I belong to a FB writing group and they asked us to post some memoir type stories this week. Here is one I wrote years ago. The only way I can post it on a FB comment is to keep it to 8,000 characters (letters) or less. So I am blogging it instead. The picture above is my family. May you enjoy a bit of remembrance.

Our family loved to sing. Riding in the car and singing went together as easily as itching and scratching. It was a natural sequence. Oh, we listened to the radio, but it was usually for ball games, not music.

Daddy sang melody and Mom sang harmony. To my knowledge, Daddy never read music, he just enjoyed singing. He loved hymns like, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” but most of his favorites were a little more worldly.

The lyrics that still ring in my head to some of the Tsoutsouvas’ Top ’20s. Here is a gem.

Daddy would start–“I’m a ramblin’ wreck from Georgia Tech…”

“Honey, not that song.” Mom countered. She felt the song was highly improper for her children.

But, on we would go.
“I’m a ramblin’ wreck from Georgia Tech
and a heck of an engineer,
A heck of a heck of a heck of a heck of a heck of an engineer
I call my jolly good fellows
I drink my whiskey clear
I’m a ramblin’ wreck from Georgia Tech
and a heck of an engineer.”

Going to college afforded my parents many catchy tunes. Daddy attended Oregon State. Here is one we sang with giggles and gusto:

“I’m a beaver born and a beaver bred
And when I die, I’ll be a beaver dead
So it’s rah, rah for OSC
Rah, rah for OSC.
Rah, rah for OSC.”
(The mascot for Oregon State is a Beaver.)

Then there was a family favorite. We sang with great harmony, but always ended it with uproarious laughter no matter how many times we sang it.

“It was only an old beer bottle
Floating ore the foam
It was only an old beer bottle
Many miles from home.
Inside was a piece of paper
This message written on
Whoever finds this bottle,
Will find the beer all gone.”

As the miles rolled on, we sang song after song helping the time pass more quickly. We often traveled from Santa Barbara to Bell Gardens, California, where my Grandma lived. The poor road conditions and our often-ailing car made the trip a solid three hours one way. We had two adults and four children, luggage, and food in our small car. We needed some pleasant distractions to make it peacefully to our destination.

On one trip, I remember we stopped at every service station along Highway 101 to refill our leaking water heater. That trip took much more than three hours. Poor Daddy had to deal with the overheated car and four children asking with ever-gathering volume, “When are we going to get there? How much longer, Daddy?”

Thankfully, Mom always packed a Tupperware container of snacks. We had to have snacks, or it wasn’t a road trip.

Bell Gardens is a suburb of Los Angeles. Grandma lived in a small house. We’d usually stayed at Grandma’s through Sunday afternoon, attended church and had a big Sunday dinner. Later we washed dishes, got things packed, said our goodbyes, gave hugs and kisses, and plunged back into Los Angeles traffic at about dusk.

The first hour or so was high-stress. It was stop-and-start, smog-filled, four lanes of congested traffic. Dad, already tired from the weekend, was not in any mood for our restlessness. We kids would try to stay quiet. My little sister Becky, who was sitting between Dad and Mom in the front seat, would fall asleep with her head in Mom’s lap.

Once out of the heavy rat race, peace would start to settle in. By then the first stars would be visible. I can still remember pressing my face against the side window in the back seat, staring out at the stars, talking to God., and singing quietly to myself. God was so real and so close.

Before long, Daddy would say, “Let’s sing. It will help me stay awake.”

Or Daddy would start,
“I want a girl, just like the girls that married dear old Dad.
She was a pearl and the only girl that Daddy ever had
A good old-fashioned girl with heart so true
One who loved nobody else but you
Oh, I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old Dad.”

I am amazed I remember all these lyrics from 70 years ago or more.

Winding down some, Daddy and Mom would harmonize to “My Wild Irish Rose.” Mom had some Irish blood in her lineage, so it was a love song between them.

“My Wild Irish Rose,
The sweetest flower that grows.
You may search everywhere,
But none can compare with my wild Irish Rose.
My Wild Irish Rose,
The dearest flower that grows.
And someday for my sake,
She may let me take,
The bloom from my wild Irish Rose.”

Next on the Hit Parade came the fraternity song, “The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi.”

“The girl of my dreams is the sweetest girl
Of all the girls I know
Each sweet co-ed like a rainbow trail
Fades in the afterglow
The blue of her eyes and the gold of her hair
Are a blend of the Western skies
And the moonlight beams
On the girl of my dreams
She’s the sweetheart of Signa Chi.”

Time after time, without fail, everyone would fall asleep except Daddy and me. I’d move over Ginny and Johnny to sit right behind him. I’d rub his neck and shoulders and we would sing and talk all the way home. He’d thank me for staying awake with him and call me his ‘Big Girl.’

I’m not sure if he ever realized how special I felt to have these quiet times with him all to myself, without Mom and the rest of the family. I don’t ever remember sleeping in the car because I anticipated these moments so much. I was never conscious of this. Only now, do I see the patterns.

Special alone times with my Heavenly Father started very early in my life as well. It was a natural, easy habit to develop, and music has played a big part in our relationship.

When life fills with joy and sunny skies, I sing praises to God at the top of my lungs. When life has taken a turn through the desert and the hurts and fears rush in to overwhelm me, Holy Spirit brings just the right song to redirect my focus to God and off my circumstances.

Psalm 31 says God gives us songs of deliverance in our trials. In rebellion, pride, or blindness, God has used songs to call me to repentance. He’s turned me around, opened my eyes, and got my feet back on His path. He’s humbled and healed me with music, over and over again.

Songs and hymns often wake me in the morning and carry me through the day. Still, the place I am most at home singing and praying and talking to God is in the car. I often think about Daddy and the days when I was his ‘Big Girl,’ and it was just the two of us awake in the car and singing.

** If you’d like to hear some of these songs
Ramblin’ Wreck from Georgia Tech: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SnIH51niqCY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hxty2Wh_PNE

It was only an old beer bottle – the music is close and so are the words, but not exactly as we sang it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JT6y7rVWSDY

I want a girl just like the girl that married dear old dad –
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OifREE71KI

My wild Irish rose: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2G15rGhw20&list=RDp2G15rGhw20&start_radio=1

The sweetheart of Sigma Chi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6T8wYNc-Yo4

Let me call you sweetheart: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG-ZPxman3w