Strangers in the Night

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Spent some time with Mom on Saturday, and for one reason or another, I grabbed my phone and started playing some old songs for her.

I started with the Carpenters because I have vivid memories of her playing their songs and singing along. Music bridges the gap in time. It didn’t take Mom more than three notes to guess who was singing.

I went to Frank and it was beautiful to watch her face light up, but then her eyes filled with tears.

“Dad sang this one to me. He listened to him all the time.”

I laughed. There was no doubt about that. Dad listened to Frank the way I listen to Bruce.

I played ‘Strangers in the Night’ and she got the name of the song before Frank’s voice filled the air.

The songs that I have on my phone were my Dad’s favorites.

That was a little foreign to Mom.

“How are you even doing that?” She asked. “How do you play those songs with your phone?”

I couldn’t really explain it because I can’t figure it out either. It’s amazing that all the music you can think of is right there…

…at my fingertips.

I played Barry Manilow and she knew the song but not the singer.

“How about this guy?” I asked, pressing play on ‘Jailhouse Rock’.

“Elvis,” she said. “He’s dead, right?”

“A long time ago.”

I tried a few more including Dean Martin and Barbara Streisand.

“They were all great,” she said. Then she paused, and seemed to be wondering if I had any other surprises.

“What about Bruce?” She asked. “You guys all loved him. Is he still alive?”

“God yes!” I said. “He was just here. We went to see him.”

I played the Springsteen song that he’d written about his Mom.

All in all we spent about an hour listening to songs, and as I headed for home I thought about the house alive with the sound of music.

We had to play those songs on a turntable.

“That’s crazy that they’re on your phone,” she said.

Yep.

Pretty cool too.

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