What a lovely song it was. It never failed to get my fingers snapping and feet tapping. The song was pretty old. Although it was performed first in 1948, I was only introduced to it once I had turned into a young adult a good decade after the song came out. I remember I had heard it for the very first time at the old pub in my hometown. I was sinking down a glass of jack when I heard the melodious voice for the very first time. Some soul with a brilliant taste in music had selected this song on that jukebox. I did not know who he was, but after the song was over, I mentally thanked him. Those were divine five minutes spent with the glass of jack in my hand, and the song on my mind.
The singer of the song sounded so sad. He told us about how he went through great hardships in life : How he lost his parents at a young age, how he was bullied on the streets, how he sang begging for alms. It was a sad song, yes. However, the part that actually hooked me on to the song was the ending. The singer managed to survive through all the hardships and made it in life. It was a happy ending for him. I really enjoyed a good end to every song. As I sat with an empty glass, the barkeeper asked me for a refill. I accepted it. While he refilled my glass, I asked him the name of the song. He told me. Never forgot the name thereafter. I moseyed to the jukebox, put a coin in and replayed the song. It was a very well spent evening.
Over the years, the song soon became my favorite one. I danced with my soon-to-be-wife on that song on our dates. I got a live band to play it in the background when I popped the question to her. Sometimes I felt that I knew the song better than I knew my wife. Every beat, every tone, even the exact duration of the saxophone solo, I knew it all. I was always quite happy with myself for possessing such intricate knowledge about my favorite song. I passed on the love of the song to my son. He is a teenager now. He has his own brand of loud music he loves blasting on the speakers at home. However, all those times this slow, euphonious track played somewhere in between those other garish tracks, it gave me confidence. Confidence that we had brought up my son right. I have faith that he will keep the fondness I have for the song alive, and pass it on in the future.
Indeed, what a lovely song it was!
It always helps when there is a story to every aspect of you. This song, I never really heard it before they captured me and put me in this tenebrous cell. They keep playing it on loop, every five minutes without a pause. I hear the same thing every day and every night. The only respite from the music I get is when they enter the cell to continue their daily interrogation. I find it amusing to see their reactions when they find out that their music torture has still not broken me. The only way I have remained sane is by building stories about this song. A pub some time, my dad’s favorite song sometime, so many stories I have made up in my mind about why I love this song. I really do not have a choice. I have to continue adoring this song. The moment I start hating it, is the moment they will get to me. This song will never get to me. They will never succeed.
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