The other day I opened my accordion case for the first time in far too long. Under it were a couple song books published by the War Department at the beginning of World War II.
The USO, chaplains and division morale officers distributed these and other books at home and abroad. The titles included patriotic and camp-fire music for sing-alongs.
Music and singing have always been important to our men and women in uniform, dating back to at least the time of General Washington. They were good for morale because they refocused the mind. Plus singing while marching seems to make the miles less boring.
Even our shortest war, the 1898 Spanish-American, rated at least one song “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.”
World War I had some real dandies: “Sister Suzie Sewing Shirts for Soldiers, “We’re Going to Hang Kaiser Bill on the Highest Linden Tree,” “So Long Broadway, Hello France” and many more. My father’s favorite was a bad pun, “We Don’t Want the Bacon, All We Want is a Piece of the Rhine.”
World War II “Hits of the Blitz” included, “I’ll Be Seeing You in All the Old Familiar Places, “White Cliffs of Dover,” “Run Rabbit Run, and “I’m Going to Hang out the Laundry on the Siegfried Line; in Da Führer’s Face.”
We had protest songs, sad songs, funny songs because The Olds understood that singing was good for the morale. Harriet Tubman, the famous conductor on the Underground Railroad, wrote that her work was hard, often dangerous and always daunting. Yet never, she stated, did she and her companions ever quit singing. She was criticized for it, but explained that singing was needed for the survival of the spirit.
I also excavated a songbook from summer church camp. If you ever went to almost any summer camp, church or secular, you probably recall musty cabins, bad food and homesickness. Summer camp was straight out of Allen Sherman’s 1963 hit “Hello Muddah, Hello Fadduh, Here I Am, at Camp Granada.” Listen to it on YouTube sometime.
If you now one of The Olds, force your tax exemptions to listen to it the next time they fuss about their rough life when there is no Wi-Fi service.
In the dining hall after a meal or around a campfire, whether we liked it or not, we joined together for the daily singalong. Before long our mood began to improve. They helped build a sense of community that led to those cliché-ish group pictures on the front steps of our cabin and promises we’ll all get together right here in 10 years.
Those reunions probably never happened, but when we hear the words and tunes now they take us back to a time when the world seemed safer and morer fun too, because we weren’t spending time with our devices.
I’m not suggesting a sing-along will cure all of the divisions and animosities in our country, but it might help at least a little. Right now, the way things are going, we need something fun and positive.
An example can be found in the rural fishing communities of Newfoundland, Canada. Life there is hard. There is not much else to do, so once a week or so a family hosts a kitchen party where everyone is welcome to enjoy the bread and bologna sandwiches. Guests bring a dish to pass, with cod tongue on dulce (boiled seaweed) being favorites, especially when washed down by a bump or two from a Mason jar of Newfie Screech which is 100-pure alcohol.
A couple of rounds of the jar and everyone is ready to start the music. The instruments are tuned (more or less) and someone leads off with old favorites like “Heave Away!”or “I’se the B’y that Builds the Boat and I’se the B’y that Sails Her.” After that comes more songs, food and Screech.
When hosts are ready to send guests home, they’ll nod to the oldest person there. They slowly go around the room, one person to the next, singing an improvised message of appreciation for them. That takes on deeper meaning when you remember these are mainly fishing ports, and commercial fishing is one of the most dangerous of all professions. A guest one night might go out the next day and never return.
Remember the 9/11 terrorist attacks, when suddenly passenger planes were diverted to Gander, Newfoundland? In quick order the locals pulled out all the stops to make guests feel welcome. Housing was found for them, and when the hotels were filled natives welcomed guests into their homes. Food instantly appeared in churches and the Royal Canadian Legion halls.
What many guests remember best was the warmth of the kitchen party. It was the combination of trying new food and Screech, being made Honorary Newfoundlanders when they kissed the lips of a cod and the singing. Little wonder some of the unexpected visitors still stay in close touch with new-found friends living on the Rock.
We have lost something important in our lives. The fault is on our reliance on all our devices to connect with people at the expense of the person next to you or across the table. It has squeezed out the old tradition of people informally getting together to experience the pure joy of singing.
We can change that. About all it takes is for someone with some knowledge of music and songbooks. Then just invite them over to your place for a sing-along and light refreshments. We’ll make at least our little corner of the world a better and happier place.
