Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SING (08/16/18)
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TITLE: Singing on the Dock of the Bay | Previous Challenge Entry
By LINDA GERMAIN
08/22/18 -
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While my age was still in single digits, our family moved to a place as foreign to me as another planet. From a flat, cotton-growing, sleepy little town in a rural area of a southern state, we headed for a new home I never could have imagined. Florida!
Technically, it’s south of the Mason Dixon line, but even a child would notice a distinct flavor generated by its unique spot on the map.
No one had prepared my brother and me for the realities of sand, ocean, palm trees, or other kinds of exotic surroundings. Chameleons, sand spurs, mosquitoes, large bugs, and impending hurricanes were taken in stride by the natives, winter vacationers, and permanent transplants. As with any new environment, in time those unfamiliar things became commonplace to us. We loved our current state of sunshine.
Minimum wage income did not leave any leftover funds for family entertainment. What a blessing that some activities do not demand money to be enjoyed. Searching for that option is probably what led my dad to discover the existence of the amazing Million Dollar Pier.
Built in 1926, the impressive 1,452-foot long landmark shot out into Tampa Bay as if by magic. Two lanes of vehicle and foot traffic were held aloft by mysterious concrete pilings whose intricacies could be fathomed only by structural engineers.
On warm, salty-air evenings we would stroll down the wide sidewalk and peer over the railing to watch waves rolling to shore. There were always a few hopeful people happily casting lines to catch whatever fish might be surfacing for breadcrumb handouts. A beautiful Mediterranean Revival Architecture style building stood majestically at the end as if waiting patiently for our arrival.
Through the archways, an open-air market ambiance provided souvenirs,
Floridian motif wares, and delicious smelling food for sale. Mostly, we looked but did not touch. As children, the freedom to roam around safely, eat popcorn, and spend unhurried time with hard-working parents was like a holiday to us.
Recollections of balmy breezes punctuated with the scent of sea brine and freshly caught fish frame the best part of that pier memory. It was the unstructured, free-for-all singing that still makes me smile.
In the middle of the building were rows of wooden benches. I don’t know what other large groups used them. All I knew about were the wonderful sing-a-longs.
Since our new town had a reputation as a retirement community, there were many elderly ladies and gentlemen there who seemed to enjoy belting out lyrics that were popular back in their respective generations. I had never heard a lot of the music, but it was exciting to join in with strangers of every age to sing things like Bicycle Built for Two.
Sadly, one lonely chord seemed to play over and over by folks who made some variation of the same wistful remark to us kids.
“I have grandchildren about your age, but they don’t live around here.”
Recently, my mother asked me if I remembered the woman who sometimes sat in the back and stunned the eclectic accumulation of warblers with her magnificent voice.
“She must have been a professional opera singer. We couldn’t help but turn around and stare, but it didn’t seem to bother her.”
After all these years, what I remember most is the peace and comfort of the surprising camaraderie that surrounded us as we sang fun or patriotic old songs with people we did not know. Some were off key, many were gravelly voiced and hesitant, a few were of outstanding musical theater quality.
The memory of the scent of that salty bay water wafts across my mind with reruns of fading pictures of a simpler time. There was no talk of political parties, or religious or skin color differences, or of guns or war or the economy.
No protests filled with hate or misunderstanding showed ugly faces.
There was contentment and laughter and the sweet, sweet sound of voices connected by an undetectable thread from a bygone era as we gathered in harmony for uplifting concerts on that big, impressive pier in St. Petersburg, Florida, U.S.A.
Sometimes, beautiful sermons written on invisible notes quietly slip in to teach us things we needed to know, and in ways we never expected.
_____
1 John 3:18
Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions
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I must tell you this piece is brilliantly written. Your descriptions are so vivid and the narrative has such a sweet voice that draws the reader in. This was 1st place to me.
God Bless