Over There, Over There!
On rainy days here in Georgia when I was growing up, I found myself stuck in the house. But I had a great imagination, so this never hampered the hours of my play. For on rainy days I entertained the troops! Me? A little girl? Entertained the troops?
Yes, I had a nice life of fantasy and it serves one well when one is an only child stuck inside due to inclement weather. But the troop idea, well, that started with my folks and George M. Cohan. You know Cohan—the author of WWI songs like “Over There” and “You’re A Grand Old Flag.” My folks supplied the rest with a good old fashioned dose of patriotism. After having just fought in WWII my father never lost a chance to remind me how lucky I was to be an American, and my mother never passed up an opportunity to sing a song to me. Those were not all patriotic, but I still remember the lyrics of most of them. We sang songs that no one else in the world now probably knows existed, let alone remembers the lyrics. (Like “Leg of Mutton Dance” by Sigmund Romberg.)
I was particularly taken by Cohan and his spunkiness, and lyrics and just being an all around Yankee Doodle Dandy. His songs stirred me, and made me a little bit sorry I missed the two world wars. Always the movies portrayed beautiful songbirds who roused the troops and helped us win those wars. Of course I wanted to be like them—talented women, singing to the troops.
So I sang. To the troops. Now it did not matter that I was far from war, or had no troops at hand. What mattered was that I sang with all my heart. My mother had an old deco vanity with two sides that dropped down to the center where she kept all her makeup, perfume, you know, lady stuff. I would always take one side of this piece of furniture, carefully clear away any breakables, and poise myself in front of the beautiful round mirror in preparation of singing.
One of my favorite movies was about the songstress Jane Froman, portrayed by Susan Hayward in “With A Song In My Heart.” This was a particularly touching story as Ms. Froman suffered injuries in a plane crash on the way to entertain the troops. Her story of strength and her struggle to recover, probably served me well when I had polio.
But the main thing Jane did was sing beautifully, and to thousands of those fighting in WWII. And so I would drape myself with a beautiful scarf of my mother’s and sing away. I knew all those songs and sang like the world and freedom depended on it. I would smile, and pose and try so hard to be Susan Hayward. I knew some day I would save the whole world from cataclysm with just a song. And then the rain would stop and I would join the other kids outside.
But once when I was little I came close to this troop scenario. When I had polio I became a mini poster girl for my county. I went everywhere in my wheelchair with a group of leading local citizens trying to raise money for the March of Dimes. My father became the Chairman for our County’s March.
One day I was told the next jaunt would take all us canvassers to a nearby Air Force Base. My joy could hardly be contained for I was going to be with the troops. Granted, I would not sing, but I would be stumping for a cause and there would be troops. That sounded a lot like Jane Froman to me.
On the day of our visit I wore my prettiest red dress, and made sure my curls were just so, and off we went. We collected money, some talks were made, and I got to sit with a general as I was flanked by some local airmen contributing to the March of Dimes.
It wasn’t really singing for the troops, and I wasn’t Susan Hayward. But I was there for a cause, a cause that can have casualties like war, and I was working to fight a vicious adversary. So even though I did not hit one note of any song, I realized my dream of being with the troops for a cause. One dream realized.
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Want to hear Jane Froman? You can hear her here at Youtube, singing "With A Song In My Heart":