The architect and the artist took turns singing her to sleep at night. Whether it be the architect, or the artist, after reading the book, they would sing. Not because they were good at it, they weren’t, but because it worked.
Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
It’s true, at first she just ate the cardboard copies of But Not the Hippopotamus, and Moo Ba La La La, but always expedient she quickly got the gist of them. Before Long the demand for continual readings of the Velveteen Rabbit, or Where the Wild Things Are wore out the architect and the artist.
Golden slumbers fill your eyes
Smiles awake you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
Exhausted, the architect and the artist found a way to lull their mewling child to sleep. Despite being left out of the club for those with the blood of the gifted voice running through their veins, they each chose their favorite lullaby, and sang it to her whenever the need arose.
Once there was a way to get back homeward
Once there was a way to get back home
Sleep pretty darling do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby
As for their choice of lullabies, they’ve always been questionable. When asked why those songs, the answer would always be, because they worked.
Boy,(girl) you’re going to carry that weight,
Carry that weight a long time
Boy,(girl) you’re going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
One never knows what a year of singing a specific couple of songs to a baby will do. (Though I hear that the question occurred to them both at least once while giving their midnight A cappella concert, rocking their daughter in her nursery.) Does it carve a path or make an outline, like tracing paper except in the neurological pathways? She doesn’t know of course. She only knows these songs were the only songs sung to her at night, in that rocking chair, the first eighteen months of her life.
I never give you my pillow
I only send you my invitations
And in the middle of the celebrations
I break down
The child, now a woman, will always wonder if these lullabies some how made her what she is.
Boy,(girl) you’re going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
Boy,(girl) you’re going to carry that weight
Carry that weight a long time
–
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Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight/, the lullaby chosen by her mother, was part of “The Medley” from The Beatles, Abbey Road,1969. The last part of this medley The End was not part of their repertoire, but is probably the most well known part of the medley.
—
Not meaning to complicate the life of his innocent screaming baby girl, no harm was meant, she holds no grudge, the architect would always sing a full rendition of 4 + 20. The baby girl, now much older of course, wishes everyone such parents, but wonders if her life would have been different had her parents ditched the Golden Slumbers/Carry That Weight - Four and Twenty, and settled for Rock A Bye Baby.
She then logically concludes, rocking from the tree tops, breaking branches, and plummeting cradles would have been, most assuredly, more psyche demolishing.
Your babies don’t need LEARNING TABLES, INFANT PLAYMATS or that MADE FOR ME MP3 MUSIC PLAYER. They just need you to sing to them.
Peace
Four and Twenty, my favorite lullaby. From the Album/CD, DeJa Vu. Performed above by Stephen Stills, a 1997 double inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for CSN, and The Buffalo Springfield.
Awhile ago, I posted a video of CSNY doing Ohio thirty years later. Stills wasn’t a pretty sight. I presume he’s gotten over Judy Collins by now.
Hard to do lullabies on a trumpet.
Teach your parents well,
Their children’s hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.
Don’t you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.
Awhile ago, I posted a video of CSNY doing Ohio thirty years later. Stills wasn’t a pretty sight. I presume he’s gotten over Judy Collins by now.
Teach your parents well,
Their children’s hell will slowly go by,
And feed them on your dreams
The one they picked, the one you’ll know by.
Don’t you ever ask them why, if they told you, you would cry,
So just look at them and sigh and know they love you.
I like their choice of lullabies Cooper …….and these early memories do stick…with you …. very precious :)
I remember my Dad singing so many songs to me for many many years…..and strangely enough I remember all of the words…
How fortunate for you to have such foresighted parents. Kudos to them.
I sang/talked to my children while in the womb and during their infancy. They, too, were introduced to the 60’s music and, yes, CSNY was a part of what they heard.
I truly think that’s why they’ve got a hippie soul and successful life.
Remind you of anyone?
According to something I heard on Wait, Wait Don’t Tell Me, this puts you at risk to become a serial killer. But, I knew that.
Definitely one of my favorites from Abbey Road, however I think I’m partial to Blackbird from The White Album.
My dad never sang to me, but he did however have a James Taylor album playing at all times, and to this day every time I hear a James Taylor song I think about my dad and get this feeling of warmth and security inside.
It’s kinda cool.
Cooper, I’ve been reading you for two years, and this explains it all.
If I hadn’t been reading you for two years this would explain it all.
Great Christmas Post.
We sang, and poorly too, I hope our efforts produce similar results. Not the crazy part.;)
Kids need very little, it’s amazing what I see our friends purchasing for their kids.
Happy Holiday .
