This seems a time for me to learn and practice new ways of being, or to bring to life old forgotten ways. When I was a child growing up in Brooklyn, we didn’t have access to musical instruments or to lessons, we didn’t own a record player. We had the radio, and my mother who liked to sing. Music was a constant background in the apartment, mostly WVNJ which favored songs from beloved Broadway shows of the 40s, 50s, 60s, also popular music of those eras and of the Depression as well.
Lillian had a lovely voice, and though fate had made her of neceessity one of the original multitaskers, balancing work, shopping, cooking, cleaning, laundry and caring for 3 children and a troubled husband, she dusted and sang, cooked and sang, ironed and sang, hung our wet clothes out on the line and sang. When she washed dishes after supper, I dried and put them away - that was our special time together, and we sang. When I helped her shop and pull the heavy cart coming home, we sang together as we walked. Sometimes we’d dance the polka togther in our tiny apartment, a la Anna and the King of Siam; if a favorite Cole Porter song came on the radio, my father would occasionally take the dustcloth from her hand and dance with her there in the living room.
Please be clear that this was not an idyllic happy home - nothing like that. It was a sometims violent often terrifying home. But my mother’s singing and her radiant courageous spirit anchored us and offered hope of better days ahead. (Spoiler alert for Unorthodox - think of the extraordinary Shira Haas as Esty.)
Somehow, mysteriously, over the years, I lost the practice of my mother’s singing, perhaps because I had no need to escape the home I built as an adult, perhaps because my saving grace has been writing, and for that I need focus, silence. In any case, this past week I’ve been starting the day by playing a favorite Judy Collins CD and singing along to the well-loved lyrics. I do stretchs to the slower songs, I dance it out to the strongly tempoed ones. Of course walks in nature bring calm and pleasure, but I also need to get my heart pumping.
I recommend dancing and music to all as we shelter in place, but especially to those with kids at home, and particularly to parents tending pre-schoolers, suddenly bereft of babysitters, daycare, grandparents, nannies - these parents are truly in the category of first responders, with, as ever, no credit. I am wracking my brain for how to help you - I hope this is of some small assistance. If others out there can offer more to parents of young ones, please do so below in the comments.
No writing prompts today - your “homework” is to embody what you are feeling.