False Nostalgia Fridays!!!I have work deadlines up the yin yang--that's not what's kept me from posting. In fact, I have several unfinished posts. I can't believe I am procrastinating doing the very thing that began as a practice of procrastination in the first place. It's very meta. On a rainy, bleary day such as this one, here's something that cheered me up: "You Are My Sunshine" is a childhood favorite of mine (and prolly just about everyone else). My dad used to sing it to me on rainy mornings. My dad also once performed with Bob Dylan. Did so! At Gerde's Folk City. It was, of course, several years before Dylan became superfamous, but y'know, my dad was a shift manager of a loungewear plant in Brooklyn, so this is one of the three things in his life he can brag about. (Well, not so much can as should.) Apparently Dylan was supposed to play that night and his back up musicians never showed up. So my dad volunteered to accompany him, I guess. My dad hates Bob Dylan, actually. His voice. He hates his voice. "Why do you have so many goddamned Dylan albums then?" I asked him once. "Eh, I like the lyrics," he replied. Fair enough. Posted by Dana at 11:01 AM
|
Tour SpielThere was a sweet old english teacher at a middle school in the rural mountains of japan who loved that song. Teachers are supposed to retire at sixty, but I think they let him stay around because he was also the gardener, and the vice principal. He couldn't speak any english as far as I could tell, but at the end of each daily, painful slog through the Sunshine Reader, he'd have the kids flip to the back of the book and work their way through the song phonetically. His face lit up like he was one of the forty sailor-suited 10 year olds.
I swear, everytime he sang, Pureezu donto tay-ku mai sunshine awaaay, it brought a little tear to my eye.