Skip to main content

On Musicals

One of my all time favorite story songs is: "I Had Myself a True Love," by Johnny Mercer. Mercer ranks among the great American songwriters. In "I Had Myself a True Love," the speaker, who has lost her man to a gal in "that damn old saloon," tells us a bit about coping with despair.

https://www.google.com/search?q=audra+mcdonald+i+had+myself&oq=audra+mcdonald+i+had+myself&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i60.2947j0j9&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8

The speaker informs us, casually, that this guy was a looker, "something to see." The speaker spends her days plotting ways in which she might get this guy back. Meanwhile, cruel tongues wag; everyone in town indulges in spiteful gossip about the speaker's sorrow; "the Lord knows I done heard those backyard whispers goin' round the neighborhood."

The song--which started with a reference to "the first thing in the morning"--builds to a climactic dinner scenario. "In the evening, by the doorway, while I stand there and wait for his coming....with the house swept....and the clothes hung....and the pot on the stove there a-humming....Where is he? While I watch the rising moon? With that gal? In that damn old saloon?"

I love this climax so much. I love the parallel structure: "house swept, clothes hung, pot on the stove a-humming." I love that the speaker seems to delay the big punchline; she seems not to want to envision the gal in the saloon, so she gives us prelude after prelude: "in the evening," "by the doorway," "while I stand there," "while I watch the rising moon."

A gift of loss is new self-knowledge. The speaker knows she wasn't adequately watching the gal who had designs on her man. "There may be a lot of things I miss," the speaker admits, with hard-won clarity. "A lot of things I don't know. But I do know this: Now I ain't got no love. And once upon a time I had a true love."

A story with a start and an end, with details, with understated emotion, and with a range of vocabulary appropriate to the character who is singing. Obsessed. I recommend Audra McDonald's version.

Lastly, the books on my mind right now:

"The Juniper Tree" (Comyns)
"Mitz" (Nunez)
"A Dedicated Man and Other Stories" (Taylor)
"A Fairly Good Time" (Gallant)
"The Sun King" (Mitford)
"Beverly, Right Here" (DiCamillo)

Happy Reading--and Listening!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...