My father was always singing. He had a lovely baritone voice and knew all his college songs, campfire songs from the Boy Scouts, and hits from the 1940s and before. My favorite was "It's Been a Long, Long Time," which he said was the song he first heard when he got off the boat returning from spending the end of World War II serving in Iceland.
But there is one song that he seemed to have sung the most often, that I both loved and hated. It was called "Sierra Sue." Chances are you've never heard of it. Or, if you happen to have been a Boy Scout in Strawberry Troop 33 from about 1965 to 1975, you probably can't get it out of your head. For the record, here's how it goes:
Sierra Sue, I'm sad and lonely,
The rocks and rills are lonely, too.
Sierra Sue, I want you only,
No one but you, Sierra Sue.
The roses weep, their tears are falling,
The gentle doves no longer coo.
Oh, can't you hear my sad heart calling,
Calling for you, Sierra Sue.
Joseph Buell Carey wrote those lyrics in 1916. I'm not sure where my father learned them, but I do know that Bing Crosby, Glenn Miller, Gene Krupa and Ted Weems all recorded versions in 1940, and Gene Autry's voice was featured in the film of the same name in 1941.
So, what's not to like? Sentimental story, lilting tune, easy to sing. The reason I have such mixed feelings about "Sierra Sue" is that on every single morning of every single day on every single Scout camping trip for more than ten years we were awakened at 7 am or earlier by my father singing that damn song.
Granted, it certainly was a lot better than a loud bugle call or rude banging on pots with a wooden spoon, but it always meant an end to our youthful slumbers. It also was an in-your-face reminder that grown-ups had this mysterious ability to rise up earlier than we teenagers, greeting the world all "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," as my father used to say. Meanwhile, the rest of us slowly emerged from our sleeping bag cocoons like so-many reluctant moths.
Of course, now that I am the age my father was back-then, I know his early rising had nothing to do with any form of adult super-power. After so many years of living, my father just felt "nature's call" earlier than we did. Once up, it was simply practical to get a jump on the morning's work.
These days, I tend to be an early-riser, too, though I am decidedly less musical about it. And on those occasions when I do need to be out and about before the sun is up, getting out of bed is no problem.
To me, rising before dawn heralds the beginning of something special. I may be traveling a great distance, going skiing for the day with my daughter, heading to the start of an epic all-day bike ride, or driving to the airport to catch a flight to someplace interesting. I like the silence when I walk outside, the mostly deserted streets, and the feeling that "the game is afoot," as Sherlock Holmes used to say.
As fate would have it, my daughter never showed any interest in Girl Scouts, so I didn't get to carry on my father's early morning camp tradition. Instead, I honored it by adding "Sierra Sue" to her bedtime song repertoire very early on.
So, on Saturday night, when I discovered that most of my dinner companions had never heard of "Sierra Sue," I starting singing it for them. Then my dad joined in, and his voice was stronger than it had been in some time. He didn't remember all of the words, but the smile on his face lifted me back to my Scouting days, when his voice used to ring out clear and strong in the still morning air.
The rocks and rills are lonely, too.
Sierra Sue, I want you only,
No one but you, Sierra Sue.
The roses weep, their tears are falling,
The gentle doves no longer coo.
Oh, can't you hear my sad heart calling,
Calling for you, Sierra Sue.
Joseph Buell Carey wrote those lyrics in 1916. I'm not sure where my father learned them, but I do know that Bing Crosby, Glenn Miller, Gene Krupa and Ted Weems all recorded versions in 1940, and Gene Autry's voice was featured in the film of the same name in 1941.
So, what's not to like? Sentimental story, lilting tune, easy to sing. The reason I have such mixed feelings about "Sierra Sue" is that on every single morning of every single day on every single Scout camping trip for more than ten years we were awakened at 7 am or earlier by my father singing that damn song.
Granted, it certainly was a lot better than a loud bugle call or rude banging on pots with a wooden spoon, but it always meant an end to our youthful slumbers. It also was an in-your-face reminder that grown-ups had this mysterious ability to rise up earlier than we teenagers, greeting the world all "bright-eyed and bushy-tailed," as my father used to say. Meanwhile, the rest of us slowly emerged from our sleeping bag cocoons like so-many reluctant moths.
Of course, now that I am the age my father was back-then, I know his early rising had nothing to do with any form of adult super-power. After so many years of living, my father just felt "nature's call" earlier than we did. Once up, it was simply practical to get a jump on the morning's work.
These days, I tend to be an early-riser, too, though I am decidedly less musical about it. And on those occasions when I do need to be out and about before the sun is up, getting out of bed is no problem.
To me, rising before dawn heralds the beginning of something special. I may be traveling a great distance, going skiing for the day with my daughter, heading to the start of an epic all-day bike ride, or driving to the airport to catch a flight to someplace interesting. I like the silence when I walk outside, the mostly deserted streets, and the feeling that "the game is afoot," as Sherlock Holmes used to say.
As fate would have it, my daughter never showed any interest in Girl Scouts, so I didn't get to carry on my father's early morning camp tradition. Instead, I honored it by adding "Sierra Sue" to her bedtime song repertoire very early on.
So, on Saturday night, when I discovered that most of my dinner companions had never heard of "Sierra Sue," I starting singing it for them. Then my dad joined in, and his voice was stronger than it had been in some time. He didn't remember all of the words, but the smile on his face lifted me back to my Scouting days, when his voice used to ring out clear and strong in the still morning air.
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