Even though the weather has turned cold, I am thinking tonight of summer camping trips to Lake Erie, and more specifically of my adopted grandfather singing old Scout songs with as much gusto as he could manage on the 15th repetition, all in the name of making the travel time go a bit faster for the eight-year-old kid (me) in the back seat.
Oh, the cannibal king, with the big nose ring, fell in love with a lusty ma-a-aid. And every night, by the pale moonlight, across the bay he’d wa-a-ade…
Admittedly, some of the lyrics would not make for nursery-friendly group sing-alongs these days, but I loved the tune so much that I made a habit of crying out for encores, requests that my adult self can hardly believe were always honored. Now that’s love.
It’s often noted how a familiar smell can transport you across decades in a flash, but it’s amazing to me how deeply the roots of a sonic memory can grow and how powerfully they can do something similar. I find this especially true when it comes to the sounds of once familiar routines. Those same camping trips were also colored by the comforting habits of pre-dawn mornings in a small pop-up camper. The open and shut of the flimsy aluminum door, a heavy footfall on the detachable red felt step, the pop of a cupboard door when a jar of instant coffee was retrieved. It was the excited boil of an electric kettle that carried real meaning, however, and the clink of a spoon against a mug that signaled morning had come and another day’s adventures were about to begin.
True, it sparks memories. And more, it is the best stimulation for the brain and nervous system that you can get, And it’s free. Remember to sing every chance you get, and let’s get it back into schools, camps, cars, in fact everywhere.
It’s even more powerful than meditation.