Sing it with a twist!
My Grandfather Bennett used to make variations on famous songs. He was always well behaved in a public setting, but at home, he would have a little fun. We have a hymn, "Welcome, welcome, Sabbath morning, now we rest from every care," which would translate into, "now we rest on every chair" just to make us smile. The chorus, "Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing. Hosanna in the highest, hosanna to your king," he sang for us once as, "You're losing 'em, you're losing 'em, lift up your skirts and see--you're losing your hose, Anna, they're way down around your knees." Those are the only two I remember right offhand, I'm sure there are many others lost in the recesses of my brain.
When I was maybe nine (ten?), the second joint summer trip west with my sister Carolyn, we were pressed into service for the Bennett family reunion to sing in memory of our great-grandfather, John Bennett. My Aunt Rosemary had written up a song for all the great-grandchildren to sing, and she drilled us on it. (She didn't live in Utah either, she was visiting for the occasion.) I can still remember all the verses, using "Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious!" from Mary Poppins.
Fast forward to my grandparents' 50th anniversary, for which they had a big party and invited all kinds of people from the Washington, D.C. world of government as well as family. It included a program of traditional tributes (I think) and clever compositions. My four-year old cousin Jim was drilled, primed, and prepped to stand and recite (unaltered) a comical song. He did just fine in all the rehearsals, then came out on stage and saw all those people, heard the introductory music, and fled at his cue. It brought down the house--we knew what they missed as a number, a really fun number, but he was four and everyone could relate. I think it was my cousin Peggy who sang "Tit-Willow" from The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan as a song that Gram used to sing to her children. My mother used to sing it to us. There were a number of songs of either straight or altered types on the program, including the announcement that the first great-grandchild was on the way.
There was an article in the Washington Post society page, titled, "What it was, was a party," including a picture of the high school-aged granddaughters singing and pantomiming. So I can truthfully say that I have had my picture in one of the nation's premier newspapers.
For their 60th, I had to come from my youngest sister's wedding in Washington, D.C. to Salt Lake and meet Hubby and our three girls there; he had to drive alone. We had all gone to the last family wedding, but we hadn't been able to manage this time. My brother Morgan had hurt his back, so Mom and I had to drive his VW Rabbit across the country while he flew back to BYU. (This was before I myself was injured.) On the way, we composed a Frances-family song for the program, something that would be easy enough to hand out and have one rehearsal. It was interesting to me that my mother fretted a bit that we had to have something, because Rosemary would have her branch of the descendants well prepared--sibling rivalry doesn't disappear completely. I had fun doing that on the fly with her, to the tune of "The Primary Colors" in the children's songbook. "The Washington social whirl called to say, get on our merry-go-round...." Unfortunately, I don't remember all the words, and if I kept a copy I don't know where to find it now.
I always wanted to do this kind of thing, just once, myself. My father made noises about expecting a program, and it was our job as kids (and mine as oldest) to do one for their 60th anniversary party. Mom in the background assured me that we were not obliged, they just wanted us to come. I think that if the original plans had held for us to all come to the first party, which was a dinner in a simpler setting, we might have gone for it. With the delay of us children until the second event, the gallery opening, a family presentation program was not a good fit.
Carolyn created a custom Wordle to present the night before, which contained input from all of us, and was great fun. We had emailed back and forth on that, and I asked if the rest of them were game to do one song, if I came up with one. I proposed using the chorus from that long-ago Bennett reunion in my childhood, and creating new verses, and they said they would go along.
Well, the thing wasn't quite finished when I arrived at the folks, and Carolyn helped me with a spot I was stuck on. I gave up one of my favorite lines because it didn't work, tinkered a little more, and had a finished piece. I surreptitiously gave it out and cued my siblings in, and we were going to surprise them at dinner with singing it together and then taking turns sharing a favorite memory from our growing up--a personal bit, rather than a public one. Not quite a grand production, but fun, I hoped, and at least I would have checked this hankering off my bucket list, I guess.
Except--we never made it into dinner together. Dad fell and was taken off to the hospital instead, for what turned out to be several stitches in his finger, a broken arm, and--thankfully--not a concussion. We were all eventually gathered together in the apartment that night, but no one was worrying anymore about anything except how he was feeling. Carolyn and Bryan left the next morning, on the same flight in fact, and that just left me and Alison, who had an extra day.
But dang it, I really just wanted to do this silly song. I asked if she was still game, and she said yes. So at the end of Sunday dinner I said, we had this plan... and we sang our ditty. Even if we had not had a run-through together, and even if Alison didn't remember that the last line in the verse and in the chorus were NOT identical in melody, and even if she went so fast that we couldn't stay together. And even though it wasn't all of us, nicely prepared and offering our individual tributes. At least I could give them a printed copy and say we tried. All we could do was laugh a little, and call it good.
SOOoo....Here it is!
We come from Washington, D.C., we are the Jeppson clan.
It all began in '52 when Lawrence married Fran.
As one by one we all arrived, Dad built a bigger house--
Space necessary to survive six children plus his spouse!
(chorus) We're super-cali-fragilicious-expi-ali-docious.
Every single one of us is really quite precocious.
If we all should talk at once, the noise would be ferocious!
We're super-cali-fragi-licious-expi-ali-docious!
We traveled all around the country, camping as we went.
In cities where we knew someone, a bed seemed heaven-sent.
But usually Dad cranked up the tent, and it was quite a trick
To make the kids cooperate, it wasn't always slick!
(chorus)
From Rockies to the Maritimes, and places inbetween:
Fed armadillos marshmallows, 'twas quite a campfire scene!
Our station wagon bit the dust, it had to be replaced,
The camping trailer hit the road pulled by a limosine!
(chorus)
Those years are gone, we all are grown, have families of our own--
The tales are told, the memories warm, and now we gather round.
The ups and downs, catastrophes that every family knows,
We also had our own sweet joys and this is how it goes!
(chorus--We're super-cali-fragi-licious-! etc.)
And we are--definitely! (thanks, Aunt Rosemary) Thanks, Mom and Dad! life's been grand.
When I was maybe nine (ten?), the second joint summer trip west with my sister Carolyn, we were pressed into service for the Bennett family reunion to sing in memory of our great-grandfather, John Bennett. My Aunt Rosemary had written up a song for all the great-grandchildren to sing, and she drilled us on it. (She didn't live in Utah either, she was visiting for the occasion.) I can still remember all the verses, using "Supercalifragiliciousexpialidocious!" from Mary Poppins.
Fast forward to my grandparents' 50th anniversary, for which they had a big party and invited all kinds of people from the Washington, D.C. world of government as well as family. It included a program of traditional tributes (I think) and clever compositions. My four-year old cousin Jim was drilled, primed, and prepped to stand and recite (unaltered) a comical song. He did just fine in all the rehearsals, then came out on stage and saw all those people, heard the introductory music, and fled at his cue. It brought down the house--we knew what they missed as a number, a really fun number, but he was four and everyone could relate. I think it was my cousin Peggy who sang "Tit-Willow" from The Mikado by Gilbert and Sullivan as a song that Gram used to sing to her children. My mother used to sing it to us. There were a number of songs of either straight or altered types on the program, including the announcement that the first great-grandchild was on the way.
There was an article in the Washington Post society page, titled, "What it was, was a party," including a picture of the high school-aged granddaughters singing and pantomiming. So I can truthfully say that I have had my picture in one of the nation's premier newspapers.
For their 60th, I had to come from my youngest sister's wedding in Washington, D.C. to Salt Lake and meet Hubby and our three girls there; he had to drive alone. We had all gone to the last family wedding, but we hadn't been able to manage this time. My brother Morgan had hurt his back, so Mom and I had to drive his VW Rabbit across the country while he flew back to BYU. (This was before I myself was injured.) On the way, we composed a Frances-family song for the program, something that would be easy enough to hand out and have one rehearsal. It was interesting to me that my mother fretted a bit that we had to have something, because Rosemary would have her branch of the descendants well prepared--sibling rivalry doesn't disappear completely. I had fun doing that on the fly with her, to the tune of "The Primary Colors" in the children's songbook. "The Washington social whirl called to say, get on our merry-go-round...." Unfortunately, I don't remember all the words, and if I kept a copy I don't know where to find it now.
