Bramblings: The fat lady sings

Photo by Becky Nelson
Snow! The weather has been on a roller coaster ride the last few days with temperatures in the sixties on Wednesday, temps in the 20s on Thursday and a big snowstorm on Friday.

Winter isn’t done with us yet. As my dad used to say, “It ain’t over until the fat lady sings.” This reference to opera was always greeted with chuckles in the household, as my mother, who appreciated fine music and opera and was a bit overweight, was a soloist and sang a lot every day. My father liked bluerass and “twangy” country ballads. He had an old Victrola in his den, and every now and again would pull the old cylinders out of storage and play them for us kids. Our favorite, “Rabbit in the Pea Patch,” always started a chorus with us kids, dad and mom singing the ridiculous verses as the needle scratched and the voices on the cylinder skipped and crackled:

“Rabbit in the pea patch, pickin’ out peas; Rabbit in the pea patch, pickin’ out peas; Rabbit in the pea patch, pickin’ out peas; Thought I heard a chicken sneeze.” Then my mom would pull out records as old as they came and play opera by Madam Schumman Heink, a contralto opera singer that was one of her favorites or music by Enrico Caruso, an Italian opera singer in the late 1800s and early 1900s. Enrico was one of her very favorites. She named a canary that graced a cage in our living room Enrico, her favorite pet. When the opera would sing, Enrico would sing…the most beautiful bird song I have ever heard.

We always had music playing in the house when growing up. My mother, a trained soprano soloist, gained some reputation in the area, traveling to churches, singing solos. I, and many like me, were mesmerized and brought to tears often by her amazing voice, a gift from God we were all convinced. Her love of music instilled a love of music in us kids, and we had a childhood full of piano lessons, trumpet lessons, harmonicas, Irish flutes and singing. Lots of singing. We even listened to music every night at bedtime with a little portable record player in our shared bedroom when we were kids.

My father was not much of a singer, but would make up funny ditties while we were doing farm chores, just to make the chores a little more tolerable. One of the funniest was sung one day while we processed chickens, a disgusting job with lots of yuckiness involved. The process is one of the dirtiest, stinkiest and gut churning we ever did each year. “Hate like the dickens to mess around with chickens; Plucking feathers, you and me; Plucking the rooster just like we used ta; Lets go back to A&P.” The laughter and music made the horrible job tolerable.

My mom passed away last Friday, taking with her the voice that still amazed many as she lifted it in song at church until COVID-19 times. She did, however, leave a love of music and a commitment to make even the most intolerable of times tolerable with a laugh, a smile or a song. Farming is and has always been tough. The work is hard. The uncertainties are deep. The valleys can be low. But music always brought us a smile and lifted heavy hearts and took a little bit of the worry away for a time. In the last couple of decades of her life, my mom adopted the “Live, Love, Laugh” mantra and added Sing to the mix.

Christmas music was always a favorite of the family. After Thanksgiving dinner, mom would always dig out the stack of Christmas vinyl and the house turned into a music hall with orchestras and choirs singing for a month before Christmas. She loved turning the lights on the Christmas tree and sitting in the otherwise dark living room, listening to the music. While living here at home with me the last few years, she loved the very same. I turned the lights off on the outdoor Christmas trees just about a month ago, thinking it was a bit late. I never undressed the trees, so I have turned the lights back on each night in her memory. I just might pull out some Christmas albums, too.

With the world seemingly burning around us with pandemics, wars, invasions, personal traumas or illnesses, natural disasters and intolerable events, I urge you all to find your favorite song, sit in a comfy chair, and let the worries wash away for a few minutes. Life can be very heavy. But it ain’t over until the fat lady sings. Enjoy the opera of life and a bit of a song in your heart. Carry some music with you wherever you go and let the distraction and the joy take over once in a while. Even when processing chickens.

Becky Nelson is co-owner of Beaver Pond Farm in Newport. You may reach her at [email protected].