Melodies and Words by Heart

I am a huge fan of memorization. In Mrs. Greenland’s fifth grade class, we memorized poetry and the Gettysburg address. I loved it and discovered I was good at something, better even than the smarter kids in class.

The words and phrases learned then have stuck with me, not with the clarity and sureness I had at 10, but close enough so that when I’m in a tight spot I can repeat “Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation,” and so on until I hit the trickier spots and go around in circles.

My elementary school was named after Eugene Field, the poet. I wondered if that was why we got to memorize poetry. I knew that other schools were named after famous politicians or war heroes. What would they memorize, if anything?

Later, at UCLA in my third year of French classes, I got to memorize French poetry, songs, and plays. Speaking the phrases written by men (no women, c’est dommage) helped me speak with the rhythm and almost the speed of a real French person. I couldn’t express how I felt about a lot of things, but I could quote Paul Verlaine, “Le ciel est, par dessus le toit, ci bleu, ci calme.” Rolling the words in my mouth and savoring their rhythm was delicious.

On our 1961 trip, Mary and I hitchhiked from Austria into Italy squished into the back seat of a sports car. The guys left us off at a bus station in a small city. It was night. We needed to find a hotel. Into our lives sauntered a young man, maybe 17, whose English came from memorizing rock songs! My Italian came from memorizing opera arias. Mary had studied Italian, so what a trio we were! We laughed our way through a snack at a late-night café, and then he helped us find a place to stay.

It’s nice to have the words of others in one’s head. I remember reading a book by a Holocaust survivor, a musician, who had memorized enough classical music to keep him sane during the ghastly horrors he faced.

Mrs. Greenland had the right idea. Did she know that the words we learn by heart stay in our hearts for a lifetime? That they comfort us through tough times? They are our best friends when no friends are around.

Today’s students may live in a world that’s too fast for memorization. Their incessant songs whizz by on their ipods, leaving little time for words except via texting in short sentences.

I don’t want to be seen as the old fogey whose voice crackles, “Things were better in my day.” Maybe they weren’t. What I know is that for me, having these melodies and words in my heart is good.

Edith Piaf, Janis Joplin, and Sally

On my solitary desert walks, musing about the trip to come, I often find myself silently singing Edith Piaf (French) songs. Mary doesn’t remember that during one of the times we roomed together I bought a Piaf record and played it over and over, twenty times? Thirty? Enough so that the voice was imprinted on my memory along with the words, even the ones I couldn’t translate.

Years after that – twenty? thirty? – Thrim bought me an Edith Piaf cd and I played it over and over, thrilled to hear her again. It is now downloaded into iTunes and onto my MP3.

My favorite Piaf lyrics are all about love. “Dans l’amour il fait des larmes.” “Love requires tears,” and she has cried enough tears to deserve to love again. In her voice you can hear all the pain she has been through to reach that point. “Non, rien de rien. Non, je ne regretted rien. C’est payee.” “No, not a thing. No, I don’t regret anything. It is paid . . .” and now she can go on to a new love.

Sorry, I know she’s in my head, but not in yours. How about Janis? Can you hear Janis Joplin? Stand up, all Janis fans, and remember “Take it! Take another little piece of my heart, now, baby, Take it!” or Down on Me. “Looks like everybody in this whole wide world, is down on me!”

In that raspy voice is all the pain, the agony, the exuberance, the in-your-face I-have-LIVED energy that Janis threw out to her audience until there was nothing left to give.

Janis and Edith thrill me. Opera singers – Leontyne Price, Marilyn Horne, Jessye Norman, Renee Fleming, etc. – thrill me because they are also using their entire bodies and souls to convey to me, the audience, the feeling of their songs [arias, in opera speak].

Much as I love them, I can’t take the opera ladies on my walks. Their music and sound is way too difficult for my brain to memorize the way I can memorize the music of Janis and Edith.

Last week I stayed overnight with my sister Sally, a highly successful musician/writer. I needed to be reminded what it’s like to be in civilization. A whole blog could be written about Sally – maybe later – but for now it’s enough to say that as we drove down Ventura Blvd in her Jaguar on our way to meet Mimi and Colin at the Thai restaurant, Sally’s cd of stories played and I was crying with glee at her irreverent wit, the skill with which she turns phrases, and her voice that conveys a slew of types of people from southern belles to convicts to you name it.

Without divorce in the world, I wouldn’t have Sally. Without divorce, she wouldn’t have had all the men problems that inspire her writing, both in stories and songs. Janis, Edith, Sally. Women make glorious art out of pain.

Still, for me, Thrim and I are heading into our 40^th year. He is one in a thousand, fine with me running off for five weeks with Mary, a widow, because he understands that this 50-year anniversary is important to me.

Do I feel guilty about it? Yeah, sure. But I’ve got Edith Piaf singing in my head, Janis Joplin wailing to go ahead and take it, and Sally telling me she admires my courage! Imagine that! I feel more selfish than courageous, but I’ll take it. Yes, I will!

Tuning Up for Pastries

A girl who works in my dentist’s office was afraid to go to restaurants that had an A in the window because she thought the A meant that terrorists ate there. A for Al Quaida? (In case it’s different where you live, the Health Department issues an A to restaurants that pass their inspections.) The same girl’s boyfriend wanted to see a sunrise over the ocean, so she took him early one morning to Newport (California, not Rhode Island).

This was my first time at this dentist. I wondered about his competence, employing someone as clueless as this girl. Should I leave and face French pastries with a sensitive tooth and a missing filling?

At our age, Mary and I need to be tuned up before we go. My chiropractor is re-sitting my head onto my neck and putting my spine back where it should be. The dermatologist is checking out a spot on my nose that may or may not – you know. Mary is seeing the podiatrist for a corn on her right foot.

We want to be able to walk and eat and ogle easily.

In 1961 we didn’t worry about our health. Who would, at 22? But we had two accidents in France with our Lambretta motorscooter that led to discovering the benefits of universal healthcare. Mary was driving; I was on the back. It was raining both times and the scooter skidded, tipping over and cutting Mary’s leg as she leaped out of the way. Each time, concerned onlookers helped us to the nearest first aid station (or clinic or whatever) where she got inspected and bandaged at no charge. WHO (World Health Organization) ranks France #1 for healthcare.

When my youngest daughter’s babysitter went to Rome for a Catholic holiday, she slipped outside the Vatican and broke her hip. She was well taken care of. WHO ranks Italy at #2.

I think about those generous countries where a poor person is treated with as much respect as a rich person; where all contribute part of their wages to healthcare so everyone can benefit. Not so, here, where tens of thousands quit AARP because it lobbied for a wider healthcare plan for all.

Leaving the dentist’s office, pleased at how brave I had been, and happy that he did a good job, I was less happy to leave behind $222. (That still beats the $20,000 I had to pay when, at 64-3/4 years and uninsured, I had two stents put into a coronary artery.)

Bring on the pastries!

But what about the A in the window that kept the girl from going into the restaurant? Look for them, search them out, and enjoy Approved delights.