I always wanted to do this kind of thing, just once, myself. My father made noises about expecting a program, and it was our job as kids (and mine as oldest) to do one for their 60th anniversary party. Mom in the background assured me that we were not obliged, they just wanted us to come. I think that if the original plans had held for us to all come to the first party, which was a dinner in a simpler setting, we might have gone for it. With the delay of us children until the second event, the gallery opening, a family presentation program was not a good fit.
Carolyn created a custom Wordle to present the night before, which contained input from all of us, and was great fun. We had emailed back and forth on that, and I asked if the rest of them were game to do one song, if I came up with one. I proposed using the chorus from that long-ago Bennett reunion in my childhood, and creating new verses, and they said they would go along.
Well, the thing wasn't quite finished when I arrived at the folks, and Carolyn helped me with a spot I was stuck on. I gave up one of my favorite lines because it didn't work, tinkered a little more, and had a finished piece. I surreptitiously gave it out and cued my siblings in, and we were going to surprise them at dinner with singing it together and then taking turns sharing a favorite memory from our growing up--a personal bit, rather than a public one. Not quite a grand production, but fun, I hoped, and at least I would have checked this hankering off my bucket list, I guess.
Except--we never made it into dinner together. Dad fell and was taken off to the hospital instead, for what turned out to be several stitches in his finger, a broken arm, and--thankfully--not a concussion. We were all eventually gathered together in the apartment that night, but no one was worrying anymore about anything except how he was feeling. Carolyn and Bryan left the next morning, on the same flight in fact, and that just left me and Alison, who had an extra day.
But dang it, I really just wanted to do this silly song. I asked if she was still game, and she said yes. So at the end of Sunday dinner I said, we had this plan... and we sang our ditty. Even if we had not had a run-through together, and even if Alison didn't remember that the last line in the verse and in the chorus were NOT identical in melody, and even if she went so fast that we couldn't stay together. And even though it wasn't all of us, nicely prepared and offering our individual tributes. At least I could give them a printed copy and say we tried. All we could do was laugh a little, and call it good.
SOOoo....Here it is!
We come from Washington, D.C., we are the Jeppson clan.
It all began in '52 when Lawrence married Fran.
As one by one we all arrived, Dad built a bigger house--
Space necessary to survive six children plus his spouse!
(chorus) We're super-cali-fragilicious-expi-ali-docious.
Every single one of us is really quite precocious.
If we all should talk at once, the noise would be ferocious!
We're super-cali-fragi-licious-expi-ali-docious!
We traveled all around the country, camping as we went.
In cities where we knew someone, a bed seemed heaven-sent.
But usually Dad cranked up the tent, and it was quite a trick
To make the kids cooperate, it wasn't always slick!
(chorus)
From Rockies to the Maritimes, and places inbetween:
Fed armadillos marshmallows, 'twas quite a campfire scene!
Our station wagon bit the dust, it had to be replaced,
The camping trailer hit the road pulled by a limosine!
(chorus)
Those years are gone, we all are grown, have families of our own--
The tales are told, the memories warm, and now we gather round.
The ups and downs, catastrophes that every family knows,
We also had our own sweet joys and this is how it goes!
(chorus--We're super-cali-fragi-licious-! etc.)
And we are--definitely! (thanks, Aunt Rosemary) Thanks, Mom and Dad! life's been grand.
I love your song! And I know that Alison is precocious! So you must be, too!
ReplyDeleteOh dear, I can't even read Don's word precocious without supercallifragilisticking all over the place in my brain.
ReplyDeleteWe had great fun with our duet! (And Dad broke his wrist as well as his arm. Never was sure if it was on the same arm or not.)
It was the same arm. Technically he didn't break his wrist, he got a tiny broken arm fragment--like internal shrapnel--into his wrist.
ReplyDeleteAs to the supercalifragilisticking, think how I've felt ever since I was ten! My brain's had that track for years! I still know all THOSE words. ("We never knew Great-Grandpa B., but he was quite a man...")"Baby farming" is one of the verse topics, that was his line for raising kids.