Life Between Chapters

I recently realized that I didn't have many pictures that included me--mostly because I am the one taking the picture. So here are a few with just me or me and some friends (or relatives) just for fun, along with one of my favorite songs to sing--House of the Rising Sun. Enjoy!

Some years ago I wrote a song titled When I Wanted Warm. My thought was that the earth could be like a person, sometimes warm, sometimes cold, but of course I meant that metaphorically. Clearly, I wanted that someone to be warm and loving, rather than cold. On this Earth Day, we need to recognize that the Earth is being harmed by our coldness, our increasing abuse of the balanced climate she provides. We, in fact, are the ones who are being cold and uncaring. We need to show the Earth the warmth of our love rather than the coldness of our neglect and abuse of her bounty. We need to protect our planet and stop global warming.

Some years ago I wrote a song called simply "Daughter." In the current context, I view the song as asking people my daughter's age and younger if they will, in effect, accept the burden of rescuing the planet and our nation from the scourge of conspiracy theories and those who promote and encourage them. I hope they will be able to turn benighted believers away from such magical thinking and return our world to a sane and caring forward path.

When my oldest brother, Dick, died three years ago, I knew he held a strong faith that he would be going to a better world. I am reminded of the folksong Wayfaring Stranger, a song of comfort in these difficult times..

An Easter hymn from long ago.

Years ago, one of my brothers offered some practical advice that has become for me a comforting metaphor and prompted me to write this song, “How to Fall.”

This is a song I wrote back in the 1960s. It incorporates a lot of story motifs that I recalled from my favorite fairytale collection, East o' the Sun and West o' the Moon. George Webbe Dasent's 1859 English translation of this Norwegian collection is most famous, but my childhood favorite was one my grandmother had on her bookshelf. The images here are from that book.

When I was a child, my grandmother lived next door to us, and I remember bringing her a small basket of flowers (usually wild violets and dandelions) on the first day of May. While we are all sheltering in place, it might be best to save visiting and bringing flowers for a later time. Meanwhile, here are some virtual flowers and a song.

I miss my mother every day. She was a truly marvelous person. I wrote this song--"The First One"--shortly after she died eighteen years ago. Loretta Dolby was bright, creative, caring, gracious, loving, musical, patient, hard-working, always fair, insightful, nearly always smiling, and above all warmly and intensely engaged with everyone around her. At age sixteen, she lost her own mother and took over the role of mother to her toddler age sister, helped her father and brothers on the farm, and set aside her own plans for college for a while until she could work, borrow, and scrimp her way through Manchester College. She became a teacher and taught fourth graders for many years. She married and had five children. I was the fourth. My life has been immensely blessed by having her as my mother and guiding light.

There are many things I dislike about Trump. He continues to act like a reality show host rather than a President, and that shallow showmanship includes his being a blowhard through his daily Twitter posts. Twitter has finally at least started warning people that his tweets are faulty and should be fact checked. I think he has done more than mislead us. He has betrayed us, our nation, and the world. In the biblical phrase, he has sown discord and an ill wind, and we are left in sorrow to reap little beyond a damaging whirlwind.

This video includes a song I wrote based on the opening line of Psalm 130. I believe we can expect to find peace only if and when we ensure justice for all our people. On June 15, 2020, the National Memorial for Peace and Justice in Montgomery, Alabama, will reopen after shutting down due to the Covid-19 virus. In light of the killing of George Floyd and the many protests that have followed, this might be a time to visit this site and ponder its somber message.

What does a 20-year old think about when she is socially isolated? Here is a song I wrote when I was around 20 years old, still in college, unmarried, wondering what life held in store. I thought of the song again as I pondered the many effects our current social and physical distancing has had on people. I would guess it is especially hard on young people who would normally be out there socializing, dating, making new friends, and thinking about love in its many guises—but especially the non-platonic sort. I find my view of possible love in this song amusing now, but who knows whether young people chafing under Covid-19 restrictions are feeling the way I did back then.

Though Juneteenth (June 19th) is a day of celebration, it is also a reminder of how much suffering has been and continues to be caused by racism in America and throughout the world. As a white person trying to comprehend the pain of racism, I have always found the African American spiritual Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child a moving metaphor that conveys some of the emotional pain that racism inflicts.

My father, Charles E. Dolby, was born and grew up in Huntington County. His parents were Frank and Gertrude (Beghtel) Dolby. For most of his adult life he lived on Vine Street. He was trained as a barber and practiced barbering for a while but then joined the City Fire Department as well as working off days at Home Lumber Company. He expanded our house to accommodate the family of seven and also built a lake cottage up in Noble County, Indiana. He loved fishing and kept bee moths in the refrigerator (Ick). He encouraged my singing and guitar playing as a teenager, and I think he was really proud to be driving me down to Bloomington to start my college education. He died in 1999, just before the start of the new millennium. I often wonder what he would make of things to day. He was a natural engineer and could fix almost anything. I miss him.

Amidst all the sheltering in place, social distancing, avoiding crowds, etc., I have treated myself to a few “by myself” Happy Hours. These events have not been as depressing as they may sound. Actually they gave me an excuse to think back about people I have shared a drink and a romantic relationship with over the years—in particular some of the wonderful men I have loved and who have loved me in return. All have moved on. Sadly, some have died. Some years ago I wrote a song about this melancholy experience of letting a relationship melt away from the intensity of a powerful, burning love to that instead of a treasured, remembered love. Mementos keep them in my life, and now, in my more mature years, I do indeed hold their love in my heart like gold.

July 4, 2020~a troubled time for celebrating our nation’s beginnings. Everyone claims to revere the ideals of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all, and yet we have seen evidence of inequality in so many instances. And we have seen broken promises, powerful people reversing hard-won laws and regulations, directives that have in the past moved us closer to the kind of shared union we have proclaimed we have always wanted America to be. People in positions of power who turn their backs on the people who have helped make this an admired and potent nation remind me of the skipper in The Golden Vanity, a folksong from the days of sailing ships. The foe is no longer some mythical “Turkish enemy” but rather our own leaders who fail to protect, serve, and cherish the people of this democracy. Vote them out.

As a folklorist, I have been dismayed at how our current administration here in the US has passed along misleading information, falsehoods, and vain beliefs about the pandemic now rampant in our world. The failure to lead, the ready acceptance of myths and wild speculations, the casual relating of false information—all of these are attempts to placate with tall tales rather than help our citizens find a way to cope with this devastating virus. Professor Geoffrey Joyce wrote an article for The Conversation July 8, 2020, titled “5 COVID-19 Myths Politicians have repeated that just aren’t true.” I adapt his “ 5 myths” here and call out the current administration for offering our people tall tales instead of the truth.

America's rush to put everyone back to work is dangerous and cruel. Much more thought needs to be given to how we can best go forward and how we can put needed funding into making everyone's present and future safe. I took the liberty of reinterpreting what the House of the Rising Sun might be. The folksong isn't clear on that, but there is a book that examines the topic in depth, Chasing the Rising Sun, by Ted Anthony.

Misery is inevitable when people are forced to leave loved ones, for whatever reason. We fail as a nation when we force such separations rather than finding ways to help people stay together and safe. Irving Berlin's song from a century ago speaks to this current kind of separation misery.

Books, articles, podcasts, and blogs offer an abundance of advice for coping with our COVID-related issues. The booming field of self-help writing is something I spent some time researching several years ago, reading more books on the topic than I ever want to again. Still, I remain intrigued by our tendency to seek out such advice over and over again, always hoping to lead a better life after learning what others advise. Folksongs often gave us the answer long ago. Here is one answer—aided a bit by William Butler Yeats: Take Life Easy (aka Down By the Salley Gardens).

Valentine’s Day always makes me think of the various stories, movies, and songs I associate with love relationships—and also simply ones that make me feel glad to be here. May you have a Happy Valentine’s Day and remember fondly your own list of things that you enjoy.

I know there are plenty of political ads out there, but I have always preferred books. Many of the people I am most willing to put my faith in as leaders have offered some of their ideas in book form, giving us a source we can think about, argue with, and return to as we wish. I hope they have the opportunity to serve as the leaders we so clearly need right now. Some years ago I wrote a song celebrating some of the outstanding graduate students who chose to study folklore, a relatively small field of research and ethnography that grew in part from the early efforts of the Grimm Brothers. Folklorists attend to and value what ordinary people create and treasure. I would wish, for America, leaders who display that same respect for all people. I think these people can offer that.

I have always enjoyed songs that tell a story—ballads and folksongs, of course, but also operas, oratorios, ballets, and musicals. Child ballad #54 is the Cherry Tree Carol. It tells an unorthodox version of the Christmas story—from Joseph’s point of view. I sing it here by myself, without even my trusty guitar, but my favorite way of singing is with others, as a duo, or choir, or the Bloomington Chamber Singers. I share this old ballad and some photos as a tribute to some of the many people I have enjoyed singing with over the years. Thanks, everyone. Singing together is such a joy!

I was one of the lucky ones who had many people and situations that motivated me to enjoy the present and look forward to the future. Going to college, getting married, having a child, starting a career—those are the kinds of things that young people often find urging them on with hope toward the future. It’s a little harder now during this pandemic, but I think we can still hold out hope for what lies ahead.

The year 2020 has been a year of many losses. For me it began with the loss of my very dear niece Shelley and moved on to, most recently, the loss of a wonderful person who sang alto alongside of me in the Unitarian Universalist choir. And then there was the loss of our great civic leader and Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And now I read that in the US alone there are more than 200,000 souls gone in this pandemic. I invite you to join Ilze Akerbergs, Greg Philippsen, and me in singing this old African-American spiritual Michael Row the Boat Ashore in memory of all those we have lost.

Please join me in steering clear of the wind. I cannot understand why people would choose to have someone as a leader who constantly stirs everyone into a frenzy (the wind) rather than someone who, like a loving father or mother of the republic, tries to calm us all and discourage the hatred that produces fighting—someone who models kindness rather than disdain, mockery, and meanness.

One of my favorite hymns as I was growing up—“Fairest Lord Jesus.” The melody is known as “The Crusaders’ Hymn” and is quite old. I learned to whistle listening to my father who would sometimes whistle as he worked. There is an old bit of folklore that claims women shouldn’t whistle—i.e., “A whistling woman and a crowing hen always come to no good end.” But I don’t believe it.

Today would have been my niece Shelley’s 60th birthday. I remember when she was born. I was so excited for my sister, for all of us. It is so sad that we lost her much, much too soon. Missing you as always, dear Shelley. Love, Sandy

Handel composed the aria “Lascia la spina” for his 1707 oratorio Il trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno. The opening words of the aria are: “Lascia la spina, cogli la rosa,” translated as “Avoid the thorn, pluck the rose.” The allegorical character Pleasure sings the song, hoping to tempt the heroine Beauty into a life of pleasant diversion rather than virtuous truth-seeking.

Thanksgiving 2020 is going to be a much-reduced affair for most of us, but here is a little reminder of how it has been in years gone by.