Enjoy your family and friends.
Thanks for the post
I love love love this post
My father’s song, sung to all kids in the family was
“if I had the wings of an angel, over these prison walls I would fly, would fly….”
It was a song about an armed robber Wasn’t until I was way into my 20′ s and people were talking about songs their fathers sung to them “you are my angel..” etc that I realized there was something a bit off about singing a song about an armed robber, and that might partially account for how I turned out
When we grew up and there was a new generation people would beg my father to sing it. He refused. I asked him why when we were alone
“Robbery is too tame now.” He liked the songs my boyfriend Zachary wrote about murderers
Thank you Olivia. I have been really missing my father this week–never really have before–always accepted his death too readily–and this post was perfect
Brought tears to my eye until I saw the Stills video and now my picture of your family broadens.
Well done.
I think my mother sang “Amazing Grace” to us. She thought she was Judy Collins.
Merry Christmas.
OC: Judy Collins,,,,,,just can’t see it.
Laketrees: I must have liked them as well, because from what I heard it only took one round to put me to sleep.
Morgan: They are lovely people for sure.
Doug: Aren’t we all at risk in some way? I hear this on “Docta Phil My Head with crap”.
Jake: You know, that feeling is kind of nice isn’t it?
Jacob: Same to you, and keep singing.
Pia:”It was a song about an armed robber”
That is precious and also very pia.
casey: What is it with people of that generation and Judy Collins anyway?
Merry Christmas to you as well.
But dear Cooper, whoever did you think “(Suite:) Judy Blue Eyes” was?
Mele Kalikimaka. Oh … and tell me again why you’re not a writer?
There are quite a number of childhood songs which originate from not-so-wonderful things of the past.
Ring around the rosies
pockets full of posies
ashes, ashes
we all fall down.
“mewling”
I like the sound of that.
meow.
Merry Christmas and happy holidays to you and all your readers.
I think my mother sang Copacabana to me one too many times. Can’t be all bad, it fueled the genius within.
If you sing better than the singer, you are the singer. If you dance better than the dancer, you are the dancer. If you write better than the writer,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,
That “lullaby” is not a song heard very often, probably why you’re not the type someone comes across very often. And that’s a bad thing.
Meaning you’re a good thing.
In case there was any confusion. There often is at this time of the morning.
That’s it, can’t even write a blog post now. I’m burnt out.
And in the end,
the love you take,
is equal to the love,
you make.
Abbey Road is a musical masterpiece.
Have an absolutely beautiful and restful years end.
Beautiful. It isn’t the words that matter, it’s the love they put into them. My mother used to sing to me about a Father who sacrificed his Son for no better reason than to provide a Simon-says-like test for determining whether people should be eternally damned. But it’s her voice and her love that entered my heart instead.
It’s for love I go to midnight mass, though I don’t believe.
But the answer is never clear.
See you after the new year.
Peace out and
Carry on
Love is coming
Love is coming to us all
Lovely reminiscence, well punctuated by the songs. I like to think that “My Darlin’ Clementine” has not been a formative influence in my kids’ lives. . . .
Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
Merry Christmas. Olivia
Think this post represents a new style for you
Beautiful post my dearest and much missed Cooperina… I wonder too, now that you have raised the point… Lil’ BoheMia loved Madonna, David Gray (especially the part “Let go of your heart, let go of your head and feel it now” in Babylon) and Sting… huh.
:)
Merry Christmas amiga mia. May you be enjoying a beautiful holiday season wherever you may be…
I think it was up to me to discover what music really spoke to me. I can’t remember a single lullaby or a single song my parents liked that they shared with me.
In one respect it was good because I discovered how individualistic music is for each person, but on the other hand it’s just another indication of how wide the gulf was between us right from the start.
OC: humm. I think I have heard that. She was pretty popular with those musicians back in he day. ;)
I hope you had a Merry Christmas as well.
sk: I hope you holiday was grand.
You know there is some debate as to the origins of that rhythm as it was never written down until the Mother Goose took over the world . At least from what I can find.
G: Since when have you gotten up in the morning?
Davej: You as well.
Sterling: It’s certainly about the love.
John: Happy New Year
weirsdo: The same to you.
My Darling Clementine I’ve not heard.
Back to google I go.
Pia: Thank you, - the day was fine I stayed offline -. ;)
Mizzy B: Happy Holidays to you, kiss the kiddies for me mizzy.
mojo: It’s funny how people are all brought up so differently.
Such a cool post coo.
Well I like lullabyes. But alas, I won’t be singing to anyone. :)
Music soothes the savage blogger.