Summertime

July 15, 2011

Mrs. Gimbal bought me this book, You Made
Me Love You
. She didn’t want to do it.
For three dollars and 95 cents… cash,
as she put it. That’s a lot of money.
A Harry James songbook. You know you made
me do it. We all like Harry James, Jim.
But stop with the Summertime, okay?

The next morning the sheet music to When
the Saints Go Marching In
is pushed under
the door. Play this, the note said. Please, Jimmy.
Play anything but Summertime. I dream
about Summertime. It’s a nice song, sure.
But enough is enough. Give it a rest.
Try Cherry Pink in Apple Blossom Time.

The kids who are playing punch ball, they sing,
‘your daddy’s rich and your momma’s good looking’.
The new newspaper boy is whistling
so hush little baby, now don’t you cry.
In church on Sunday we all sing Summertime, like
it was a hymn. Your daddy’s rich, Jim,
and your momma’s good looking…

This week’s Weekly Charming’s headline starts off,
Neighborhood Noise with the WINDOWS OPEN.
Be courteous. Don’t play your trumpet on
the porch. Play different songs, it says. While we all like
a song like Summertime, it can be too much of
a good thing… Play Over the Rainbow for
tonight, okay Jimmy? Play Far, Far Away.

I’m out on the front porch with my trumpet.
It’s a hot night. Those fat first notes… I let
them hang in the hot air. It’s Summertime.
Everybody is sitting outside in
the heat. It’s 1957. No AC.
The catfish are jumping, I play… Come on,
you guys, I say, let’s sing it like you mean it

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: