Lullabies on the Subway

My parents sang lullabies to me on the 4-train.

DaDa Da DaDa, Da Da Da.

For me, it was magic. Straphangers turned into dancers. The ratta-tat-tat of the train wheels became drums. The conductor on the fuzzy intercom, a clarinetist {“Next stop Wha-Wha-Wha”].

Some riders sang along. “This is ridiculous,” others said.

Ridiculous. Ladies and Gentlemen. I want to sing to you my ridiculous lullaby. Because people will sometimes tell you your dream is impossible. That your dream is as ridiculous as singing to a baby on the subway. Well, my parents taught me that sometimes, ridiculous can be brave.

The train doors of this musical open {Act out} at the 167^th Street station in the Bronx. It is the 1970s. Two kids with a loud baby get on-and-off the trains to-and-from Manhattan.

When the door closes {Act out], they start to sing. The baby’s favorite is “Bridge over Troubled Water,” by Simon & Garfunkel.

“When you’re down and out. Feeling small.”

The song quiets the baby. He starts to nod with the ratta-tat-tat of the train wheels. He smiles at the dancing straphangers. He closes his eyes by the refrain, “Sail on Silver Girl.” Ratta-tat-tat. “Sail on By.” In the tunnel under the Harlem River, the baby imagines the violins. Da Da Da Da! He falls asleep.

Ridiculous! What parents sing lullabies on the subway? Poor ones with big dreams.

Dad gets haircuts once a year. His only shoes are the combat boots that took him through Vietnam. Mom sews her own coats, with buttons all over the place, and saves for a month to buy the Dad four White Castle burgers.

With no money for babysitters, they take the baby everywhere. And they sing to him.

The boy gets frightened by heroin addicts in the neighborhood, always swaying, never falling. DaDa Da DaDa. He cries when he hears the pop-pop of firecrackers down the street. The parents know they aren’t firecrackers. {Act out gun.] Sail on By!

They sing to him through at least five jobs and three community colleges. The boy draws space ships on chalkboards as Pappa takes organic chemistry tests. DaDa Da DaDa. He spins on office chairs as Mom punches little holes in program cards for giant office computers. He watches Mom run a supermarket cash register and Dad translate Spanish for doctors. Da Da Da Da!

No one approves. Friends, neighbors, professors, bosses, even strangers on the street walking little dogs. [Act out shaking finger.] ”Ridiculous. Ridiculous.”

Here’s where ridiculous can be brave.

With a silly song, you can laugh off the scary days. Like when the landlord once cut the heat and flooded the apartment. DaDa Da DaDa. Or when Dad had to sell textbooks for food. Sail on By!

 

With a silly song, the ridiculous can beat the impossible. When a community college tries to close night school for Mom, Dad and hundreds of other students, they protest and put the boy on stage during a demonstration. The toddler screams [Raise fist] “Sail on Silver Girl!”

That college maintains night courses to this day.

Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Silly things can be brave.

Ivan and Milagros Fernandez sing Simon & Garfunkel to that boy for over five years on the subway. And that train ride leads to others.

[Act out door] Madison Square Garden, they graduate. [Act out door] Union Street and 4^th Avenue, they buy a house.. [Act out door]. Cranbury, New Jersey, they buy a farm.

“See how they shine!”

Your dreams may not belong on other people’s subway maps. They may seem ridiculous. But which is more ridiculous, dreaming or doing nothing?

Here is the sound of doing nothing.

[Hold hand to one ear, and then the other]

And here is the sound of something ridiculous. Please sing with me.

Sail on Silver Girl. Sail on By!

Anything you do, anything you dream, will always be more beautiful than the silence of doing nothing.

This is your life. This is your train ride. What will you sing on it?

I hope it’s ridiculous.

{Act out closing door]

Thank you ladies and gentlemen.