Birthday Week Ripple
I went to bed Sunday before last with a couple of notes caught in my head, a melodic earworm. I know the sound and the rhythm, not the words. Started humming it. Over and over. I knew the artist – the Grateful Dead – but not the song. But it’s happy-sounding music, so I smiled as I hummed along. And that’s how I began my birthday week. Waking up Monday with that same tune.
It was a good birthday week. Monday morning I met The Jose Vilson for coffee. It had been too long. And we will have to talk more – politics AND pedagogy (and life). I walked out of the coffee shop smiling. And humming. Same tune.
I looked it up. Ripple. Very catchy. Mostly listened to music and let the words run by without grasping them. I’m having trouble writing even right now, the song’s on loop, and it’s hard not to bop along.
Tuesday was a nice day – met student teachers – nice group. I shared this puzzle with them. I used to be terrified of middle school – and now I work more with middle school than high school. What a long, strange… (ha ha)
Wednesday was the day. Fifty-twelve. Another cycle around the sun. Since Bella was going away, we had birthday Dosas in Jackson Heights. Kate and Shelby rounded out the company. I had rasam, and there were appetizers that I mostly skipped, but I had some rav masala dosa and some pondicherry dosa. Drove everyone back to Astoria, Then stuffed, happy, and humming returned to the Bronx. I think I spoke with someone from my old school.
Thursday was quiet. And I finally dug into my lyrics. I like this verse:
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
So maybe it’s a road, not a cycle? I like the travel symbolism, and decided it fit with my birthday. Lifetime as a journey.
Audio is cleaner here, words are clearer (since now I was listening, and thinking):
Friday was my first official “celebration” day. Who showed up at the bar? Drifting in and out? Alumni who are teachers. Alumni who are not teachers. An alum’s mom. Retirees from my school. Retirees who I hang out with. A relative. A UFT full-timer. Folks from MORE. Some Unity folks (at the far end of the bar, but said hi, and hung out later). A couple of folks from New Action. Community activists. A few current teachers from my old school.
That’s the idea – lowkey – from various places. It’s still mostly teachers and students – that’s where I’ve spent a lot of time. But hanging out. Relaxed. Chatting. Catching up. That was a nice celebration.
The rest of the song – by Saturday it was fading from mind, a bit – but the lyrics are also interesting:
Ripple
If my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
And my tunes were played on the harp unstrung
Would you hear my voice come through the music?
Would you hold it near as it were your own?
It’s a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they’re better left unsung
I don’t know, don’t really care
Let there be songs to fill the air
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
Reach out your hand, if your cup be empty
If your cup is full, may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men
There is a road, no simple highway
Between the dawn and the dark of night
And if you go, no one may follow
That path is for your steps alone
Ripple in still water
When there is no pebble tossed
Nor wind to blow
You who choose to lead must follow
But if you fall you fall alone
If you should stand then who’s to guide you?
If I knew the way I would take you home
It’s not just a journey. And it’s not all upbeat, even if the melody and rhythm are. There’s religious images, but from a variety of religions. That “ripple in still water” business is decidedly philosophical.
Here’s a verse without instruments – changes the effect:
And I still like the melody and the rhythm, and tap my feet and bounce to the music. This is the soundtrack to my fifty twelfth birthday week. Celebratory, no matter what words they sing. Celebrating all these years, and this journey so far. A walk – but where’m’I headed?
Well, Sunday, that was not a question. Birthday walk. Started on Broadway. It was cold. And the paths through Van Cortlandt Park had a thick blanket of snow, with crust and ice. It was work moving forward. But we did. Five souls. We knew where we were heading – the weir, and back to the Tortoise and Hare. A loop. A cycle. And after I had the most delicious birthday pho with Carol.
Until next year. I wonder what song will join me then.
JD2718 