"Death walks faster than the wind and never returns what he has taken."
Hans Christian Andersen
The Story of a Mother (1847)
Today is Thanksgiving. It is also the day before my birthday.
And as I've gotten older, I guess one of the things that has had the most meaning for me is my contribution — as small as it may sometimes seem to be — to the next generation.
Quite often, the younger generation has rejected the things I have tried to pass along, and that's OK. Each generation marches to its own drumbeat, as Henry David Thoreau might say.
I do hope, though, that, one day, some of those younger folks will develop a liking for Mark Twain or Mozart — and if some of them do, they may recall that I recommended "Huckleberry Finn" or "Don Giovanni" when they were young and thought they already knew it all.
They probably won't — and that's OK, too. I don't crave credit or recognition for introducing someone to a great writer or a great composer.
But today I've been thinking of something I shared with a little girl many years ago, and I hope she always remembers it — and someday shares it with her own children.
That little girl is a young woman today — in fact, she just got engaged recently — but when she was little, I made a tape for her of a movie that was one of my favorites when I was her age — "Hans Christian Andersen" starring Danny Kaye.
It was 58 years ago today that that movie made its debut. It was not a literal biography. In fact, in the film's introduction, it calls itself "a fairy tale about the storyteller," and it wove a narrative around songs and dances inspired by Andersen's stories.
Anyway, I gave that tape to this little girl and followed that with a copy of Andersen's stories. Inside the cover of the book, I wrote, "Elise; Always remember. The book is almost always better than the movie."
I really believe that. I've read many books that were made into movies, and I can't think of a single case in which the movie was better than the book that inspired it.
Some did come close, but none has ever been as good as the book.
But, gosh, it would be hard to beat seeing and hearing Danny Kaye. That's still a treat, and it's one that every generation should enjoy.
The movie was in the theaters many years before I was born, but, as I understand it, it was quite a hit in its day. I suppose all of the songs in it enjoyed a certain amount of popularity, although I doubt that "Inchworm" was the movie's #1 song when it was released.
In fact, if moviegoers at the time were asked to name a song from the movie, many probably would name "Thumbelina." It was, after all, nominated for an Academy Award — which it lost to "Do Not Forsake Me, Oh My Darlin' " from the legendary "High Noon."
But the song I always think of whenever my thoughts turn to "Hans Christian Andersen" is the song in the video at the top of this post — "Inchworm." I have a very hazy memory, from when I was little, of my grandmother singing me to sleep with that song.
It isn't a complete memory, just snippets, really — images, sensations. I can remember being in a bedroom in my grandmother's house. I remember my grandmother sitting next to the bed, singing softly.I don't know what time of year it was, but my memory is that it was warm in the bedroom. Maybe that is because the heat was on, or maybe it was just a warm time of the year.
I also recall my mother coming in and out of the room. I don't know why. It's a fleeting image with no real context.
I also have no memory of whether my brother was there. I was 3 when he was born so he may have been there and he may not.
Clearly, there are gaps in this particular memory — but that is understandable, I guess, if I was only 2 or 3 years old at the time.
In spite of its gaps, though, it's a pleasant, comforting, safe memory for me. And I still think "Inchworm" makes a darn good lullabye.
Congratulations, Elise. I hope you have a long and happy marriage.
And I really do hope you share "Hans Christian Andersen" with your own children.
Maybe you'll even sing them to sleep with "Inchworm."
