name their top 5 pop songs ever and a couple of people picked one of your favorites: “My Way.” I remember how you secretly thought that song was written especially for you. (That’s a songwriter doing their job). You lived by its creed. Your life was full. You said the things you truly felt. You loved, laughed and cried and had little regret. The record absolutely shows you did it your way.
The original version of the song “Comme d'habitude” (translated to “As Usual”) was performed by French recording artist Claude François. It was a man’s lament of a bleak and lifeless relationship. But Paul Anka must have heard something magnificent in the melody and felt it deserved a matching story. With permission to adapt the song into English he wrote a lyric for his friend Frank Sinatra and the rest is history.
You adored music Daddy, even though you couldn’t play a note on any instrument. Every Sunday morning over pancakes or bagels you spun a vinyl Broadway show-tune on the turntable in the living room. The Sound of Music. South Pacific. Fiddler On The Roof. No wonder I wanted to audition for every Freeport High School musical.
“Matchmaker Matchmaker make me a match!”
How you loved Nat King Cole’s “Smile”…Man oh man. “Smile” made me cry every time and it still does. (Another songwriter — Charlie Chaplin — doing his job.)
The Beatles “Michelle” was the song that finally convinced you they were more than four mop-tops making noise.
Then there was “Alfie.” I mean, C’mon! Talk about melody. So many pop hooks today stay on one note (or 2)…on purpose! It’s all about the algorithm. What’s an algorithm, you ask? Oh, let’s not even go there. But trust me, “Alfie” was not derived via algorithm.
I used to laugh when you called songs “numbers” as in “I love that number.” Now the kids say “that track is dope.” I know, I know Daddy. It’s silly.
I can’t help but wonder if I gave the songs — I mean numbers — you loved extra credit because I trusted you and in doing so I latched onto your idea of what quality was. But in fact your taste was stellar. I wasn’t copying you at all. The songs you loved were masterpieces. Universally beloved. Timeless. They moved me too.
And what about “People”? — a poignant introspective commentary on how much we humans need each other. (After what we’ve been through this past year — again, ask mommy — I appreciate this song more than ever.) As if the song alone wasn’t eloquent enough Barbara Streisand, your favorite singer, graced her voice on it. You were gleeful at the pairing.
Here’s an ironic thing though…had I showed up at a writing session and a co-writer said “hey let’s write a song called ‘People’” I would have thought…yeeesh. Really?
But the strength of a title depends on how artfully and effectively the idea it represents is executed.
Jule Styne and Bob Merrill were able to fulfill that obligation. That title, which could have been trite turned out to be anything but.
The songs we cherish say a lot about who we are. And your favorites were filled with heart, empathy, humanity, hope and pride. All things that you embodied.
I’m so grateful that you exposed me to music, Daddy. And especially these wonderful numbers. 🙂Hopefully one day we’ll sing them all…when we’re together again.
Happy Father’s Day. 💓
This one’s for you…
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