First grandchildren can take a while to arrive, and the trick is to pass the time without counting each minute. My daughter unknowingly helped me with this by reminding me of the songs she remembered me singing to her when she was tiny. That set me off.
All week I’ve been singing or whistling tunes I haven’t sung for years. I don’t know how many infants these days are treated to “Come Josephine With Your Flying Machine” but my grandmother sang the first three lines of this song to me, over and over, and I know I will pass it on to this sweet new child who lives in a world of rather sophisticated flying machines, to say the least. Although I don’t know who first sang this song to my grandmother, the mystery and music will be shared with my grandchild. She’ll ask, I know she will. Curiosity gallops through her veins.
I may not do them justice but I will try my best to sing the sweeter songs of Billy Joel, as I did with my daughters. And Joe Raposo’s songs are high on the list, as are the Beatles. I can sit on the porch and remember such sweet music surrounding the baby in my arms and me, and I marvel at the chance to be surrounded again.