How My Grandpa’s Singing Changed My Life

On this episode of Our American Stories, Maureen Elwyn shares the heartfelt story of a moment with her elderly grandfather and his beautiful singing as she played the organ. We’d like to thank Leslie Leyland Fields for introducing us to this story.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:10):
This is Lee Habib and this is our American Stories,
the show where America is the star and the American
people coming to you from the city where the West begins,
Fort Worth, Texas. Up next, a story on a family tradition,
or rather a family talent, for Maureen Elwin. Mareen is
a writing student of our regular contributor Leslie leyland Fields.

(00:31):
Let's get into the story. Take it away, Maureen.

Speaker 2 (00:35):
His trembling voice shattered the stillness of the room, like
a baby's cry at night. Play It again, bus, only
this time sing it with me. I started the hymn again,
my fingers trembling as the keys of the tiny cord
organ came to life. Tentatively reaching the chorus, I began

(00:57):
to sing the familiar words.

Speaker 1 (01:00):
And he walks with me, and he.

Speaker 2 (01:02):
Talks with me softly. At first, my grandfather joined his
voice with mine in simple, sweet harmony, gaining strength and
volume with each new note and word he sang. I
could hardly believe my sixteen year old ears. My maternal

(01:29):
grandfather was already an old man when I was born,
his body ravaged by years of Parkinson's disease. He could
no longer hold a fork or a cup he ate
with a spoon and sipped his coffee through a glass straw.
Having grown frustrated with his dentures after a dentist pulled
all of his teeth, he opted instead to remain toothless gumbing,

(01:52):
bread and butter, cereal and soft foods for most of
his meals. I called this gentle soul Daddy Dee, and
he called me buses, his special name for the little
girl kisses he loved. My mother had often told me

(02:13):
that during her schoolgirl years, she, my aunt, and my
grandfather would stand on the Courthouse Street corner on Saturday night,
serenading shoppers who came to town to purchase groceries and
supplies for the coming week. With perfect pitch and the
ability to sing flawless tenor to a song after hearing

(02:35):
it only once. He'd been offered a spot in a
traveling opera company, but he chose to stay at home
and enjoy the simple life of husband, father, and eventually grandfather.
By the time I was born, he conquered a long

(02:57):
time battle with alcoholism, but the constant shaking of his hands,
coupled with the damage reeked on his mouth and throat
by the lack of teeth left him unable and unwilling
to sing. Tears stinging my eyes and a lump forming
in my throat, I stumbled through the rest of the

(03:19):
remaining Hen's chorus, lost in song. He didn't notice my
sudden loss of composure. When we finished the final chorus,
I dropped my hands to my lap, afraid to look around.
The sound of the glass straw tinkling against the coffee

(03:41):
cup signaled the end of our spontaneous duet, and it
offered me the opportunity to escape from the room. Retreating
to my bedroom, I quickly closed the door for a
much needed moment of privacy, throwing myself on the bed
and contemplating the annoyrmity of the moment I had just

(04:01):
unwittingly experienced. Daddy Lee lived three hundred and fifty miles away,
and he seldom visited us. Yet here we were, joining
our voices and song, Me an awkward teenager with my
whole life ahead of me, and he an aging man,
stooped and stunned by the hard knocks on the road

(04:25):
of wife. Sadly, it would be the first and last
time I would hear my grandfather sing that evening, after
I had tearfully told my mother about the unexpected vocalizing,
I learned that although he had never heard his father sing,

(04:46):
Daddy d had inherited the elder's gift of music. A
favorite performer at local dances, Thomas Edgerton, had been accosted
by a group of hooded men as he walked home
on a moonlight Saturday night, Intending to merely scare the
musician and rough him up a bit. One accuser lectured

(05:07):
my great grandfather at length on the frivolity of a
married man spending his weekends entertaining others. A second man
spat in his face and warned him of the consequences
of singing in a band with a black man. In
a fit of anger, my great grandfather ripped the hood

(05:29):
from his accuser's head, his identity reveal. The man fired
a single shot. Two days later, the family buried Thomas
in an unmarked pauper's grave, his melodious voice forever silenced.
Mulling over my mother's words and remembering the trembling yet

(05:53):
beautiful tenor voice of my grandfather, I suddenly realized that
although a vile, senseless act has snuffed out the life
of my great grandfather. It could never extinguish my grandfather's
joy for singing. The memory of that momentary afternoon's duet

(06:15):
with Daddy d is one I will always treasure. But
more importantly, the gift that he passed on to me
in the four generations which have followed him, will last
a lifetime. It was he who showed my family, for example,
the absolute joy of bursting into song, whether for an

(06:38):
audience or simply for ourselves. It was he who communicated
to us that the human voice is the perfect instrument
for evoking memories or releasing our emotions. And it was
he who revealed to us that although singing is as
simple as breathing, it self, has a power to alter

(07:02):
our moods. Yes, the Edgerton's blood and the sound of
music run deep through my veins, a constant reminder of
my past, my present, and my future. And with a
legacy like that, I ask, how can I keep from singing?

Speaker 1 (07:24):
Maureen Ewen's story here on our American Stories Liehabib here,
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(07:46):
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