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...and they lived happily ever after. Smith & Lady: poets, artists, photographers & adventurers.
Our relationship was forged to the soundtrack of Yoko Ono's magic,
frenetic, love-laden song, "Walking On Thin Ice." ( play song )

1949, 1946, 1808, 1947

Oaxacan street art graffiti – foto by smith

I keep hearing myself unknowingly “making music” as I walk along – humming, mumbling, whistling, semi-singing. I say “semi-singing” because in the early 1950s in my little white wood two room country school house which had 30 kids in all eight grades, I was in the Christmas play as part of the angelic chorus. After our first run through, the teacher told me not to sing, that I should hum instead. After our second run through, she told me not to sing AND not to hum – just open my mouth in silence and pretend. I can’t carry a tune – but I can make folk laugh out loud when I try.

Still I frequently find myself humming or vocally noodling – and it is almost always one of 4 tunes:

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo” (also called “The Magic Song“) which I first heard in 1949 by Perry Como and The Fontane Sisters, and then heard again in Cinderella in 1950;

Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” is a 1946 (the year I was born) Disney song from the movie Song of the South;

the first few bars of Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, 1808;

and most often the theme song for The Howdy Doody Show (1947 through 1960):

It’s Howdy Doody Time.
It’s Howdy Doody Time.
Bob Smith and Howdy Do
Say Howdy Do to you.
Let’s give a rousing cheer,
Cause Howdy Doody’s here,
It’s time to start the show,
So kids let’s go!

(to the tune of Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay”).

That’s all now&then and then, so here’s now:

Leaning out my night window watching, I see Yipper the male night dog yapper lying before the closed doors across the street wanting inside to be with his timid black lady dog friend. A red Volkswagen pulls up. Yipper sees the car and goes ecstatic, making little yelps and whiffs and sniffs while jiggling all about. Woman gets out of VW. Yipper runs to her. She ignores him. Yipper follows her, bouncing happy. Woman unlocks double doors, opens one slightly and Yipper runs in.

I don’t know how smart dogs are, but it looked to me like Yipper saw the red VW, recognized which car it was, and knew it contained a person who would open the door for him. That’s basic problem solving 101.

And now, back to the more serious days of then.

Salagadoola mechicka boola
Put ’em together and what have you got

Salagadoola mechicka boola
It’ll do magic believe it or not

Salagadoola means mechicka booleroo
But the thingmabob
that does the job
is bibbidi-bobbidi-boo

Salagadoola menchicka boola
Put ’em together and what have you got

Music: Mack David and Al Hoffman
Lyrics: Jerry Livingston

Oaxacan street art graffiti – foto by smith
This entry was posted on Friday, November 21st, 2008 at 4:30 pm and is filed under Mexico. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

One Response to “1949, 1946, 1808, 1947”

  1. MadM says:

    In Scotland (last time not this time) I was waiting for a train in a sleepy small village. An old Scottish terrier
    walked onto the station platform and sat on the ground next to me. Train came from the other direction, dog walked over and greeted his human, and they went home together. Station master told me that occurred daily.
    My dogs (now down to one) know the sound of my car, and I once took care of six horses who knew my step. They would call out to me as I approached the barn.

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