Early in the evening of June 15th, 2026, I was walking West on 9th St. between N. Hawthorne and Emerson Ave.; I saw a woman on the ground at the side of her yard, doing something gardening-wise. As I got closer to the house a young face popped into view on the porch. Peering over the bushes, a small boy smiled and waved at me, then said, brightly, “Good morning!” As is my wont, I returned the boy’s greeting with a song: “Good morning, good morning, how are you today? I love you; I love you, come out and go play!” The woman in the side yard, who might have been his mother, turned a wide smile on the two of us as I continued my walk toward Emerson Ave.
My impromptu delivery of song that day is typical of me; I’ve written of the songs that I sing to the staff upon my arrival at my favorite cidery, and the song that I sing when I leave. My melodic (I hope) outbursts prompted both the Editor and the Creative Director of this publication to suggest that I accept the invitation of the Irvington Arts Collective to join the Irvington Community Chorus; I have been “flinging out” songs with them since 2024. The song that I sang to that young boy that day was one that I composed for my youngest daughter, who used to be crabby when she woke up. I sang the song to encourage her to be more joyful when her eyes opened. The first time that I delivered it to her, Lauren slapped me on the chest and said, “Stop, please.” Operation “Epic Happiness” failed, but I soldiered on and was recently surprised to hear my youngest granddaughter quietly singing to one of her 7,000 toy dolls, the song that her mother had rejected. It is ironic that Myah did not sing the song I had composed for her, which starts, “Good morning, Crabby Appleton…” Like mother, like daughter, they say.
“Cogito, ergo sum” is a Latin phrase that translates to “I think, therefore I am,” which is the “first principle” of the philosophy of René Descartes, a French scientist and philosopher. I have co-opted and altered the phrase to “canto, ergo sum.” Canto is Latin for “I sing,” which I do. I fling out bits of song during my travels along the path of life. When my eldest child was in grade school, she was asked for a suggestion for a school program; Lisa responded, “My father will sing.” I have sung at weddings, as well as at my grandmother’s funeral. (That one was a very difficult, “Old Rugged Cross.”)
The titles of two of poet Maya Angelou’s autobiographical works are derived from lines from a poem written by Paul Laurence Dunbar. In “Sympathy,” Dunbar wrote “I know what the caged bird feels …” Later in the poem, he wrote that the song the caged bird sings is “… a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings …” I don’t know where my songs are going, except into the ears of (perhaps) unwitting “ear-witnesses,” but I will continue to fling them out. Due to some unfortunate family circumstances, I will not be able to participate in Harmony Collected’s last concert, a collaboration with the Indiana Choral Director’s Association on Monday, June 22nd. But I will be in attendance, listening raptly as Dr. Webb Parker, the Founding Executive and Artistic Director of the Irvington Arts Collective, encourages the chorus to fling out some more of the songs that we have practiced and flung out before.
“Canto!”
cjon3acd@att.net