At least 250 Words a Day
There, that takes care of today.
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Every now and then I'll hear something that sounds out of place. Not out of place in terms of propriety, but out of place in terms of time. A word of phrase that wouldn't have stirred the least bit of curiosity or garnered the smallest bit of my attention fifty or sixty years ago. In 2019, though, the words are fascinating relics of the past.
At dinner, one evening a month or two ago, Dee Dee, our server, was singing softly as she cleared some dirty dishes from the table. I thought I recognized the song. "Nah, she's too young," I told myself, "She's never even heard that song." But, I had to know for sure, and when she brought us dessert, I asked if she had been singing "Que Sera, Sera." "Yes," she said. "I really like that song."
I can't say, "I really like that song." But it was unavoidable in the mid-50s and early 60s. In addition to the DJs sending it our way at every opportunity, Dad picked up the sheet music on his way home one night so Mom could play it on our organ. As a result, the moment Dee Dee said she had been singing "Que Sera, Sera", the song became my constant companion for the next three days.
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
Will I be pretty
Will I be rich
Here's what she said to me
Que será, será
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours to see
Que será, será
What will be, will be
The lyrics moved into my brain. Over and over, repeating and repeating, ad infinitum, they pushed everything else out of my brain - not that there is ever much in my brain. Alone in my apartment, I sang "Que Sera, Sera" over and over again. The neighbors never complained, but they're all hard of hearing and probably couldn't hear me.
It wasn't long afterward that Doris Day died. Did my singing do her in? Quite possibly.
A week or two after getting back to 2019, my mind found itself wondering what decade it was again. After a morning ride through the parking lots, I was about to go inside but stopped to allow two women to come out. A middle-aged lady came out first. The moment she passed from the air-conditioned lobby into the Georgia sunshine, she said, "Mom, it's awfully hot out here."
Mom took two steps into the outdoors before issuing an emphatic "Aye yigh yigh!"
"Aye yigh yigh," where did that come from? From several decades past, that's where. At least, it's been more than a few years since I'd heard anyone say those words. Strange.
