Thursday, February 21, 2019


   It's funny how a fragment of memory launches itself and then sends you down a lane of thought, maybe even a rabbit hole.
   I can't tell you why, but one of my great aunts singing Blue Birds Over The White Cliffs of Dover sprang full bloom into the day. My great aunts, Martha, Anna, and Sarah were, like my grandmother Mary, born in England and arrived in the US as young girls and teens. 
    The song was made popular by an English singer, Vera Lynn and it was one of the most popular tunes of WWII.
    I'm a post war boomer, but I remember hearing them sing that tune as I was toddler in their care when my parents were out or on a trip. It was soothing to them, an assurance that regardless of the present problem or crisis, it would all work out. And apparently it did the same for this former little tyke.
I think they sometimes sang it to me when I was having tyke travails. 

   Maybe it's the winter clouds decorating our Santa Lucia mountain range, or the full moon rise during the light of evening.
        Maybe it's my hopes and prayers for a friends who are struggling against serious health challenges. Perhaps my optimism fueled by my trust in our democratic republic's sense of justice and the power of tenacious investigation and judicious outcomes. Perhaps it was reading of the winter storms and seeing snow blanket Arizona like something from North Dakota in photos from my friend Bruce. (His blog link appears in the column to the right.)
    But there it is, Blue Birds Over The White Cliffs of Dover, in my head, evoking memories of assurance, certainly as it must have done for millions as a world war against great evil ensued.
     Funny, how time's jewels come back, often just in time.

       By the way, I think the drag net is tightening around the great fraud and stooge. His poison will come to an end, "just you wait and see"
       "...I remember well as the shadows fell
           the light of hope in their eyes..."
        "...there'll be love and laughter
          And peace ever after
          Tomorrow when the world is free..."
    Be as young of heart as you can.

    See you down the trail.


  1. My mother was lover of music. Couldn't carry a note in a bucket. Her WWII favorite was the original version of Where or When. The old man? Anything by Glenn Miller. Good memories.

  2. Interesting. I've long said that if I do have a funeral or memorial service or, better yet, a big happy drunken party . . . I would like Vera Lynn's recording of "We'll Meet Again" played. It's one of my favorites. And then there's Eric Idle's "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life". Like I said, a big happy drunken party.

  3. Good music is timeless.

  4. I've liked the song for years, and when for the first time on the ferry from Calais I saw the cliffs, I heard it in my head. If it were not for driving on the wrong side and the carvery food, I'd live in England in a heartbeat.