Welcome back to the Pianolist, folks. This is one of those weeks where I take inspiration from the stack of piano rolls above our family’s player piano, or I see my life reflected in one of the titles. We’ve spent so many holidays playing each of the rolls that grandma and grandpa collected and they’ve become our life’s playlist, always available as emotional support or happy memory.
This week I want to talk about On A Clear Day (You Can See Forever), which, if you know it, you probably know the Barbara Streisand version. It’s been a personal favorite for long enough that when I was on the Staten Island Ferry with my oldest friend, I began to sing it and she knew every word, singing along with me as we passed the Statue of Liberty. Frankly, I was surprised more people didn’t join in.
I’m taking a pretty convoluted route in my ramblings today because the song made me think of glorious summer days and also about knowing who you are. And that took me, of course, to the Bellevue-Dayton Memorial Day parade, where my extended family has met in front of the firehouse to watch the madness for decades.
Somehow, all of these thoughts from the parade will eventually bring me back to that Clear Day and its lyrics. Humor me, will you?
Shakespeare said, “The readiness is all” and I thought I was ready for the parade. My children are out of the youngest ages, so I had only sunscreen, water, and a blanket. Then I saw my sister with her triplets and her wagon complete with attachable fans, diaper bags and sun hats, sunscreen and umbrellas. She won the prize for preparedness and even found us an extra bag for my little guy to store his parade candy in (they throw so much cheap candy it’s amazing - and a loaf of goetta for one lucky person per block). Not having a candy bag was a rookie mistake at best, but now that I don’t have a diaper bag, I feel I’m getting reckless.
I think of being showered with gifts for your baby and how the next few years are a gradual shedding of stuff, back to your original body. Giving away, sorting the piles. It’s amazing how good it feels to walk out of the house without a diaper bag.
And that’s where I am now, with three kids and a lot of stuff still, just not everything. My sister-in-law who has two grown kids has always had everything in her purse and still does. One time she had everything you’d need to make a Bloody Mary including the garnish, which is really just showing off.
Was she always that prepared? I suspect so. Becoming an organized person is like a Marvel movie origin story - from harrowing childhood chores to your first feeling of ownership and pride. Judging from where my kids are currently, it would have to be a supernatural occurrence to get them organized.
With origin stories in mind, I told my aunt this story:
I was at Millenium Park in Chicago to see Yo—Yo Ma performing and I had my whole family with me. At one point, my kids were with their dad and our friends on a blanket somewhere and I was standing in the shade with my backpack, all alone like the cool person I had always been. That was when a friendly, young couple tapped my shoulder and said, “Excuse me. You look like you might have a band-aid.”
Now it’s possible that they just said, “Do you have a band-aid?” But I don’t think so. I think they found themselves in a hoard of hundreds, surveyed the crowd, saw me and thought, “She looks like the kind of person who has a band-aid.”
Now what does that mean? To me, it means I’m the person your kid is supposed to look for if they’re lost. “Look for a mom,” I would tell my kids. If you can’t find a cop in an old-timey cop’s uniform with an Irish brogue, find a mom. And that’s me. And of course it is. This shouldn’t surprise me.
It’s just that once upon a time, I was the person looking for the band-aid. In my head, the moms then looked much older than I now look. I was once disorganized and unprepared. Now my normalcy is a trait that sets me apart.
So, yes, I did have a band-aid. I maybe smile-winced before pulling it out of my bag and handing it over. And then I had the most I’m-an-adult moment ever. I took a moment to be glad that kids these days still have the capability of talking to adults or just other people in this way. I mean, you don’t bum cigarettes anymore or ask for a light from strangers. But band-aids will remain. And that’s comforting.
I guess you’d call this a mindful moment. A moment of clarity. This is who I am now. I’m the person who wants to tell all the young girls I see that they look pretty and that they should cherish their young skin and embrace their unprepared, willy-nilly lives.
It’s all about acceptance. This comes with age. What greater clarity is there than to feel you know where you belong in the universe? Like finding that first wrinkle, gray hair, or varicose vein - Ah, yes, life will go on for me too.
On a Clear Day, rise and look around you, and you’ll see who you are.
And so we’ve arrived at the heavenly tune, On a Clear Day written by Burton Lane with lyrics by the great Alan Jay Lerner of Lerner and Lowe, My Fair Lady, etc.
(Click on the image below to choose your streaming platform to listen to the Peddlers sing On A Clear Day. I didn’t even remember my Harry playing this on Broadway??! and there are oodles of versions to choose from on Spotify btw.)
You’ll feel part of every mountain sea and shore.
And that’s the goal, isn’t it? The Transcendental goal of being part of Nature, Self and Eternity. And I got that from a band-aid, the admitting that I had a band-aid. No, I got that from the acceptance of who I am in relation to the world.
You can hear, from far and near, a world you never heard before.
Ok, song, I hear you. I must remain open to the possibilities of this world. Which is a good reminder as we dive deeper into summer break and vacations. I hope, dear reader, that you sing this as you look at the Grand Canyon, or the Atlantic Ocean or the Rocky Mountains or the hills of Tennessee. Wherever you go, memorize this song and sing it a little. Even if it’s in your own backyard.
That’s my hope for you. It’s a simple hope. This song has simple lyrics. It just repeats itself. Then, like an India summer, it modulates… you’ll feel part of every mountain sea and shore… I hope you feel it. for ever. and ever. and ever. and ever more.
This is not me playing the player piano, but since a video of the roll already existed, I thought, great! I don’t have to appear on camera!
P.S. - Today was the Pride Parade in Cincinnati and my sister and I managed it with just the bigger kids in tow, one wagon, one chair, a beach blanket, sun hats, two umbrellas, four bottles of water, and some hand sanitizer. No one asked for a Band-Aid, but I did see a few “free-mom-hugs” shirts. A hug or a band-aid, I imagine, are always welcome in this brave new world.
I love this one! We are at a Reds game right now and I was able to forget where I was while reading this. Truly engaging. Pulling out my kindle now... 😃 Go sports ball!