Saturday, November 24, 2012
Bedtime Ditty or Anytime At All
The ditty was 'Pony Boy' and if I didn't know any better I would have thought my grandmother wrote it. But of course she didn't. She just sang it like she did and every time it came to one particular point she would slow down and emphasis one particular word with as much enthusiasm as she'd shown the last one hundred times she'd recited it. Granted the babies didn't notice but the toddlers did. They'd about hold their breath when the chair stopped rocking until they heard "Whoa-my Pony Boy". Then the rocking returned as the voice danced to the end of the ditty, adding an extra hug or two for good measure.
My mother never sang 'Pony Boy.' Most afternoons when my sister was very young she would rock her to sleep and as my mother rocked she'd hum her own little ditty. I know her's was an original for there were no words-just repeated sounds hummed in such a monotone that my mother often fell asleep too.
Lullabies or ditties-words or no words-however they are defined-boil down to generations spending precious time together and that alone is worth singing from the mountain tops.