There is a difference between the North and the South. One of the differences is the lullabies that Southern babies hear when they are rocked and sung to sleep.
This is on my mind because I have a Southern baby grandchild named Tempe (Faith, Hope, Charity, Temperance — shortened to Tempe and graced on many girls in my wife’s family. My wife is also named Tempe.).
Every Southern baby has had their grandmother (and momma) sing Summertime to them. It is a “spiritual” in the genre of the American Southern African American experience, but it was written for the folk opera Porgie & Bess by the Gershwins.
The story is set in the slums of Charleston, South Carolina — a city with which all Southerners have a love affair — and revolves around a street person named Porgy (black, disabled street beggar) who attempts to rescue Bess from the abuse of her violent, possessive lover (Crown) while simultaneously trying to part her from her drug dealer, Sportin’ Life.
Gershwin wrote many of the songs for his opera in Folly Beach, South Carolina, a barrier island off Charleston that is a fifteen minute drive from the city. I once spent an entire summer at Folly Beach — beach all day, restaurants of Charleston every evening.
Gershwin would first show his opera at Carnegie Hall in 1935 with the role of Bess being sung by the first ever black woman singer at Juilliard. She was 20 years old.
When you know that context, the meaning of the song changes a little.
Summertime, and the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high
Oh, your daddy’s rich and your ma is good-lookin’
So hush, little baby, don’t you cry
One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singing
And you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky
But till that morning, there ain’t nothin’ can harm you
With daddy and mammy standin’ by
One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singing
And you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky
But till that morning, there ain’t nothin’ can harm you
With daddy and mammy standin’ by
Summertime, and the livin’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high
Oh, your daddy’s rich and your ma is good-lookin’
So hush, little baby, don’t you cry
To whom is this song being sung? Who is singing it?
And, that, dear reader, is why magic is till alive in the South and why Southern babies grow up to be mysterious and beloved Southern women. And, why mommas and grandmothers sing Summertime to their restless babies. And why those babies go right to sleep.
But, hey, what the Hell do I really know anyway? I’m just a Big Red Car built in Yankee Detroit. Be well and sing Summertime to your babies.
