"Oh, My Darlin' Clementine", cough syrup, and Old Spice

The tune floated down the hallway to my ears.  I couldn't catch the words---probably some made up words to help the school children remember math facts---and NOT the original lyrics, I hope, which are actually quite disturbing to ponder!
But I did linger a minute longer to drift back to those long car rides when Dad would have us sing along with any song he thought of, one of which, of course was always "Clementine."  He often would harmonize and if he hit a wrong note, would have to endure our good-natured teasing and howling, indicating that we inferred he was not singing, but howling like a wolf.  That teasing would nearly always end in laughter.  Makes me smile even now to think of Dad's laughter--a sound like no other!

....

My mind has been with my dear Tennessee family in recent days.  Photos of a visit to "far-flung" relatives, prayers for protection for a soldier serving in Afganistan, knowledge of a cousin's joyous and long-awaited wedding, chemotherapy treatments for another beloved, unbelievable and miraculous healing for a critically ill patient, grief for family members gone on to heaven---and the pain those left behind are experiencing, especially after more than 65 years together...I was surprised at my own tears, when in a room smelling faintly of Old Spice aftershave combined with stale cigarette smoke (ask me how I know that familiar scent!) amidst wheelchairs and walkers and the people that don't want them, but can't live life without them,  I sat beside my dad and listened to a little gospel band.  Dad would have called the band "good ole boys"---hats and toe-tapping cowboy boots and lots of guitar-picking and even a harmonica; they reminded me so much of my own *favorite* country singers and their number one fan, their proud Mama.
"I've got a mansion just over the hilltop," was the first song and I couldn't stop the tears thinking of how much she must be enjoying her mansion in that bright land where we'll never grow old....


.....


I took a swig of cough syrup right out of the bottle.  I thought about the first time I watched Aunt Vi do that herself.  I was appalled that she wouldn't "measure" out a teaspoon---how could she judge the correct dosage?  Wasn't she afraid she'd take too much?  Now I realize she'd been "down the road" a few times and didn't *need* to be accurate, her estimations were accurate enough.  I had to chuckle that now I must think I too can judge the correct amount---either that or I'm too lazy to get a spoon, which would be very much UNlike Aunt Vi.  I doubt there was a lazy bone in her body.