Melancholy Mary listens to sad songs, and her children *still* don't go to bed.

A whole new year

Started as a new year's post, was abandoned for a time, 

ambled through philosophical thoughts, and ended with sad songs.  

The start of a new year always excites me with the promise of new possibilities.  At the same time, I was feeling a bit melancholy lately.  Partly because I don't love winter and clearly remember last winter's long, cold and dark days.  Partly because I was thinking about the various struggles going on locally and globally.  "Melancholy" can mean "a gloomy state of mind," but also can mean "sober thoughtfulness; pensiveness."  I do have a pensive (slightly brooding) side to myself.  Just call me Melancholy Mary.  I actually discovered Melancholy Mary when I was in seventh or eighth grade at Blessed Sacrament Grade School.  In our religion workbook, there was a section about the four temperaments.  I can't believe I remember this.  The temperaments were represented by four characters:  Choleric Cal, Melancholy Mary, Sanguine Sue, and Phlegmatic Phil.   I don't remember anything else about those workbook pages or much about grade school at all, but I remember those names.  Especially Melancholy Mary.

Is it very melancholy to think of life as a struggle?  Merriam-Webster.com defines "struggle" (the verb) as "to try very hard to do, achieve, or deal with something that is difficult or that causes problems."  Right now I know people who are struggling with their own or their loved one's serious illnesses or challenges, both mental and physical.  Others are suffering from income loss or other financial hardships.  Relationships with spouses, children, parents or friends change or falter.  Grief is ongoing for those who have experienced the death of a loved one.  Change, and the struggle to adjust to change, is ever present.  Often life does not turn out quite the way we expected.  Beyond our personal struggles, there are the bigger struggles of our world.  Violence, poverty, tragedies.  I don't think it's pessimistic to think of life as a struggle.  I truly believe that Life is Sweet, as I've written.  Yet, despite what our conditioning or culture may tell us, when we recognize our struggles, that's when we can really connect.  Why do people think it's better to not talk about our struggles?  It makes them feel uncomfortable, so they want challenges and emotions to be hidden.  Or they want to offer solutions or advice rather than simply listen.  Or they think talking about things will make the situation worse.  When, really, just talking and being acknowledged can sometimes be exactly what we need.

When I was a youngish mother of three children ages five and under, I was talking to another mom who also had three children, just a bit older than mine.  I truly loved mostly everything about pregnancy, nursing, babies and small children, but it wasn't always easy.  I don't remember exactly what the other mom and I were talking about - maybe the sleeplessness, the physicality, or the constant needs.  And she said, "It's hard."  That's it - two simple words.  She acknowledged the struggle.  It didn't make me feel worse.  It made me feel better and, not incidentally, more ready for the challenges.  The fact that I remember this incident so many years later is a testament to the power of being able to share our struggles and have them acknowledged.

Which brings me back to the title of this post.  "Sad songs, they say so much."  Thanks, Elton John.  I really love sad songs, and I'm not the only one.  A Google search yielded an abundance of results about sad songs.  Maybe we like sad songs because we feel like we're able to share someone's struggle or feel some solidarity with the singer or the song.  It's a bit of a stretch, I know, but writing this post led me to sad songs.  As I started thinking about sad songs and researching them online, I fell down a very deep rabbit hole.  I read lists of sad songs, made my own list and watched a YouTube video of "Cat's in the Cradle."  (I love that terribly sad song.)  Then, I tried to find a certain sad song, remembering only the melody and the lyrics "goodbye, Michelle."  I couldn't remember the chorus, but I was convinced that Don McLean sang it.  After extensively researching Don McLean and still not finding my mystery song,  I decided to listen to American Pie, which is clearly the longest song in the history of the world.  Eventually, a random Google search found what I was looking for - "Seasons in the Sun," which was actually by Terry Jacks.  Of course, then I had to search for the lyrics, listen to the song and also listen to more folk/rock music of the 1970s, most of which is also melancholy.

Through this entire process, all three of my children were swirling about me.  Absorbed as I was in my research, I didn't realize it was almost 10:30pm.  It was a weeknight.  The eleven year old should have been in bed, and the teenagers should have either been in bed or studying.  Yet there they were.  And there I was:  half-tuned into the music and the Wikipedia entries and half-tuned into the crazy threesome wrestling, dancing, fake-soccer playing, rough-housing, jumping on the couch. 

And I heard:
"How do you dance to this music?"
"This is a Kermit the Frog song."
"I'm not wrestling, I'm pretending to get injured in soccer."
"Is this 80s music?"
"I know this song - Uncle Chris plays this song."

And I said:
"Maybe you sway, like this.  Or clap."
"No."
"Stop wrestling!"
"This is waaaaay before the 80s."
"You should get ready for bed."
"Boys, are you done with your homework?" 

And I thought:
Seventies music has not caused them to flee to their rooms.
I'm happy that my three teen/tween children still gravitate toward me,
that we are here together in this room laughing and singing and dancing and wrestling,
even if it is too late on a school night.
I love these people, and I love this life.
This beautiful-messy, happy-sad, joy-struggle of a thing called life... 

And, so if anyone at all is reading this:
My wish for you, for this still nearly-new 2015,
is for a beautiful-messy, happy-sad, joy-struggle year of this thing called life!

*****

Melancholy Mary & daughter enjoy a sunny winter day inside the tropical dome @ Mitchell Park Conservatory.

Post-script:

I also like happy songs.
Love them, actually.
As the Muppets sing,
"Life's a happy song when there's someone by my side to sing along."

We need the happy songs and the sad songs, don't we?

Some of the sad songs on my list:
Cat's in the Cradle - Harry Chapin
Seasons in the Sun - Terry Jacks
Rocket Man - Elton John
I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues - Elton John
Blowin' in the Wind - Peter, Paul & Mary
Leaving on a Jet Plane - John Denver
Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.
Redemption Song - Bob Marley
Here I Go Again On My Own - White Snake
Drive - The Cars

Do you like sad songs?  What are your favorites?